1-ichi - Tumblr blog

[1-ichi]

snzcanon abt how g/eto is nnm’s fet awakening. I imagine g/eto being a person responsible for their personal hygiene. As any gentleman would, g/eto tends after his nose hairs by plucking. His nose is sensitive to physical sensation. This is by far a terrible combination.

every Sunday in the dorms, G/eto has his routine of cutting his nails, cleaning his earrings, and shaving extra carefully for a fresh start to the week. Every Sunday night, N/anami is also in his room, sitting nearby the thin wall that separates his and his senpai’s two rooms, to listen to the ruckus that is G/eto’s uncontrollable sneezing fits.

it took quite a while to piece together that the loud, boisterous sneezes that echoed the halls on Sunday were in fact G/eto’s. Especially since he had seen him only sneezing like a kitten before. The force, the undeniable contrast from his public image, and simply knowing just how personal these sounds were was enough to awaken nnm’s inner freak.

[1-ichi]

Orchids on an unlucky day.

Characters: G/ojo, M/egumi, mentions of T/sumiki AU where everyone is alive and well. G/ojo still checks in on m/eg and t/sumiki. All characters 18+ Tags: allergy, g/ojo being under the weather, m/eg being a cinnamon bun, g/ojo with expensive allergies

A tired G/ojo goes to pick up M/egumi up after a school trip. On the train home, G/ojo has an unfortunate encounter. 

On a cloudy day, Megumi went on a field trip with his classmates. They went on a tour to visit a local factory, gathering early in the morning at a bus stop a little ways away from university and disbanding at the same spot. It was 6 PM. He had somehow managed to finish his mission with a bit of force and just barely made it in time. How many hours had he worked? He assumes he hadn’t been able to visit the Fushiguro household for at most four days.

(I wanted to send him off in the morning since it was his first time going on a field trip but...)

The bus parks and comes to a halt. Students follow the professor off the bus one by one. Some were being picked up in cars, while others walked home alone. Then, he spotted Megumi.

“Megumi!”

As he waved and ran over, Megumi, with his usual unimpressed expression, stared at him. Normally, with that expression, sharp, dismissive words would follow, but...

(Cute kid.)

Unlike his usual backpack, Megumi had taken a plain navy shoulder bag Gojo had bought for him on the trip.

“You know you didn’t need to pick me up.”

“Well, I got a break tomorrow and the day after, as long as nothing comes up. I wanted to see your faces.”

Megumi nods disinterested, and they head towards the station.

“How was the factory? Did you have fun?”

“... It was okay. Relates to sustainability or whatever we’re learning in lecture. Not much though”

“I see~”

— — — —

The last time he visited the apartment, Gojo happened to read the letter on the dining table detailing the field trip. Upon reading it, he declared that he would pick Megumi up that day.

(I told him he didn’t have to come. I’m an adult for god’s sake)

But in the end, Gojo always kept his promises. It had been six days since Megumi last saw him. Although he was slightly taken aback by how haggard Gojo looked, he noticed that Gojo seemed smaller than usual. Could someone really lose so much weight in just a week? Maybe it was because he lacked strength that he appeared somewhat hunched, with a pale face and dark circles under his eyes that even his sunglasses couldn't fully hide.

(Does he not realize he's overworking himself?)

Before the rush hour crowds filled the train completely, they luckily found seats near the door, sitting side by side. Despite Gojo's few words, Megumi didn't mind. They were both a bit tired. Just five more stops.

— — — —

His body felt heavy. His mind was fogged by fatigue, lack of sleep, and simple hunger. It wasn't a cold or anything, but not being at his best was frustrating. Not that it would cause any real trouble.

(I wonder if there's food at the Fushiguro’s.)

Tsumiki was usually on top of grocery shopping, but Gojo made a mental note to call her once they reached the station, gazing absentmindedly at the passing scenery.

After a couple of stops, a woman carrying an awkwardly large box full of potted plants boarded the train. She hesitated to move further into the crowded train car and instead stood right in front of Gojo, placing the box on the armrest next to him with a thud.

Gojo, not leaning against the armrest, didn't mind. But he had a bad feeling.

(It smells...)

It was a familiar, pungent odor. Shifting his gaze slightly, he recognized the white Phalaenopsis orchids.

From where Megumi was sitting, it probably looked as if the white orchid was peering down at him. But due to his height, Gojo was directly eye-level with the flowers. Gojo noticed Megumi’s glance through his sunglasses and flashed his usual goofy smile. Three stops to go.

— — — —

“... Hh’gnxxt!!”

Recognizing the flower, within seconds, an itchy sensation crept up Gojo’s nose, causing him to shift uncomfortably. An intense irritation filled his sinuses. It had always been unpleasant. These flowers were often displayed at Gojo's mansion for celebrations, and he had developed a mild allergy to Phalaenopsis orchids since childhood. He hadn't encountered them much since attending the jujutsu school, but now he cursed the coincidence internally.

Trying to contain the force as much as possible, he managed to stifle his sneeze, though it didn’t alleviate the itch. Covering the release with his elbow, he tried to maintain composure.

(It’s okay. It’s just a little.. itchy...)

“Hh’ngkshh!”

The next sneeze burst out without warning. The woman next to him shifted her weight to avoid spray. She must not realize that she is the cause of this. Slightly annoyed, Gojo pressed his tongue against the back of his front teeth to distract himself.

How unusual for him to be so bothered by the orchids. Perhaps his immune system was weakened by fatigue, causing an unusually strong allergic reaction.

(Ah, this could be bad.)

"Alright, we're here."

Barely managing to hold out until their stop, Gojo tried to maintain a composed expression, though he knew his pale complexion probably highlighted his reddening nose and eyes. The itchiness in his entire face was unbearable.

(I never manage to look cool in front of Megumi… do I)

He pinched his burning nostrils, consciously twitching his nose to endure the itch. Wanting to sneeze, but pride and embarrassment held him back. Being part of one of the three great families, he had become adept at hiding perceived weaknesses like tears and illness.

“...snf.”

An unpleasant sound. He could already feel congestion building, making his breathing harder. He felt that if he opened his mouth to speak, a fit would take over, so instead he silently urged Megumi towards the ticketing gate. When he glanced at Megumi, he seemed like he wanted to say something, but Gojo had no time to inquire.

— — — —

Megumi noticed a change in Gojo on the train, about two stops before their destination. He heard quiet sniffles and glanced over to see tears welling up in Gojo's eyes, which he quickly wiped away with his fingers, repeating the action multiple times. Even after they got off the train and passed through the ticket gate, Gojo said very little.

(So I guess this person has the capacity to cry too...)

Megumi narrates to himself. Gojo had always seemed like an enigmatic person, devoid of human flaws and living a life sans normality. Megumi wondered if something had happened during his mission. Despite experiencing something sad, he still came to pick up Megumi. Was he okay? At least he doesn’t seem physically hurt. It didn’t seem like a question a young sorcerer like him could ask, so he simply followed Gojo, who again, seemed smaller and more fragile than usual. Glancing up, Megumi could see the gap between Gojo's sunglasses and his face, noticing his slightly reddened eyes.

(Oh, I have this.)

Megumi rummaged through his bag while walking, searching for the tissue case Tsumiki made during home economics class. He traced the uneven embroidery of the Divine Dogs with his thumb.

“Um, Gojo-san.”

Gojo turned around at Megumi's voice. He saw Megumi, a little embarrassed, holding out the tissue case.

“Please use this...”

“Eh...”

— — — —

A pathetic smile almost breaks out.

(So, he sees through me... Was it really that obvious?)

Moving to the side of the walkway, Gojo gratefully plucks a couple tissues from Megumi’s tissue case.

They were just a few blocks away from the Fushiguro’s apartment. Gojo was hoping to relieve his sinuses with a tissue or a dozen once they reached home. Maybe in private? Maybe without Megumi or Tsumiki having to see him as a snotty mess? In his silence, he had tried breathing only through his mouth, pinching his nose, and trying oh so hard to hold back the wave of tickles that kept rocking forward. But with Megumi’s kind gesture and at the simple sight of relief, Gojo could feel the floodgates crashing wide open.

“Ha...”

The moment his nose made contact with the tissue he brought close to his face, an electrifying itch ran through him.

“Hh’AGsHiewww!!!”

Having held back for so long, his allergic reaction seemed to have amplified. Two tissues simply couldn't contain his mess, making an unpleasant squelching sound as it dirtied his fingertips. But it didn't stop, and another wave hit, ignoring any pattern or rhythm to his breathing.

“Hhh’EH’gkhsh!!! Hhh’AESHieww!”

