#anyway reblogs/comments are always super duper appreciated <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Greetings, Dirktectives, it's lil old me again! Comin' at ya with some more @dghdabigbang goodness -- this time featuring Rowdy boys!

Got a lil bit experimental with this one bc I haven't done digital art in ages and wanted to mess around ^_^ Image descriptions in alt text!

Anyway, if you like these you better go read the excellent fic they're based off, Spinning Earth, Beating Hearts; written by the excellent @dogdogdog, who's doing god's work and giving us more Martin and Vogel found family goodness. Go, go do it! And give them love and comments!

(if you can't read the fic yet, the collection hasn't been revealed -- timezones are hell and I might be a bit early xD)

[cellophaine]

Daybed

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 831

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I don't know if I'm doing this right 😬 please let me know what you think! I hope you will enjoy this little drabble :)

The title is inspired by FKA Twigs' Daybed. I listened to this song while writing this piece, and the entire time I felt like I was wrapped/protected in a secured, translucent film with the gradually ascension and descension in the instruments and lyrics.

As always, any likes, comments, reblogs, feedbacks and ask submissions are super duper appreciated :)

Prompt requested by: Anon <3

------

Life with Matt was a different kind of peace. You shared a vow, a home and a love that ran so deep; you could feel your heart twist in its cage. And you welcomed that beautiful ache every day.

You had gotten into the habit of setting your alarm half an hour earlier than the actual time you needed to get up, so you two would have more cuddle time, trading kisses and body heat. You would never get tired of the way his hand trailed down your spine in a delicate pattern, of the way he looked when he first woke up in the morning — the sleep still lingered around his eyes, his hair stuck out in random places. You loved running your hands through it, trying to tame the soft strands or to mess it up even more.

On the days when Matt got up first, he would bring you a cup of tea, often accompanied with fond kisses on your cheeks, lips, along your shoulders, neck, any patch of bare skin he could find. He liked to nudge his nose along your throat, feeling the steady pulse. It acted as a reminder for him that you were here, alive and with him.

Some nights, after Matt got back from patrol, he would find you sleeping on the couch. You waited for him in case he had any wound that needed to be taken care of. He would pick you up gently, tried his best not to rouse you from your slumber. The movement woke you anyway as you blinked sleepily at your husband. You braced a hand on his shoulder, pulling yourself up to plant a languid kiss on his cheek.

“Do you need to be patched up?”

“No, I’m fine, sweetheart. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He tugged you into bed, then settled in with you after taking his suit off and making himself more comfortable. With his arms winded around your frame, he soaked in your warmth, your scent, seeking out the peace that he desperately needed. You knew how to touch him, to comfort him as you trailed your fingers down his back, your nails scratching his scarred skin gentle enough to draw happy sighs from him.

Weekends would be the days when you love to take your time, drawing out your quality time with your husband. Then, when you slowly awoke from your sleep, Matt would wind himself closer to you, peppering you with lazy kisses, luring you into sleep again with the easy and familiar flow of your rituals.

Matt would always have a photo of you in his wallet, keeping closed next to the bills you helped him folded. He loved having a piece of you close to him, even if the chosen object was something he could not see.

When you get nervous, and Matt picked up on the rapid spike of your heart rate, no matter the time and place, he would put a stop to anything and everything he was doing to make sure you were alright. He would hold you in his embrace, smoothing a hand over your hair, rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back as he whispered in your ears:

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart. Everything will be fine.”

You would often read to him, with his head on your lap, your hand absently caressed him. He listened intently to your voice; a soft smile full of admiration would grace his lips. You would discuss the books that you have accumulated and read over the years.

You often found yourself cuddling with Matt on the rooftop of your place, with soft blankets for cold nights, listening to the voice of New York, loud and never-ending. You would pull the other in for a kiss from time to time, as you basked in each other’s presence, in the golden tranquillity that you treasured, under the inky night sky adorned with stars, few and far between.

