It started as a mission, apparently.

Gojo and Shoko had decided—very loudly, and very publicly—that they were going to make Nanami Kento blush.

Sitting under a tree between classes, Nanami had his tie loosened just slightly, his textbook open on his lap, and his patience evaporating by the second.

Gojo, leaning over him upside-down “Come on, Nanamin. Not even a little pink? Not even from my devastating charm?”

“No.”

Shoko flicks his cheek* “Seriously? Nothing? Do you even have blood circulation?”

“I’m beginning to question it around the two of you.”

They had poked him, complimented him, teased him, attempted to read the first page of his economics book in seductive whispers—Gojo’s idea, obviously—and Shoko even tried threatening to take candid photos of his baby face.

No reaction. Not even a twitch.

You watched all of it from a few steps away, arms crossed, biting back laughter. Nanami looked… tired. In that Nanami way where he seemed more weary of Gojo’s existence than of the concept of life itself.

Finally, Gojo groaned and threw himself onto the grass.

“This is impossible. He’s immune. He’s a stoic brick wall with hair.”

Shoko flicked ash off her cigarette. “Maybe he only reacts for certain people.”

Gojo perked up instantly. “Oh? Ohhh? You mean—”

They both turned to you.

You sighed. “…Fine.”

Nanami looked up, confused, just in time for you to walk over. You didn’t sit. You didn’t tease.

You just slipped a finger under his chin—gentle, deliberate.

His breath hitched.

Nanami froze.

And in a tone soft enough to melt stone, low enough to curl right into his spine, you murmured

“My good boy.”

Nanami’s mind shut down.

Actually shut down.

His eyes widened, his posture went rigid, and the tips of his ears went violently, unmistakably pink. His mouth opened slightly—like he meant to speak—but nothing came out except a tiny exhale that sounded dangerously close to a whimper.

Gojo screamed. “NO WAY—YOU BROKE HIM—YOU ACTUALLY BROKE NANAMIN—”

Shoko choked on smoke and coughed-laughed. “Holy shit. He blue-screened.”

Nanami still hadn’t moved.

His gaze was locked on you, pupils blown, face warm, hands trembling just barely where he clenched them over his textbook.

“…I—” he finally managed, voice strained and embarrassingly soft, “—that was… uncalled for.”

But he didn’t pull back.

He didn’t even try.

You leaned in just a fraction closer—close enough for him to feel your breath.

And his brain fully restarted the moment you smiled.