Unrestrained, allergic waves continued to crash, tearing through him repeatedly. He could feel an unpleasant dampness in his palm. He needed new tissues.

(Ah, I must look really pathetic right now...)

He thought, half-resentful, as he involuntarily lifted his face. It was good he had covered his face with his hand, as his nose twitched embarrassingly. Megumi, with a slightly startled expression, quickly turned away.

“Hh’ITSCHhh! Hh’EHSHhe!! S-sorry...”

He managed to say after another bout of sneezing, his face scrunched in discomfort.

“Here, you can use this.”

Megumi handed him a longer hand towel he hadn't used during the field trip, almost pushing it into Gojo's chest.

“But...”

“Just take it.”

“Thanks... Ha... Hh’AEGshieuw…! They... won't stah….h’… stop... Hh’uhnkg’TSCHhh!”

— — — —

“Sorry... Usually, I don't get such bad allergies... Hh’euNGTSHh! Maybe because I'm tired.”

Gojo scratched his nose, now completely irritated and allergic, trying to laugh it off.

(That wasn't something to laugh about.)

Megumi sighed inwardly. He hadn’t seen the older sorcerer in such a state before. With just how pale he is, he’d also never seen Gojo in such a shade of red. It was quite concerning.

“When we get home, take a bath first.”

“... Thank you.”

“And leave your clothes at the entrance.”

“Yeah...... sweet of you, Megumi.”

“... Yeah no… Not really.”

[1-ichi]

Unrelated rant. I sometimes feel quite ashamed and guilty?? KNOWING that I am the freak of my family— and I will mask and hide a big part of myself to the grave!!! I am not open abt sharing this fet with anyone and probably never will 😭👍🏼 not even my closest friends or partners irl. And that’s okay.

But at the same time, this fet really shaped how I perceive myself and continue to present myself from a young age. I act “serious” and “up tight” so I don’t expose myself. It’s why I’m not as interested in intimacy/romantic gestures. It’s a big reason why I didn’t date until my twenties. With this fet I know that I am freaky (and sometimes I like that about me!!! I promise! It’s not all negative) But when I see my younger siblings going about their days, heteronormative, typical teen romance, etc etc, I feel ashamed of myself again. Or at least feel like I’ve missed out on a regular experience of growing up. Whatever that is lol.

[1-ichi]

Allergic s/uguru running out of tissues to blow his nose with and scrambling into the nearest bathroom stall to relieve himself with low quality toilet paper. at first, he’s able to successfully relieve his congestion but soon after, the loose fibers from the toilet paper start to dance around in his nostrils, irritating his allergic nose even further. This unexpectedly induces an unsuppressable, itchy fit which echoes into the halls, much to s/uguru’s embarrassment.

[1-ichi]

pink nosed dadabi.. plz

dabbing at the brims of his irritated nostrils with an overused tissue. Turning the air conditioning down, shoulders shivering just enough for someone close by to notice. Wincing at the sinus pain growing in-between his full eyebrows.

[1-ichi]

decision fatigue

what do you call this ship? when it's nanami with gojo and geto? internet says nangoge but i feel like the order must be important right? either way... you will understand what i mean soon!!!! ^o^

sf tags: narrator with sneeze fetish, common cold, stifle -> loud, sick while working/traveling, contagion talk non-sf tags: ambiguous relationship, sexual tension, mentions of intercourse, descriptions of arousal, voyeurism, exhibitionism notes: i promise the fic isn't all texting ToT words: 4k

Kento is foiled during his first business trip as a high grade at Jujutsu Tech. The source of his predicament may remain forever unknown, but could be any one of his many tormenters ranging from Satoru Gojo to the universe itself. The two of them aren’t so different, after all.

Regardless, Gojo is present from the very beginning, when Kento receives news of his upcoming complications over a text in their noisy off-hours group chat.

GETO!!: Satoru, how are you feeling?

GOJO!!: Niceeee GOJO!!: I’m in a meeting gimme a sec

GETO!!: Wait GETO!!: Not sexting GETO!!: This is the gc

GOJO!!: 👎

GETO!!: I got a cold and I’m trying to figure out if it came from home or the airport

GOJO!!: You said you weren’t sexting 😜

There’s more to the conversation, but Kento keeps his thumb motionless on the screen to prevent scrolling as he processes what he’s reading. Gojo is home in Tokyo with the rest of them, but he’s been extra present in Kento’s pocket since he and Geto left for a partnered mission in Aomori. Gojo is clearly lonely without the two of them, and would do better to cease the virtual harassment so that they could finish the job and get home quicker.

It doesn’t help that Kento and Geto are sleeping in the same one-bedroom suite, rendering Gojo vicariously enthusiastic even if they have yet to share a bed two nights in. He and Geto were supposed to switch off between that and the futon in the living room unless they wound up having enough time and energy for sex, but Kento doubts Geto will suggest it now that he’s contagious.

Maintaining professionalism is a lost cause with the special grades as colleagues, so Kento reads on in a flare of optimistic desire.

GETO!!: Lol

Oh. Well, alright.

That’s all there is, and it was sent half an hour ago. Aside from being anticlimactic, the lack of communication fills Kento with dread at what to expect and how to approach it. He reins himself in with a resolve to tame his libido until evening, then messages Geto privately via the app designated for sorcery work.

JUJUTSU TECH | Private Thread |  NAN.KEN[Gr1] to GET.SU[GrSpc]

NAN.KEN: I’m going to be near the museum early. I have time to stop at the convenience store if you need anything.

GET.SU: I see our gallant kohai Nanami-kun is back in action GET.SU: Actually, I’ll probably be 20 mins late if you could grab some cough drops to tide me over. I’ll pay you back at a cafe I saw further up. You’d like it

NAN.KEN: No need. Reimbursement won’t be necessary.

GET.SU: Oh, are you shoplifting? GET.SU: I’m surprised. Everyone has been saying you haven’t changed 🤔

NAN.KEN: No. I plan on expensing it.

GET.SU: Lol

NAN.KEN: All interterritorial food and drug purchases should be paid for by the college. NAN.KEN: What flavor do you prefer?

GET.SU: Lol I’m not picky. Just get your favorite in case you catch this from me GET.SU: Take care to buy an expensive brand, please. Make the hustle count :)

🏪🌲🌳🏢🗾🚲

Leftover habits bring Kento to the village museum on the dot, despite his expectation to spend twenty minutes loitering on the bench outside. Geto surprises him by arriving shortly afterward, dressed undercover like a local college student enjoying a day off.

“Geto-san.” Kento stands to greet him, shopping bag in hand. “You’re much earlier than you said you’d be.”

“I like giving myself a grace period to make up for Satoru,” Geto replies, voice burdened by the roughness of what Kento would otherwise assume was jet lag. “I must have miscalculated this time.”

There’s already a nasal heaviness in his consonants; he must have been hiding the onset sore throat for at least a day. This won’t be easy. 

“You mean you were planning on being fifteen minutes early?” asks Kento.

“Slow start today,” Geto explains. He squints, frowns, and clears his throat. “Anyway. The rest of the district won’t be a rush for us. How were your interviews this morning?”

“Unsuccessful,” Kento says, “and exhausting. The families don’t seem to know much, and they’re worried that an exorcizing any curses would discourage tourism.”

“As opposed to mysterious deaths discouraging tourism,” Geto says. He clears his throat again, this time lifting a fist to cover the cough that bounces on the end of it. “All right. Well… why don’t we go inside and see what we notice, and I’ll send the report down to Tokyo to see if the second grades will need a veil.”

He walks in ahead of Kento before he can offer any mentholated licorice to soothe his throat, and Kento follows without insisting. He’s not going to be the first to bring it up. In situations like this one, he defaults to the most obvious chains of command – age; experience; power level – all of which place Geto distinctly above him.

Besides, he’s unsure as to whether it’s appropriate to mix business with pleasure in a context where the culture and protocol are still unclear. Kento has yet to indulge his most peculiar kink with anyone but Gojo, and he’s doubts Geto knows it exists in the first place.

GOJO!!: Yo GOJO!!: Nanamin GOJO!!: Location says you and Suguru finally linked??? GOJO!!: How’s he sounding? GOJO!!: Sexy, right? GOJO!!: Hehe GOJO!!: Nanami??? I see your screen is active GOJO!!: If you don’t answer I’m messaging on the juju app

NANAMI K: We’re working. Don’t text me

GOJO!!: He sneezed at least 6 times when I talked to him on the phone this morning GOJO!!: Big ones too

NANAMI K: I’m muting you.