Matt would play with your wedding band, feeling the smooth metal, warmed by your body heat. It was a reminder for Matt how lucky he was to be married to you, how lucky you were to find and to have each other, despite all the obstacles life threw at you. He would bring your hand to his lips, kissing your ring with nothing but adoration. He would then move to kiss your knuckles, your fingers, inviting you to touch him. Matt loved it when you caressed his face; your fingers ghosted over his features. You would bring him closer and seal your lips over his. The little moments that Matt loved with the entirety of his heart, for your little actions spoke thousands of words, showing him your love for him by the thrum of your heart that he knew so well, by the way your body reacted to him, to his touches, to his presence.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

7th Dimension (Chapter 7.1)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 7

7TH DIMENSION MASTERLIST

7TH DIMENSION WATTPAD LINK (I’m always 1-2 chapters ahead in this site) (Head on to it and don’t be shy to introduce yourselves or leave a comment! <3 Love y'all! <3)

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Small!Naive!Fem!Foreign!Reader | THIS IS A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC. THIS IS AN X READER FANFIC WHO HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO THE DIMENSION OF JUJUTSU KAISEN | (Trust me, you'll live. I hope?)

Summary: (Part 2) Mind Training with Gojo Satoru had been beneficial to the both of you. You were given a mission to bake him sweets and in return of earning a 10/10 rating from the Great Teacher Gojo would result for a Shopping Spree treat from the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer alive. | Additional summary for this particular part: Satoru felt his untouchable mochi ice cream have been crammed down. Hence, which leads to his antagonizing belittling conversation further with Kiyotaka Ijichi being messed around by the white-haired sorcerer himself.

Warnings: Gojo Satoru himself. LMAO. Other than that, none?

Tell me if you want to be tagged whenever I publish chapters for 7th Dimension! Send an ask or message me!

A/N: Chapter 7 has six parts. (It's a lot. I know) This is probably one of the important chapters because this is where they build a much stable rapport. Also, I want chapter 7 to be long because of the fact that this book is entitled 7th Dimension. HEEHEE! *Hides inside my potato sack* Anyway, ENJOY THIS CHAPTER, everyone!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SUPER-DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED! IT GIVES ME MUCH MOTIVATION AND INSPO! SORRY IF THERE ARE LOTS OF TYPOS AND GRAMMAR ERRORS! I ain’t a professional writer! I’m just a potato-hoe! LMAO. 🤣

Words: 4k+

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. I only own the plot of this whole fanfic. But, not Jujutsu Kaisen's storyline and the characters themselves. I apologize for the typos or grammatical errors by the way! English isn't my first language so I'm so sorry in advance! Character development and personalities are based from how I want them to be here.

"Someone touched my mochi ice cream."

Satoru lifted his temple off the car's closed aperture. He'd lowly kvetched, disgruntled by the whole incident. He had this accurate intuition that his mochis---the one you personally and wholeheartedly made for him has been touched by another person. His hunches giving him a feeling that he was right. Well, he always have been.

The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer fell further in his seat, an outlandish sense of infuriation gripping him by the shoulders as if he was a child whose lolly has been stolen or a juvenile who was not given the chance to bond with his group of friends because his parents told him so.

It was that kind of displeasure that pulled a small frown to his face. He was entirely clueless, the sheer covetousness to have his homemade ice-cream mochis stay untouched all throughout the time being until he hadn't brought it back to his estate.

He just wanted all the mochi ice cream to himself.

His long legs was spread widely enough to permeate nearly half of the back seat of Ijichi's car. Gojo was leaning his temple alongside the window, his crossed arms tightening against his chest while he gawped at the urban scenery outside, watching cars pass by. Nonetheless, his thoughts were merely on the mochi ice cream that has been laid a finger on.

The situation would've been worse---an unfortunate fate and probably an adverse circumstance which acquired dire consequences if this person had actually taken a piece---no. He'd be lenient for one. In consideration of who's which, under definite circumstances over the categories or classification of people he knew. Howbeit, if this particular person had finished an entire tupperware of your homemade mochis then Satoru was not to blame for his splenetic outbursts and reprisal that followed suit.

The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer stowed away the twitching nerve that kept prodding the side of his lip, making it seem as if he was wearing a simper.