GOJO!! is typing…

Kento closes the app and shuts his ringer off before he’s attacked by any more erotic information about his colleague. Or friend, or ex-upperclassman, or whatever Geto is supposed to be to him in the broader range of their relationship. Geto is Kento’s superior today, and that’s what matters. He’ll focus on the professional element of their relationship until they can have a real discussion beyond a just-in-case.

“Is that Satoru?” asks Geto as they near the admissions counter. He shocks Kento with a crackly sniffle as he reaches into his own pocket for his wallet.

Kento frowns. “How could you tell?”

“Nobody else texts like that,” Geto answers. He’s smiling fondly, which makes Kento fond of Gojo all of a sudden, too.

It’s strange that liking Gojo is their greatest unifier, because Kento had been slower to warm up to him. Contrarily, Kento was fond of Geto upon first impression. Everybody seemed to be. Geto was handsome and kind, with a subtle and sophisticated sense of humor that drew people in. They forgave his teasing because of his charm, and opened themselves to Gojo because it was Geto who vouched for him. His elegant charisma has always worked in his favor like a siren’s shield, allowing him to get away with things that other people wouldn’t, like piercing his eyebrow and spoiling society’s strongest.

He also gets away with sneezing almost entirely unnoticed, generally as a pattern but also right after paying the museum’s entrance fee as he turns away from the clerk. Kento only notices because he’s attuned and staring, involuntarily aroused as Geto flashes a grimace and tightens his shoulders.

“nghk!”

Perhaps Kento is imagining the sound itself, syncing it with Geto’s movement as he watches half a meter away. It’s going to be the first of many. He pretends not to notice this time, focusing instead on pressing down the electric heat that shivers threateningly to his core.

📝🔍🖼🎏📷

“Visitors are more likely to visit this museum after witnessing Mount Dread,” Geto reports between exhibits, once he and Kento are in an empty hall and away from civilian ears. “I suspect we’ll see more cursed energy here because of that.”

“They’re also tired by the time they realize this attraction even exists,” Kento says. “People are in better spirits near the start of a trip.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” Geto adds. He unwraps a cough drop and uses his index finger to press it onto his tongue. “Thank you for these, by the way. How is your throat? Still feeling all right?”

“Yes,” Kento answers, his back straight and breath steady as Geto’s in case you catch this from me from earlier rolls through his memory, then his gut, then spreads hot further below. “You’ll be worse off if you worry about me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Geto curls a finger below his chin as they enter the next room, a wood-bordered space with a sparse display of local sculptures contributed by the community over several decades. He and Kento aren’t the only ones among the exhibit, and Geto lowers his voice accordingly.

“Ah. That’s right,” he says. “You came down with a cold a few weeks ago. Was it very bad?”

To make sure he heard correctly, Kento stops in his tracks and looks over to see Geto’s head tilted to the side with that pensive finger unmoving, eyes narrowed at the corners with what appears to be innocent curiosity.

“Pardon?” Kento says blankly.

“You were out for a few days, weren’t you?”

“Oh. Uh, Yes. I was.”

Geto hums to himself and resumes browsing. “I remember Satoru going over. I’d feel bad getting you sick so soon after you’ve recovered from something like that, so I hope this is somehow your cold and not some stranger’s.”

Is he talking dirty right now? In the middle of a job investigating the village museum?

He must be. Geto is too much of a fox to not know what he’s doing. That, or he’s such a dream that he’d say something so naturally intimate without realizing its dizzying effect. I hope this is your cold. Good god. Kento allows a pause to swing between them before taking his turn with a safe reply and change of subject.

Unfortunately, the blur of Geto’s intentions gets even fuzzier as he and Kento continue perusing the space. The topic of his sore throat and stuffy nose ends up hanging in the air as though it’s encased in ice that’s been cracked but not shattered, waiting for a sharp, sturdy poke. 

It’s a shame that this all feels so complicated, because Geto is otherwise very pleasant to work with. He has a knack for small talk and taking up an appropriate amount of space, interjecting with facts and questions often enough to quell a mission’s boredom without steering anyone’s attention too far off course. It’s a comfort to be around somebody so skilled and focused, to be able to take a superior’s lead in knowing when to relax and when to fight. 

Unfortunately, Geto will always be distracting. There’s a reason everybody who spoke with him in school ended up trying to invite him home.

“I’m going to step in here for a moment,” Geto announces calmly when they pass a grouping of sliding restroom doors. He grips the handle and smiles. “Feel free to go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Sure,” Kento agrees, but he’s dastardly enough to loiter with an open ear. It proves to be worth the risk.

Even without any surrounding tile floors to generate an echo, the sneeze Geto is trying to conceal is obvious from the other side of the door nearly as soon as it shuts. He’s not fast enough to muffle the dampness into anything soft, not even within the seconds it takes for the next sneeze to claim him.

“EHGZSSH’YEU! … hehHT’GYZSHh’U!”

He gets a hold of what Kento assumes is a thin, stiff napkin from the dispenser, given the sound of rolling plastic and ripping paper. There are two more brisk snaps of paper tearing that imply Geto’s familiarity with his body’s persistent strength.

“MMFSHhhYH!” There’s more tearing of paper, and then Geto is blowing his nose. And tearing paper, and blowing his nose. Does he not have tissues with him? He does it another time, followed by silence before he turns the faucet on and courteously washes his hands.

After Geto has taken out two more paper towels to presumably dry off, Kento begins to move away and feign minding his business immersed in the nearest exhibit. A sudden sneeze hits Geto by surprise and Kento’s erection keeps him hostage at his post against the wall.

“GXSHyeu!” It undoes the hard work he’d done to clear his sinuses, and the paper towels are enlisted once more. Geto will be in bad shape when he’s finished, raw nostrils revealing the trite effort to manage the state of its unraveling.

Kento has seen it before. This isn’t the first time he’s eavesdropped like this. 

Because Geto is poised and secretive, Kento had known him for years before he got to hear his real sneeze. It gave an extra allure to the suppressed concession-sneezes Geto had allowed himself otherwise, ranging from silent tremors to a half-escaped compromise with a hiss or groan tacked onto its second half. Kento would get hard just knowing that there was something so much louder and more boisterous behind each of them, and that Geto had the determination to hide it from close company to his own demise.

The reveal happened by accident, at a New Year’s party hosted by Gojo during Nanami’s early years at corporate. Geto was sick with a cold he’d acquired at some holiday gathering the week before, and he had been sneezing quietly but frequently into neatly-folded tissues from his pocket throughout the night. He’d apologized to the group before retiring early, and disclosed to Gojo and Kento that they would need to fuck without him after everybody else had gone home. 

Sure enough, that was what happened, during which Kento had discovered that Geto wasn’t actually sleeping. While he and Gojo were undressing, Kento perked up at the definitive, exhaustedly vocal sneeze blustering from the next room over.

“Haha, poor Suguru,” Gojo had commented, as though he’d just heard something entirely unremarkable. Kento connected the dots quickly and then came much too fast as Geto continued fell into a slow, drawn-out fit over the next several minutes, proving that the discordant harshness to his sneeze wasn’t just a fluke.

Everyone was a wreck the next morning. Little did Geto know that the pink scraping around his nose was more suggestive than the frustrated love bites all over Gojo’s shoulders.

After that, Kento wondered if Geto only sounded like that when he was fighting something nasty, but as he spent more time around both Geto and Gojo as an intermittent third while he worked an hour-long train ride away in deeper Tokyo, he was granted with witness to more of those private moments by lucky happenstance. Exasperatedly unseen, eagerly heard. It’s exactly what Gojo had been implying earlier today when he’d sent that provocative text. 

If Gojo had known about Kento’s strangest kink on the night of his initial discovery, Kento may have returned to the Jujutsu world before wasting years slogging away in a high rise.

But even now, he and Geto have yet to fuck without Gojo present, and Kento has yet to disclose much of his personal preferences to Geto on his own. He suspects that Gojo talks about him plenty, but it may be a stretch to presume that he’d be disrespectful enough to tell Geto about the sneezing thing without Kento’s permission.

Ironically, the ambiguous sexual boundary is what complicates his predicament the most. If Geto were any other colleague, Kento could enjoy observing his symptoms in secret and touching himself to the memory later. But with mutual attraction established and a sexual history between them, Kento is faced with the incubus of decision, unsure as to whether it would be welcome for him to make an advance later – or even impolite of him not to. Ethically, given their positions, the ball should be in his court.

He resolves to hit it back, assuming Geto has already figured him out.

⏳🍃♻️🃏🌊 

He squanders the opportunity when they’ve moved onto the next room and taken a unanimous interest in one of the contemporary collections. Kento is giving attention to the desaturated painting in front of him when Geto leans into the top of a half-raised fist and turns to the side.

“ngkt!” 

Oh, god. 

The room is too silent for Kento not to say something, and he isn’t about to respond playfully like Geto’s other friends do. Even if Kento were that kind of person, he doesn’t have it in him right now. All he can do is rely on his reflexes to steady his tone as he looks over and says, “Gesundheit.”

A pleasant smile is his reward. Geto sniffles, recovering, and says, “That isn’t Danish, is it?”

“German, technically,” Kento explains to Geto’s relaxing presence. It’s actually easier than if Geto had simply thanked him and then let the exchange hang like a void. Right now, he’d rather talk about language than sneezing. “But it’s been co-opted all over.”

“What do I say back?” Geto refuses to follow Kento’s lead in returning his gaze to the wall. “Is it just a thank you, like with the other one?”

He must already know the answer, which means he’s asking for fun. Kento braces himself and says, “Usually, yes.”

Geto sniffs and replies, “I’ll remember that next time.”

It all hangs like a void anyway, but that may be inevitable at this point. Kento moves onto the next artist, wishing for a smidge of cursed energy to pollute the atmosphere and give them something new to talk about.

🛎🐉⏳🖼🎏

It gets worse after they move to an older wing of the building. The air is different somehow but still missing any darkness, and the faint crumble of the walls adds an authentic haze to the surrounding scrolls and statues. The crowd is lighter here, which means unexpected noise is an interruption and more likely to stand out.

After sniffling madly for several minutes, Geto buckles behind the side of his hand and gives into the inevitable. “HGTch! EHGT!—gh…”

A tourist offers him a tissue, and Geto’s acceptance of it makes Kento feel unexpectedly possessive, an uncharacteristic surge of petulance saying that only he and Gojo should be allowed to do that. Geto continues sniffling anyway, using the donation to catch the drip until he sneezes again – silently, with his nose pinched shut – and needs to throw it away.

“Would you like to stop somewhere on our way back?” asks Kento, hoping to alleviate the discomfort of his jealousy by offering to buy Geto’s medicine. “I’m sure there are plenty of drugstores around.”

“That’s a good idea,” Geto says. “Sorry for the trouble. Turns out I’ve been due a cold for a while.”

Kento frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Shoko posted in the group earlier; not sure if you saw,” Geto says. “There’s something going around all over.”

Kento absolutely did not see that. His phone is off limits until further notice. He’d say as much, but Geto’s nose starts to run and Kento becomes speechless watching him attempt to barricade it with the back of his palm. It’s so useless that it’s cute, and Kento wishes he were wearing something over his eyes so that he could stare shamelessly as Geto sniffles himself back to dignity.

“I’m not usually one of the last to get hit,” Geto continues. “You said yours had you feeling lousy. Do you remember what it was like?”

Terrible. Amazing. Miserable. Tremendous. The best sex he’d had in months.

“Just the usual,” Kento summarizes. “Why do you ask?”

Another sniffle. It’s either the draft or the dust in here making his nose run. Kento can’t stand it, so he surrenders to his dick and reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief.

“Just want to know what I’m in for,” Geto says, then stares at the cloth in Kento’s hand before receiving it hastily. He continues to speak as he holds it under his nose. “God. Thank you, sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kento pleads, because he’s that close to tipping straight over the edge.

🌦🎲🚏🔮

The air outside is colder when they finally exit the museum, fruitless in intel aside from being able to rule out another perfectly safe location. Geto’s symptoms have continued to escalate, and by the time they reach the bus station, he’s nearly run out of space on Kento’s handkerchief despite his attempts to preserve it. He could certainly stand to blow his nose, but it’s beyond Kento’s position to give out an order like that.

“Nanami, please use this to buy yourself a cup of coffee at the place down the street,” Geto says as he presses several bills into Kento’s reluctant palm. “You’ll have to go on your own. I’m going to embarrass you if I stay out much longer.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Are you starting to—”

“Hah’GHXTch!”

It could mean a lot of things.

“—to feel worse, Geto-san?”

Geto’s pristine posture is misleading, and Kento has spoken too soon. Geto’s index finger hovers in the air to signal at Kento to wait, then he drops his hand to Kento’s shoulder as he delays his answer with a second sneeze. 

 “GKHT’cheu!” He curls in on himself with a flinch, and Kento freezes in place as Geto jostles into a third. “heh-GKZSH’yu!”

“Oh. Um…”

It’s easier for Kento to be helpful through service than words, but all he can offer is an unsightly single-ply napkin from days ago. He doesn’t need to look at Geto to understand that he needs it, but he looks anyway as Geto is straightening up and retracting his hand.

“Here,” Kento says to Geto’s sniffling. “Will this do?”

“Sorry. Thanks,” answers Geto, who takes the tissue without using it. Fine, then. “I didn’t, uh…?”

“No,” Kento says immediately, whether the product of Geto’s cold had escaped onto him or not. He doesn��t dare check. He won’t even entertain the idea until he’s wearing trousers that won’t display what he thinks of the very concept.

The way Geto looks at him says that he may not believe that, but he doesn’t seem very upset about it. Kento adjusts his tie.

“Will you be going back to the hotel, then?” Kento asks. “To get some rest?”

“I suppose,” Geto answers. His sinuses are thoroughly plugged up now, given the sound they make when he tries breathing through his nose. “I’m not feeling all that bad, but it couldn’t hurt to nap for a while. Would you rather I take the bed or the living room?”

“Don’t be stupid, Geto-san,” Kento says. “You’re sick. Keep the bed for the rest of the trip, please, unless you really do sleep better in a roll-out on the ground.”

Geto smiles, narrowing his eyes brightly and making Kento’s throat flutter. “Satoru likes it when you give demands like that. You should do it with me more often.”

“What?”

“I’m not opposed to a little role-reversal. But speaking of Satoru…”

Kento tries his best to thaw from the shock and confusion while Geto slides out his phone and unlocks the screen.

“I need to send him and the others a live report so we can have admin mark today’s findings valid,” Geto says as he taps through his notes. It’s hard to understand him, with his voice sounding like that and the topic switch stalling Kento’s already-compromised focus. “Have you done one of those before?”

He takes a moment to speak through the whiplash and answer, “No, I don’t think I have.”

“All right. I can show you after we go up tomorrow, since there will probably be more to say about that one.” Geto smiles again. “I’ll take care of this when I get b-back…”

Head to toe, Kento stiffens.

“hhh! huh-NNDHt-chuh!”

Geto nods into it this time, napkin crushed in his hand, knuckles hovered beneath his nostrils to catch any damage. Kento stares without shame.

Then, when Geto unscrews the hard blink of his eyes and connects with him, Kento panics and says, “Bless you.”

In English, Geto says, “Thank you.” He ruins the napkin with one squeeze of his nose, pulling down and crudely rendering it translucent.

☕️🍞🌷🍺🌊

JUJUTSU TECH | Private Thread |  GO.SATO[GrSpc] to NAN.KEN[Gr1]

GO.SATO: Unmute me on Line

NAN.KEN: No.

GO.SATO: Yes!! GO.SATO: It’s an emergency!!!!

NAN.KEN: Why

GO.SATO: You’ll see!

– – 

GOJO!!: ▶ 🔘─────── 1:26 ⤓ GOJO!!: Urgent for you GOJO!!: Open asap GOJO!!: It’s work related GOJO!!: Omg did you mute this app 😢 GOJO!!: Wowwwwwwwwww GOJO!!: Juju messenger doesn’t let you mute people does it? GOJO!!: Hmm… GOJO!!: Hehehe GOJO!!: It’s good to have you back Nanamin 😊

NANAMI K: What is this?

GOJO!!: There you are! GOJO!!: Official file from special grade restricted group

NANAMI K: No it’s not. All messages sent in restricted groups are unavailable for download and redistribution.

GOJO!!: Wrong! GOJO!!: It’s a fixed report. AKA another dept needs to transcribe for quality control

NANAMI K: That isn’t part of my job.

GOJO!!: Nah I’m making Megumi do it 😊 GOJO!!: Just open it will ya? GOJO!!: Trust me you are gonna want to hear this

NANAMI K: I’m in public.

GOJO!!: So what? Wear your headphones! GOJO!!: And send me vids if you jack off to it :D 

NANAMI K has accepted 1 download request.

NANAMI K has received 1 file.

File download is complete.