"Ah, seriously." he'd spoke sotto voce, heedlessly thinking out loud but not enough for you to notice. You also seemed to be caught in your own reverie, absentmindedly admiring the view out of the window with an elbow over the car's arm handle.

Nevertheless, it may seem like it to Satoru, but to you---your perspective had been different because your overall attention had been on him that he was paying no heed to how you were struggling to keep it sane together. Those thorough blinks through the window's reflection, making an effort to actually take a shine over Japan's urban landscape and not on Tokyo Jujutsu High's imposing Atlas. It dawned on you again, that fluttering rattles that danced along your chest when you both had to enter the car and make it seem like sharing the same air with him would be too compelling yet again.

Around the clock, life has rather been unfair since the moment you have been born.

You were already acting fine and have been spending an amount of satirizing retaliations here and there throughout the time he had held over your extended sleeves---his extended sleeves that were an absolute size in opposite to whenever he wore them---and tagged you behind him like a leash he held as if you were his puppy till you finally reached Ijichi's awaiting car.

Everything has been splendid, your mind were at a stable rate until Satoru had laughed over how you've accidentally and foolishly slammed your head over the rim of Ijichi's opened car door, in virtue of his unanticipated large hands that clasped over your shoulders, blaming the Jujutsu Sorcerer's exhilaration over being your tour guide around Tokyo. You'd happen to be skewered by the gooseflesh that unfurled from the split second he'd valiantly touch you.

Needless to say, he wasn't beyond apologetic over that through verbal communication. Satoru had to emit a hearty chuckle once he'd went in after you. Though, the following gestures he'd given was in consequence to how you were behaving right now. Gojo just had to settle those tough, large, gritty palm of his over your head---the part where he'd accidentally been at fault over the gob that begun to swell, mussing your hair as a mean to lessen the soreness and discomfort.

A bewitchery conjuration that had forthwith effects because the aches and pains averted to the frizzles popping those bubbles that surrounded your heart.

Hence, the struggle was real for the most part because the man was determined over bugging you every second of the day he was around. He was making the impression of wanting to have your attention on him at all cost and probably wanted you to be in a tough tussle between your sanity and jurisdictions.

This was why you were seated a little bit too far from him. Moreover, he was also positioned---those damned legs of his outspread for you to give a wide berth to.

"Tiny-Chan," Gojo has given you the side eye from his own side of the window, eyeing your over his sunglasses with a purse of his lip. The latter noticing how you were scooted farthest away from him as if he had some sort of a contagious disease---yeah, he probably did because you couldn't seem to bring your restless jitters and mind into a halt.

"---You've been quiet."

He did not need to know you were also holding a breath. All the while, listening to his whispers when he was mumbling over those theories of his that his mochis had been 'touched'.

How did he even knew when he wasn't even there to begin with? was he just formulating a wild guess or was he just speculating random occurrences?

"You goin' through some sort of flashback again?" he enthusiastically inquired before a hum neighbored afterwards, bearing in mind that he was looking; taking a gander beside, "---Hm. Your nose isn't bleeding, though."

Satoru glanced over the thumb that you've began to purposelessly gnaw since the time you've entered Ijichi's car and scooted rather as if he was not the person you had fed a mochi to his mouth---as pleasant as that sounded, it had given him a hoot over the standpoint he had prior to that gestures.

Although, he knew it was just in a sense of nothing and that his six eyes were to blame---the weighty abilities riveted to an amount where it can be too much to handle at certain times.

Well, that was what he believed.

"It must've been your students or another one of your co-workers, I told you the leftover batches were for the ones who want it. I'm giving it to them." you've blatantly grumbled, not before breathing calmly through your nose as you shifted on your seat, still looking through the vast townscape of Tokyo which was now closing in.

Satoru had veered off on his side of the car, shifting his angle and turning his head to provide you his consummate attention. He disliked how you were kept to your own solitude and pondered over things he could not know of. The white-haired sorcerer had a yen for your frank retaliations, awkward references from your world that only you could fathom---the sanguine sarcasms even though you were wrong at all times.

"No. They're mine. I've already had them patented. You're the one who scribbled them for me---Gojo's untouchable ice cream mochis. It isn't difficult to understand."

The car was as spacious as to having the possibility of three to four people who could claim a space from the back seat. Nonetheless, Satoru plonked oneself as if he wanted to take at least two to three people's spaces. Was it a way to annoy you because of how it seemed like you were treating him as if he had some sort of illness or was he just built different?

Gojo shifted further, turning in an angle to raise an arm and kept it resting behind the car's head cushions. His own brawny fingers ceasing a thumb distance over your ear as he finally crossed his leg over the other. Albeit, he was now totally facing you. The way he strummed his digits over the cushions raised such awareness that you've felt your breath hitch for the sudden, new reposition.

You had to at least clear your throat better before responding back to him, eyes still focused on the window outside and none being given to the Jujutsu Sorcerer, "But, you've had me write it out. Obviously, they won't get to understand a thing unless one of them can read the roman alphabet."

The latter cocked his head to the side, pondering over the idea for a nanosecond, humming another before he admitted his thoughts out loud with a nod to himself, "But if my students ate them, I'll be lenient to be honest." his gaze were now averted to the ceiling, thoroughly giving it a second of thought before his blunt, nonchalance caught the best of his tongue, "---If it's Shoko, a piece wouldn't hurt then. Though, I doubt because that woman prefers alcohol over sweets. If it's Principal Yaga, he would instantly know they're mine. Nitta---oh, I have no idea if she does know, though. She probably doesn't."

Satoru had to take a pause for a more dramatic effect with malice aforethought as he had given the assistant director who was actually mentally sweating from the possibility that his name was bound to be said next because he had always been a person who would take other's name into account because of his erratic way of analyzing situations, "But, if it's Ijichi then, Unlimited Void."

The Strongest jujutsu Sorcerer had to audibly snap his fingers without even looking his way, igniting a sharp, perceptible tweet from a strung out Kiyotaka Ijichi who was driving with sweat that pooled around his forehead. You had to momentarily take your view away from the panorama outside from the sudden reaction you've heard from him because of how bizarre it sounded coming from him. Although, you've never understood what the assistant director uttered next until it has been timely translated over his phone that was giving you the welfare of having his words translated for you, Gojo's immediate response made it sound like Ijichi has chosen an answer that benefited Satoru's jesting heckles.

"I-I would pretty much prefer to be slapped on the face instead, Gojo-San."

"Good answer. I knew you would say that." He'd given Ijichi a big thumbs up from behind the seat, stirring more of his apprehension when Ijichi felt Satoru's hand just a hand away from behind him. The white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer went on with his flippant jibes, eyeing him from the car's rearview mirror, pulling more chains over his overwrought state as Ijichi gripped upon the stirring wheel a lot tighter than he ever did, "---But, what do you even take me for to do that, Ijichi."

Being one who was entirely accustomed to having the anxiety; being het up over certain things, you've scanned the assistant director's body gestures and verbal responses. He made it seem like he was jumpy over the fact of the matter that he somehow gotten a taste of his ice cream mochis without Satoru knowing because the assistant director had stumbled upon the kitchen by chance before Gojo even arrived.

What even was Unlimited Void that made Ijichi choose the option of being slapped rather than taking whatever kind of void that Gojo was pertaining to?

"Satoru," you've eventually called him out of his teasing, not wanting for the car to just crash over whatever obstacle would be possible for collision. One car accident was enough, you did not want to teleport in another dimension where monsters existed in a medieval world---you'd rather choose the urban one which had cursed-spirits and had a particular teacher who had all the likelihood to transport you back to where you came from, "---I can just make more, you don't have to be this---"

Having your defenses down for once, thanks to Ijichi's agitation over Gojo's interminable satirizing boffolas, Gojo had adjusted his position around the car. Keen enough for the seat to bounce when he'd avidly relocated closer, his folded knee touching your thigh when the latter had his body facing you. His thorough heed over the harum-scarum proposal that left your mouth. Satoru's face brightened, coaxing his pearly whites to dazzle as the corner of his eyes wrinkled in delight. Both of his palm stuck together when he'd lean his head to the side, discerning his proclivity for giving people an adjacent amount of space over their faces as he closely kept a beady eye on you.