[1-ichi]

hihiii love ur art its so pretty. I was wondering if u could draw taukishima stifling a sneeze?!? have a good day :))

awww tysm💖💖💖💖💖 ur comments give me sooo much energy to draw more💓

i adore the lethargic group(無気力組; the quiet ones in hai/kyuu dunno how to call them in english though) so it was fun to draw tsu/kki here��� definitely he would stifle....hehehe

[1-ichi]

I love seeing little charts that describe each character… here are roughs of j/jk characters.

(Assuming all have happily grown up to be pro sorcerers)

All head canons are my own opinions! lol

[1-ichi]

I wish I had something written for n/nm’s bday but unfortunately I do not have any idea juice atm🥲

may nnm with a box of tissues forever manifest in our minds… 🙏🏻

[1-ichi]

jjk snzcanons…

these have probably all been done to a degree so sorry if anything is redundant/similar to what others have posted! im sure you have all inspired me and my subconscious and my dick… anyways!

Nanami 👹👹👹

starting with his nose… well lets take a look at some shots!

:D

his nose is rather long, with the sliiightest little upturn at the end… nostrils are long and thin… definitely oval-shaped

if i needed to define it in one word only… i would say it’s “prominent”

ok now for the snz… ooouegh

when he’s around people at work or in public, he will stifle.

(“stifle”)

if it’s a random one-off sneeze, it can be made pretty quiet! it’ll be a pinched little thing… eg: “hh’ngkt!” “ht’gxt!” and the exhale after them will always be a bit shaky, he has to consciously control it so it doesn’t come out loudly

the thing is… as subtle as he tries to be, he’s a big guy. broad shoulders, pretty damn tall… so when he turns to the side and stifles a sneeze into the crook of his elbow, people are usually going to catch the motion at least, no matter how quiet the sneeze is… poor fuck!

he doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention, so on the chance no one notices, he won’t say anything. but if he’s caught in the act, he’ll excuse himself. usually a simple “pardon.”

🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

now for the half-stifles … aka when he has a cold/allergies are bothering him but he tries to keep it down. he knows these ones can’t be reigned in, but he at least tries to mitigate the sound/any potential messy aftermath.

eg: “hHNt’chhiew!” “hhHDT’tsch!” “hhHHT’dshhiuh!” “HIH’iszhh-iiuw!” “HAHDT’tszzhue!”

these ones can get a bit pitchy towards the end… it’s a little silly 🤭🤭

not usually a problem if he has to cover these w the crook of his elbow… but at this point he will most likely already have tissues prepared

these can be tamed with a single folded tissue, held up against his nose and mouth with one hand… one big hand with long slender fingers… hoohee

part 3: muffled sneeze, when he’s losing his grip on the former half-stifles. these require A. a bundle of tissues or B. the crook of his elbow, with the caveat that he braces it with his opposite hand to push it closer to his face

the second half is pretty breathy/airy

eg: “hih’MPHHh-ttschuh!” “hhHFF’TTDZHhue!”

and lastly… his final form… his actual Real Sneeze

it’s honestly not that bad… it’s a bit on the louder side, but nothing obnoxious. sometimes they can sound a bit harsh if he’s been dealing with a tickle for some time…

these are the ones he’ll let out at home or wherever else he may be alone… or the one’s that can no longer be kept under lock… very rarely as well if a sneeze sneaks up on him…

eg: “aht’TSZHHuuh!” “hh’ISZHHhue!” “ht’DZZSHhh!” “hHHRSCHhhue!”

big tissue guy… always has a little packet on him… like a slut…

honestly… ok. bear with me. but i do think he carries a handkerchief. it’s usually used for other shit, like wiping at dirt or picking up evidence (or giving it to people… AUEGGEHRHRGHHH), but if need be he will use it for his nose… it stays in his inner breast pocket

breast

okay next! blessing… “but ez” you say “this is japan they don’t do that”

ur right… but im working around it 👹

he has a pretty good read on people… if they want a sneeze to go under the radar he will keep his mouth shut… if someone is acting out for attention he will also keep his mouth shut (exhibit a: empathetic. exhibit b: won’t acknowledge bratty behavior)

but but BUT… i do think he will whip out the “Gesundheit” under special circumstances. to be polite. :)

on the off-chance he’s blessed he’s most likely just going to offer a gracious nod. maybe a quick “thank you.” he doesn’t want it to be a Thing

ok it’s been said before but i’ll say it again… he is SO hayfever coded. you might see him in a mask outside in the spring HEHEHEHEHEH (kicking my feet)

relatively okay immune system. it used to be Much Worse when he was a salaryman! now he might be able to get thru cold/flu season under the radar… but he’ll usually catch a cold or two at some point in the year… poor fuck…

usually they’re tame… however…

look at that man and tell me he doesn’t have sinus issues..: that’s right you can’t!!

practical about getting sick. he’s usually okay enough to go about his day, he medicates and wears a mask and stays at a distance… but he is Not immune to a Cold Or Flu From Hell that might necessitate him taking off

sensitive nose… some spices might get to him (it’s that quarter danish man…)

um okay that’s all i got for now… more in the future maybe! bye bye!

[1-ichi]

unintended consequences

I really need to thank this anon whoever they are for saying something so smart and so hot and having in general the world's largest brain because HELLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but also because this is the first long jjk fic i've writen in a while and i've really missed them so I want to give you an extra thank you for giving me the push needed to get through this slump

Fandom: Jujustu Kaisen // Characters: Yuta Okkostu, Inumaki Toge, Gojo, Ijichi - all characters 20+ // Length: 4.8k

Summary: All survival comes at a cost. Cursed speech only complicates things.

Additional tags/ cw: sneezing while hiding (almost) forced holdbacks, humiliation, lots of hitching/whining, pre relationship, canon typical violence, blood mentions, MESS like extremely detailed/copious descriptions of mess so much that it felt filthy even for me dlkfgldkgl like im so serious mess wise sneeze wise this is the filthiest thing ive ever posted

--

One of the key tenets of survival as a Jujutsu sorcerer is knowing when you’re outclassed. 

Yuta has been Toge’s support on several missions now. It’s mostly been cleaning up stray cursed spirits as Toge recovers from using his own cursed technique to shatter the majority of them from the inside out. Sometimes, it’s keeping Toge safe as he chugs throat spray, restoring himself so that he can be their ace. He’s not as efficient and nowhere near as nimble, but he hopes Toge is starting to see him as more of a teammate, and less of a burdensome newcomer he needs to keep safe.

He wants to be able to hold his own in battle. He wants to be the kind of skilled sorcerer his friends can be proud of. These are the things he has to remind himself of when his legs start to shake, and the cursed energy flowing into his katana begins to waver unsteadily with his fear.

Like right now. As Toge kneels at his side, spitting blood and pink foam onto grimy concrete in the massive shadow of a cursed spirit’s misshapen body. 

“Don’t you like me?” it says in a distorted gargle. In the center of its body, there’s a lump shaped like a head, sporting morosely hollow eyes and stringy, matted tangles of hair, stretched out and titled to stare down at them from a vantage point several feet up. “Aren’t I beautiful?”

No, thinks Yuta, feeling a bit like a hypocrite. 

He takes one grit scraping, steadying step backwards, feeling his arms trembling as he notes the spirit’s true mouth near its stomach. Slimy, violet liquid drips down from the corners, oozing into the folds of its terrible body. 

Toge scrambles to his feet, still coughing, harsh and unrelenting. He brings up a sleeve, smearing blood across his chin. He doesn’t look well.

The last thing Toge said hardly had any effect on the spirit. Actually, Yuta swears he saw the spirit brush the energy aside, swatting it away like it was nothing more than cigarette smoke. So really, how much can he do?

Breathe, Yuta  tells himself. You can do this. 

So he does, breath coming in fast, shallow pants as the spirit advances, towering over them. He readies his katana. Inhales. Exhales. You can do this.

The spirit makes what he can only guess is eye contact as the mask tilts at a 90 degree angle, facing straight at him. 

You can do this.

It starts to laugh, low and guttural. It’s unnatural. Spine tingling. A sound that will stay with him for days. The mouth of the mask curves into a smile, reveals jagged, yellowing teeth, and he— pictures Toge saying get back for the second time and the way the spirit simply laughed that same, hideous, taunting laugh and he—

can’t do this, he can’t do it, nonononono nope they’re going to die if he doesn’t do something else—

Adrenaline pulsing through his veins, he scoops Toge by the waist and starts to scream as he runs them down the corridor.

“Shake,” Toge croaks in his arms. That’s the affirmative ingredient, Yuta remembers. Then he’s made the right choice, if that matters any. It’s hard to feel proud of himself as he hears the cursed spirit screeching, breaking walls in its steady pursuit of them. 

Thankfully, its size makes it slow. 

They might get flack for it later, but they’re going to have to call for someone of a higher grade. Better teased than dead. Yuta just needs to buy them time.

He makes a sharp turn down an opening to a hallway, then another at the first new turn he sees, paralyzing fear skittering through his nerves when he realizes that he’s taken them down a dead end. In front of them is a wall and a single door. Behind them is an early grave.

“No, no, no,” he whispers frantically, exhaling through gritted teeth when he tries the door handle and it gives. Toge already has his phone in hand, hastily texting Gojo, who’s supervising from just outside the barrier.

Stifling a whimper, Yuta pushes the door open and shuffles them both inside, willing himself to calm down. They just need to stay safe and hidden a little longer. He’d noticed earlier that this cursed spirit didn't seem to have real eyes. If he’s guessing correctly, it relies on hearing alone. 

Which means they’re safe. Properly hidden. 

In the glow of Toge’s phone, Yuta can make out that they’re in some sort of storage closet. Three dots appear and begin to bounce from Gojo’s end, but his legs are still wobbling. Trying to get his bearings, he takes a step back and startles when his shoulder knocks against something stiff and unstable.

With a frantic swipe, he grabs what ends up being a broom, getting a faceful of what can only be years of dust. A powdery cloud of grit settles around him, and he makes the mistake of inhaling in surprise. Instantly, his eyes start to water from the rushing, sheer volume of it, caking his throat, tickling his nose.

Yuta exhales, frenzied but measured, a sharp buzzing rearing up in his sinuses. He shakes his head, unable to help himself from giving a slight, involuntary whimper at how sharp and demanding the sudden need to sneeze is. Blinking hard, he shoves his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Any unexpected sound could- no will- get them killed.

He can hear the cursed spirit’s heavy breathing as it seeks them out, feeling its way along the walls, licking its lips. 

All the while, his body begs to start hitching. Dust coats every inch of his nasal passages, and he’s always suspected a mild allergy to it. His chest hikes with need, lips pulling back, nostrils flaring against a desperately raised wrist because he just can’t — “hih!”  Seriously? He thinks. It’s really going to end like this? It shouldn’t end like this, but he’s going to… to!— He hisses out a breath through clenched teeth and it backfires into a tight, damning “hiiiih—!”

“Don’t.” Toge whispers, leaning up, and Yuta feels his body seizing. Fingers of cursed energy wrap around his sternum like a ghost, climbing into his ribcage and shooting up his throat, slamming a wall down in the face of his body’s impulse. At the same time, Toge cages his hands around Yuta’s mouth.

“heh’ndH—! yhhhh…” he exhales against Toge’s palm, tasting flecks of iron. Outside, a shadow passes underneath the door, accompanied by a low growl. Yuta’s eyes are wide, his heart pounding, and strangely, he still feels the same tremendous need to sneeze. Whatever Toge’s done, it hasn’t quelled the irritation, only frozen it in an unbearable, trancelike state.

Together, they wait in uncertainty as the growling comes close, so close that Yuta can hear the wet gurgling that seems to coat it— and then recedes.

Toge’s shoulders fall with unsure relief, but his fingers stay laced over Yuta’s mouth. Yuta himself doesn’t want to risk knocking anything else over in the darkness, so he stills and accepts their position. Tears slip down his cheeks, half from fear and half from his angrily stinging sinuses. He hopes that Toge doesn’t mind. He’s too scared to dwell much on it.

They stay like that, tense and huddled close, until an abrupt, violent roar of tearing flesh, punctuated by a mangled, incomplete shriek diverts their attention. A few seconds later, a slice of light falls over them. 

“There you are,” says Gojo, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like there was a first grade cursed spirit here after all. My bad.”

“Okaka,” Toge huffs sharply, narrowing his eyes. He releases his grip on Yuta and then brushes his hands against his uniform. 

“Well, we did say there was a slim chance there might be one hanging out around.” Gojo shrugs, grinning. “Whoopsies. But good on you guys, knowing when to quit.” 

Yuta follows Toge out of the storage room, vigorously rubbing the side of his nose, too fixated on that to share Toge’s annoyance with their mentor. His stomach twists at the sight of dark blood, spattered all the way up to the ceiling at the end of the hall.  

“You good?” Gojo asks.

“Huh?” Yuta startles, grip instinctively tightening on his katana. “Oh, y-yeah I’m juhh…” His sentence tapers without warning, the need to sneeze crawling down the bridge of his nose and then settling on some unknown precipice. An irritated tear spills from his waterline, and then he starts to fan his face, greedily trying to urge the sensation along. He knows it looks ridiculous, but it tickles so badly that it’s all he can think about.

“Hih—! Ihiieihh—!” He tilts his head back, back— “Hihd—tieuh!” … and it’s gone. He sniffles miserably, and then his breath lifts into another fruitless cycle of, “hih! hiih?” that only ends in more frantic nose rubbing as the itch backs off just before it can fully crest. Toge and Gojo are both staring at the show he’s putting on, Toge with concern and Gojo with an unsurprising amount of amusement.

Yuta sniffles, then sniffles again, the skin around his upturned nose growing a deep shade of red.

“Someone wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I really need thih…” Yuta offers in vain, immediately losing his composure. He starts to fan his face again. This is frustrating, he can hardly form a sentence without his nose interrupting him. “hihht—! ndh... snf … snff! … to sneehiehhH!...Nnh… To sneeze.” he finishes lamely, coughing just because his body can’t seem to do much else.

“Well, yeah, I can see that much.”

“Tsuna tsuna, okaka mentaiko,” explains Toge, motioning to the gore down the hall.

“I see. So you,” he turns to Yuta, “were going to blow your cover and you,” he turns back to Toge, “were just trying to stop it.” Gojo gives his chin a contemplative rub. “Well, the good news is that cursed speech isn’t permanent and that’ll wear off eventually.”

“The bad news is that—“

And Yuta means to listen, he really does, but the resounding, burning twinge in his sinuses has no regard for polite conversation. His nose starts scrunching again, so he swivels around, ready to start another ridiculous display of hitching. It’s unbearable, impossible to think of anything other than how much he needs to sneeze. Eyes streaming, he rubs his nose with an unabashed, almost primal vigor, fervently trying to tease… t-tease ouhhht—

“HAeh’YYIEESHHH’IEWH!” - he ends up sneezing so violently that gossamer strands of spit cling to his lower lip, straightening to see that both Toge and Gojo have taken a step back. He opens his mouth to apologize, and the need to sneeze again takes over with a demand so intense that it aches. Chest heaving, he turns away and sneezes a wretched, viciously spraying  double. “HEihK’YZSchhiUWh! hah-AESCHHhh’eugh!!”

“Oh, wow.” There’s genuine awe in Gojo’s tone, and Yuta isn’t quite sure how he feels about that.

Worse though, is that somehow it feels like absolutely nothing has changed. Like even though his body is finally letting him sneeze, the irritation is only blooming outward and circling back. He braces a hand on one knee and tips his head back, squinting at dust motes floating in the faint light coming at the barrier’s dissolution. 

“Heh… ih…?--IIEh’SCHhHYIEWh! —IESCHhH’iiUU! —AIISCHhhhyiu!” He rocks forward as the sneezes tumble out of him, pitchily vocal and so quickly that they’re almost on top of eachother. Shimmering drops of moisture collect around his feet, each sneeze dislodging more and more mess from both nostrils. The fit leaves him with one side threatening to drip past his nose and into his waiting palm and the other teasing its way down his upper lip.

And still, he feels like he could sneeze again at any second. He stays bent double by the wall, panting from exertion, smearing mess into collar because he isn’t sure what else to do.

Gojo rests a palm on his shoulder, and Yuta turns, eyes huge and damp.

“Here.” There’s a crumpled up, obviously used brown napkin in one of his outstretched hands, fished directly from his pocket. “Looks like you could use this.”

Yuta coughs, graciously accepting Gojo’s far from ideal offering. What looks like dried ketchup is collected at the most wrinkled part of it. He blows his nose in a clean corner, holding the napkin nervously underneath his septum once he’s finished.

“Better?”

“A little… I think?” Yuta answers honestly, quickly pressing the napkin to his nose again with a wince as the urge to sneeze flares and recedes. “I don’t know.”

“Hm. I don’t know either. That was what I was going to say earlier. I’m not sure how long it’ll be until the cursed energy works its way out of your system. You might be stuck in and out like this for a while.”