"Hah! It's a success then. This plan---I knew it would work. I was just waiting for you to say that, Tiny-Chan. More home made sweets it is!"

You've tore your eyes from Satoru's triumphant expressions. Your mouth keeping a tight thin line as you've averted to regard Ijichi from the rearview mirror who seemed to have been scrutinizing your reactions as well. The assistant director was quick to focus back upon driving, concealing his sift with a nimble attempt of arranging his eyeglasses over his nose bridge.

You've taken it as a way to enshroud his febrile presentiments. Even so, it was actually Ijichi trying to figure out who you exactly are. After the talk that they had back with Shoko, the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer disclosed no other than the fact that you were a woman he would tend to under secretive circumstances. Such a prestigious privilege nippily granted for a non-sorcerer who was valueless to the eyes of everyone other than Gojo whose responses were entirely circumvent and casual for anyone to comprehend.

The Strongest---a person whom was detrimental and put upon the pedestal since the day he was born, the representation could either be a gnarly or serendipitous chance of the heavens giving you a second life to live upon earth.

Were you born under a lucky star or behind the eight ball?

Every single person who'd seen you and Gojo together wondered and struggled to keep a hold of any information that was of to be leaked or discovered because even through deep investigation; you were innominate no matter the further they've dived into. That being the case, Satoru stressed on the idiosyncratic providence of your existence on his hands, making it seem like this was his mission; like you were laid upon his undertaking.

---and what he says, goes. Nobody did want to intervene with him anyway unless it was the Higher Ups.

Ijichi squinted harder through his eyeglasses as he silently drove along the road. In regards to categorizing you as Satoru's occasional dalliances with women, a sporadic chance during the present course of time on grounds of being swarmed and immersed in whatever issues sprung in the society of Jujutsu nowadays unlike the time he had when he was younger---it was certainly ticked out of the list because Gojo surely was not the type to hide his flings around the school and even get to the point of associating them in it.

Howbeit, the assistant director knew it was inevitable that there would be no scuttlebutts. The principal was bound to know about this soon if you were wandering around Tokyo Jujutsu High freely like a child on a field trip and had no idea over who everyone was aside from knowing them about parts that seemed normal for a non-sorcerer.

"You're making Ijichi more nervous and uncomfortable with all your belittling conversations with him."

Perhaps, your cluelessness and peculiar existence could be worthwhile from how vigilant you were over his gestures and feelings.

"Eh, He's already used to it." Gojo nonchalantly deadpanned, crossing his arms against his chest as he briefly slanted his head over the cushions, his focal point still on you and never knowing what ran inside his head as he retained his idle rubbernecking, heedless of how he was aimlessly giving you the half-lidded eyes like he had something in his mind that was not ought to tell.

"I-I actually ate a piece of her ice cream mochi and it tasted amazing," Ijichi suddenly blurted out loud with a stammer, falling further in the driver seat when Satoru hastily lifted his head, At high-speed, he shifted his attention at him with a surprised intonation of disbelief.

"Really?"

You've strived to keep a straight face and have been boring holes upon Ijichi over the rearview mirror. His abrupt admission of honesty making you sigh out loud because you were actually trying to aid to his defense and just take Gojo's ridicules to your own spotlight so he wouldn't suffer from his nonsense squibbing during the whole ride.

"I actually forgot to compliment you for it, Tiny-San?" Ijichi sounded skeptical for the moniker he ended up using, the corner of his eyes turning into creases. He was genuine, an authentic smile which supported his divulgence over your cooking. It gradually came into terms for him that in one way or another, you were guaranteed to encounter him from time to time.

"Ijichi,"

The way that Satoru mentioned his name had been a mixture of sangfroid and an obscured chaff. Nonetheless, the assistant director recognized it as a harmless berate from the latter's perspective because of the low-adverb that meshed with his quips, "---It's Eigo-San or Y/N-San. Your choice." a pause. Ijichi could perceive how Gojo was giving him a deprecating glint of his eyes---one that has always kept him on edge whenever Satoru had his blindfolds off when he wanted. Those eyes that were outright empyreal but also gave people the potentiality of cowering before him like he was expectant of tyrannizing everyone who went his way.