Yuta can’t help it when his expression caves with disbelief. He’s too busy thinking about the implications of what Gojo has said and scrubbing his face to notice Toge’s fretful glances as Gojo leads them out of the building.

—

While they’re waiting for Ijichi to pull up to the alleyway, Yuta’s nose starts to act up again. He can’t tell if it’s the dust still blanketed across his shoulders or the fuzzy static of cursed energy winding through his system, but either way, he’s turned away from the others, a hand preemptively raised inches from his face.

He’s already sneezed a few more times since they made it out, so he’s not sure why his body seems to have gotten stuck again. Desperate for something to happen, he wriggles and prods at his nose, sniffling and sniffling to no avail. 

Annoyed, he exhales heavily, trying to trigger his body into hitching. His breath quickens, but it doesn’t stick. He pouts within the sanctuary of flimsy privacy, a thin, keening whine escaping him, tight with itchy frustration.

Someone touches him and he startles, caught.

“Takana?” Toge rasps. The high collar of his uniform is unzipped, revealing rust hued blood drying on his chin. His eyes are clouded with worry. 

“I’m okay,” Yuta says with a watery smile and another sniffle. He can sense Toge’s guilt. He can only draw from his own experience, but he knows what it’s like to see someone suffer unintentionally at his hands. Sadness doesn’t suit someone so kind hearted like Toge. “Thanks for what you did in there, by the way. You’re always saving the day.”

Toge shakes his head and looks away with a soft huff, politely brushing off Yuta’s compliments. His frowns, eyes flitting back up.

“Ikura?” This time, Yuta smiles nervously.

“Umm, yeah…”

Toge shakes his head, gesturing to his own face.

“Oh! That. It’s not veryhh—“ Yuta sniffs sharply, squinting until the itch backs off. Which it does, much to his ire. “Sorry. Not very comfortable. Cursed speech is really effective, huh? I can still feel it, but I guess that’s kinda…” When Toge starts to grow blurry in front of him, Yuta angles his head away, holding up an index finger. “Hihh…IhkTT!—yhhh…” Lost again.

He rubs his nose with the edge of a knuckle, sniffles, continues, “kinda obvious, isn’t it?”

“Shake,” nods Toge, eyes dropping to the sidewalk. There’s a solemnity in the silence that follows that Yuta wishes he knew how to chase away.

When Ijichi pulls up not much later, they shuffle into the backseat. Yuta balances his katana against the car interior, and then quirks an eyebrow when he sees Gojo leaning over to speak to Ijichi through the driver’s side window.

“Sensei, are you not coming back with us?”

“Nope,” Gojo affirms. “There’s a bakery in the area I’ve always wanted to check out, so I’ll be taking a little detour.”

“And I’ll be driving back out here later,” adds Ijichi, unamused. 

“Ohhh, don’t be like that. I’ll pick up a set of mochi for your troubles.”

“Mm,” hums Ijichi, unconvinced. “And will you eat half of it again, too?”

“Anyways, I’ve informed Ijichi here that you might be experiencing some cursed speech side effects, so there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

Yuta flushes, wishing he could sink a little further into the seats. This sort of spotlight, while necessary, makes him feel like a child, needing to be monitored. In the rear view mirror, he can show how puffy and raw his face looks as if he’s struggling with hayfever and out of antihistamines. In a strange, convoluted way, he supposes, he is.

“Don’t worry,” says Gojo, incorrectly translating his expression. “You’re in good hands.”

“Of course,” replies Yuta. He’s noticed that his classmates don’t always respond to fill space in the way that he does. Toge is already leaning against the window, chin perched in his hands and seemingly unbothered by the additional conversation. Maki is usually similarly disinterested in talking to anyone when they’re paired together.

He gives Gojo one last polite glance, and then he readjusts himself in the backseat, squishing a crease into his septum with a firm held knuckle. His eyes are watering ominously with that need-to-sneeze-but-not-quite feeling again. 

Ijichi pulls the car forward, and Yuta exhales stuffily through his mouth, preparing for a long, uncomfortable car ride home.

-

It’s the air conditioning that undoes him this time. 

Sudden cool air has always been enough to make his nose start running, but with Toge’s cursed energy still shedding off him in small waves, it seems like his body can’t decide where the sensation begins and ends. Even the smallest irritation keeps making him… making him need to—!

“Hhh’IHk—! -yiuhhh…snf!”

Only after the third time that Yuta’s breathing stutters and he starts to bring what’s left of the abused napkin to his mouth, only for the entire ordeal to end in a soft, miserable whine, does someone else break the silence.

“Okkotsu?” asks Ijichi, coming to a stop for a red light. An old woman crosses the street while he twists back to take stock of his charges. “Are you doing alright back there?”

“Mhm,” Yuta dabs at the corner of his eyes, not feeling certain he’ll be able to give Ijichi a proper answer. “I’ll be alright, it’s just… snrf! jhhhih.. hihhH—? EH’nt—! yhhhh…” With a small shudder, he whimpers as the sneeze retreats prematurely, flickering just beyond his reach. 

“My nose,” he finally laments. He presses the side of his hand to a pink, twitching nostril and blinks, over and over again.

“I see. I’m no expert in this.” The light flashes green, scenery Yuta isn’t paying any attention to shifting away as the car accelerates. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Tsunamayo,” Toge murmurs. There’s a soft click, a seatbelt coming undone, and then Toge is half standing near the middle seat, balancing himself between the headrests.

“Oh?” says Ijichi.

“Tsunatsuna.” 

“Oh, yes, I can do that.”

Yuta is too engrossed in his own misery to put together what’s happening around him, too laser focused on the overwhelming sensation of needle-thin pricks of cursed energy, a brush fire ignited from a loose match, hellishly licking at the sides of his nasal passages.

Tentatively, Toge inches closer to him, one hand curving to fit Yuta’s back but not quite touching it, as if he’s approaching a wounded animal. His mouth is hidden, but his eyes, drawn and shimmering with a docile tenderness, offer no disguise for how guilty he looks. Despite how limited speech is, Toge’s heart seems to come stitched on his sleeve, easy to read for those with eyes to see it.

Allowing Toge to comfort him would hold meaning, Yuta can see that. And maybe that’s because he knows if their roles were reversed, that’s what he’d yearn for, too. A chance for absolution, to prove that even a cursed heart could still have the best intentions.

They’re alike, aren’t they? Lives colored by loneliness, too terrified of their own calamitous power to risk letting anyone close. Toge is kind. Patient and observant and selfless, a garden with a single, marvelous, poisoned flower. 

He’s never wanted Yuta to feel alone. 

Peering over his fingers, Yuta looks to Toge, searching, and then leans in, inviting Toge to close the distance. When Toge’s fingers settle against his uniform, gentle, wholly anticipated, something about it still feels electric. Sacred, almost. Yuta tenses and relaxes, easing into the comfort of Toge’s presence.

“Hih-hih…!” For the brief second he can, Yuta wonders if Toge will pull away. Instead he does the opposite. The touch on his shoulder grows firmer, more confident. “Hihh’IHd—nndhhT’yuhh…”

With a sniffle and another exasperated, fruitless exhale, Yuta closes his eyes and coughs ticklishly, letting himself disappear into the small circles being massaged into his shoulder blade.

It feels really nice. Gives him something to focus on other than how wrung out all this has made him feel. His nose twitches, cupid's bow stretching down.

“Hehh—! ….ahIIHhh—!” Yuta tilts his chin back, body arching, desperate for his body to just let him—!! Fueled by raw desire alone, he starts rubbing his nose so hard that all he can hear is the sound of his own squelching congestion amidst the flat whir of the air conditioning. Not for the first time, his hitching starts to take on a vocal, pleading quality. “HIhh’T! snf- Hah… ha’eeehhhH—!”

It’s mortifying, but somehow Toge’s presence feels like a permission to give in, to pull himself towards the urge in whatever achingly human way he needs to. The cadence of the circles on his back remains steady. 

Yuta draws in one final, gasping breath, and as if something has shifted, as if he’s finally been unshackled from the mercies of cursed speech, he rocks forward with a miserable, disastrous,

“HeihhhHT—! A’IIGYSCHHhh’EUgh!” The seatbelt catches as he jerks forward, keeping his body from bending forward as much as it needs to. His hands are tented over his mouth, but the spray mists his lap anyways. Immediately, his breath hitches sharply, chest swelling in preparation for another.

“Okkotsu?” Ijcihi says with concern. Yuta doesn’t answer.

“Haht’yIESCHHhh’ewH! - hih.. hiiIIHH—! ‘AEEHDSCHHhh’hyiuew! snf… snrff!- hah… hahH! IhhHH’ihhYYESCHhhhiEW!” Struggling for breath, Yuta coughs a few times, keeping his head ducked down while he sneezes and sneezes. He can’t see the damage, but he can feel it, saliva clinging to his mouth, fresh strands of mess bursting from his nose and falling onto his knees each time he pitches forward. 

Whatever was left of that napkin is now in ruins, so flimsy and soaked beyond its original form that it’s nothing more than a cheap afterthought in the face of how messy his sneezes are. Moisture runs down his wrists, running in a watery trail down his forearm.

“Okaka,” Toge murmurs, petting his back. It’s the reassuring tone someone would use if they were saying ‘It’s alright’. Yuta feels him move closer, and then hands, pulling his hair behind his ears just before the twinge in his sinuses becomes unbearable and he folds with another uncontrollably heavy sneeze. 

“Hah… ahIIYh’SSCHhhhewH!” Sinuses still prickling, he rushes his collar to his face and hitches into it until another miserable sneeze overcomes him. A line of warm mist settles from his chest to his stomach.

There’s shifting pressure at his side as Toge moves away, followed by muffled voices and sounds that he can’t really make out. 

“Oh, of course. Let me see.”

His eyes sting from how much they’re watering, and his features remain drawn in waiting.

“HEHh… Haahhh—? IyYSCHHh’eugh!”

“Shake, mentaiko,” Toge says, ushering tissues into the crevices of his damp fingers. And then he’s back, steady and soothing, willing to see Yuta through this terrible display.

All Yuta can do is whimper an exhausted thanks, barely able to ball them up before pressing them to his mouth.

“Hah’AEhTSsshhYiewh! Ih’IISHHIiiewhh! —IhhKK!” The final sneeze falters and backs off, giving Yuta the chance to double over coughing as he sucks air back into his lungs. His cheeks burn. What’s happening is no fault of his own, but it’s still not easy to see the glittering spoils of his fit, decorating every inch of the space in front of him.

Completely spent, he glances down, gingerly assessing the glossy drips of mess soaking his uniform, congealing on his lap, even sliding in thick tendrils down the leather of the driver's seat. He cringes, realizing then that he hasn’t even accounted for what’s still running down his nose. Now that he’s able to collect himself, he doesn’t even know where to start, or what to do with the shame welling in his gut.

Tenderly, he swipes at his face, hesitant to do much else. He cleans his shirt with stiff, shaky motions, discouraged by the thought of taking up any more space than he needs to.

“Okkotsu?” Yuta’s eyes fly up at the sound of his own name, muscles tensing.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay back there? Do you want me to stop the car?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean, I’m alright for now, we can keep going…” Yuta bites back a sigh and drops his gaze, willing himself not to feel so flustered. There’s a beat of silence, and then he sniffles. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t see the way Ijichi softens or how Toge starts to shake his head.

“Don’t worry. These cars see much worse.”

“Shake,” Toge says in agreement.

“Ah,” Yuta swallows. Apprehension roots itself in his nervous system. “Thanks, Toge,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to explain himself further, but he hopes Toge will understand what he means, hopes that Toge won’t pick up on the heat at the base of his neck. 

To his surprise, Toge pats his shoulder. When Yuta looks up, Toge tilts his head sympathetically. Unable to detect any judgment, Yuta sags, overwhelmed with unexpected relief.  

“Tsunamayo,” Toge says. He raises a hand in a half wave. Of course. It’s no big deal. “Takana?”

“Mhm.” Yuta nods, hoping to refresh himself by closing his eyes for a second. He gives Toge a shy, pained smile that feels less forced the longer he holds Toge’s gaze. “I do feel a little better.”

Toge nods in return. Then, he pulls his phone out but doesn’t move seats. Exhaling carefully, Yuta busies himself by absently wiping his hands at his sides, shuddering any time he takes a breath and senses its potential to evolve into something deeper. There are dregs of cursed energy still dissipating around him. Dormant, not gone. 

Eventually, the car rolls to a stop, but not at the entrance to Jujutsu Tech. Instead, Yuta is greeted by windows full of neatly arranged products and artificial light. They’ve detoured to a convenience store.

“Wait,” he starts, confused. “It’s okay, we don’t need to stop.”

“You can relax, Okkotsu. We’re here at Inumaki’s request.”

“Oh,” Yuta says, sitting awkwardly in his misunderstanding of the situation. “I see. I’m going to stay here, if that’s alright.”

After Ijichi confirms with him that it is, Yuta waits for both him and Toge to leave before bringing both hands to his face and pressing his fingertips into his eyes. He needs to decompress. He tips his head back and sighs wearily, letting the heaviness of all of the days’ stress and shame run through him. He stares at the blank velvet of the ceiling, unhappily zoned out until a door opens, alerting him to Toge’s return. 

There’s a full plastic bag looped around his elbow. While he settles in by the other window, Yuta straightens up, suddenly fascinated with the intricacies of the parking lot. He watches a bird hop onto a curb while Toge rustles around.

“Tsuna,” announces Toge, and Yuta looks over, finding a collection of items neatly arranged at his side. Hand sanitizer, tissues, nasal spray, and plum candy, a kind he really favors. He remembers saying so in an offhand comment once, when they’d stopped to reward themselves after a different assignment. He finds himself blushing, raising a hand to shield his reddening cheeks.

“Thank you.”

Toge nods, smiling with his eyes before turning away. Yuta imagines his mouth underneath his uniform, the seals quirking up. Gently, he tears at the candy’s plastic packaging and slips it into his mouth, grateful for the foreign sensation of sweetness on his tongue.

He opens the tissues next, briefly glancing up, gaze lingering on Toge’s eyelashes, golden in the evening light, the violet of his irises moving back and forth over his screen. Something flutters in his chest, and he looks away.

For a fleeting, precious second, the dread that’s always knotted somewhere deep in his chest wavers and evaporates. Whatever the rest of the day may bring, he decides that as long as Inumaki Toge is there, it won’t be so bad. 

[1-ichi]

don’t know if anyone follows the manga series “D/ont call it m/ystery” or M/isuteri to I/u N/akare but there is so much snz…

Our sweet little protagonist is just one sneezy dude. These are cuts of him coming down witha cold. I watched the live action and he’s also sneezing in it because of dust!

the Japanese lettering that looks like “くしゅ” is onomatopoeia for sneezing btw (the choo part of the snz). Usually Japanese manga ppl just write “ハックション(generic achoo)” but this author has so many diverse snz sounds!! It’s kinda what caught my attention

[1-ichi]

can a/kaashi plz have a loud boisterous snz and b/okuto dainty stifles? I love seeing mismatch in established personality vs their natural responses.

[1-ichi]

As an international person on snzblr, I have to embarrassingly admit that I literally gained English skills through the forum and browsing on tumblr (It took me a while to actually post but...)

Ppl say my English is pretty good and ask me why and how, but I can’t be upfront with them about it 🤣🤣 so I literally say I watched Disney channel growing up

[1-ichi]

Wait did u say Sakusa likes BEING INDUCED !?!??xhdirgcjgugkcgsjgo😱🤯😱🤯😱🤯

This absolutely made my day

oops, I may have said that 😂🫶🏻

My thoughts. He wouldn’t be inclined to be induced with a tissue or a tag (at first!!!), but he’d surprisingly be okay with his partner gently brushing or rubbing the bridge of his nose. His pride definitely hinders him from confirming nor denying that he likes it though…

[1-ichi]

s/akusa (if he had this fet) would be the epitome of germaphobic snzfker.

Like look at this beautiful masked man!! I love how you can trace the bridge of his nose through the creases in his mask… and all the frowny lines between his eyebrows. The distinct moles above his brow conveniently (inconveniently for him) move around to give away his anticipation.

if he had the fet, I’d imagine him more attracted to the act of snzing (doing it himself and being induced) and occasionally seeing his significant other snz.

would be more repulsed than attracted when seeing strangers or peers (like a/tsumu or h/inata who just snzs way too loudly and openly). Wouldn’t indulge in videos but audio he can understand

[1-ichi]

I wonder who would be the first man down. Or could it be all three of them just struggling with allergies? Personally, I’d like to see n/anami being hit the worst and the other two taking care of their junior. Since usually, it’s the other way around where N/anami is being dragged around by their antics.

Thinking of Go/ge/nana (either platonic or romantic…no preference at the moment). I admire people who can write long fics or draw because I’d love to explore their dynamic too 😭😭 for the time being, i made a rough doodle on my phone…