The imprudent action kept the Jujutsu Sorcerer unaware that he kept Ijichi hushed to the side.

"The students call her Eigo-San, much to Yuji's own epithet." he blatantly added as a matter of fact, a straightforward declaration of a statement followed suit, "---No one's allowed to use the name Tiny-Chan or Tiny-San other than me. Remember that."

Oh, poor Ijichi. You were speechless when he began to tightly shut his lip over that. The poor guy was just dear enough to offer his feedback, though it has already been late and his impulsive choice for choosing such a wrong time had retaliated back like a boomerang.

"They can call me whatever they want unless it's actually offending." you've firmly admonished Gojo who was pursing his lip back to you with a squint of his eyes, the insouciance dancing through the glints as he was humming a tune inside his head, still poking fun on Ijichi's worriment.

"Would you even understand if it's offending already when you actually have no idea to what they say at all?" Satoru opines with characteristic trenchancy, pursing his lip here and there like a gesture which says that he was jeering at your sudden lambasting.

You've fought the urge to concur with his sarcastic sagacity. It was half true because he was the only one---though, not in an obligated matter to translate or interpret the words of his denizens for you to fathom,  "But, are you always this rude to him?"

"Come on, he's been accustomed to my habits already. Right, Ijichi?" Satoru stressed on, dragging the end of his words with a playful slur.

"Also, IJICHI---" You've somehow gotten to get in between the Jujutsu Sorcerer's question upon emphasizing and calling out the assistant director's name like a chastise that was ready to be appointed. It was a loud call that you were heedless of. You were in thorough incredulity that he hadn't got the gist that you were widening your eyes and not blinking through your point of view, thinking he got the idea that you were beginning to sacrifice your own collywobbles regardless of how Gojo kept your heart at bay.

Ijichi had been oblivious to that as his focal point was on Gojo's veiled light admonishing.

You and Satoru were eyeing him from the rearview mirror.

"H-Hai! Hai, Eigo-San---Gojo-San!" Ijichi went stiff, exclaiming his responses with a thorough stumbling of his words when he'd taken a glimpse of you both who scrutinized him from behind.

The assistant director was in another fit of nerves, constantly glancing through the mirror.

Satoru was grinning from ear to ear upon the exaggerated acknowledgement. Ijichi's passengers who seemed to be trying to gain his attention apart from keeping his eyes on the road, "See! Now, you made him anxious enough even by starting a conversation with me as well." he'd felt you glaring from the side, making him hum as if he was not to blame.

"I thought you were going on with the flow, Ijichi. I understood your phone translator a lot. I was speaking to you through my eyes. Can't you see?" you've pointed to your face with your forefinger, expressing how you were trying to give him the non-verbal comprehension that you were trying to take his side.

Ijichi's features seem to be like he wanted everything to be over with. He seemed to be dejected from how his eyes loomed over upon the steering wheel as he shifted on the drivers seat, keeping his mouth in a tight zip lock until the moment you've eventually gave an amiable beam through the mirrors, appreciating his evaluation unlike Satoru who were not one to give approbation through an honest-to-goodness set of locutions.

"But, thank you though. You're thoughtful and sweet."

Or Gojo had just been messing around with you when you were dying to know his actual assessments over your delicious baking.

"When did he actually?" he'd minimally moved his head, giving you the side-eye as he was thoroughly intrigued.

"He had somehow stumbled upon the kitchen in the right time." you've given Ijichi another smile to lessen his worries. The assistant director acknowledged your gratefulness through a firm bow of his head and gave a tight lipped smile, slowly but surely having his own apprehension relieved from the purposive plan of diversion.

Yet, it begun again as Ijichi was filled to the height of his own languor, the lassitude building up more than it ever could when Satoru began to held onto his chest dramatically like he had been shot to the heart, "Ah. The audacity! Here I thought, I have been the first!"

"Ijichi." Gojo has been on the double when he leaned over behind the driver seat, peeking alongside the face of the assistant director as the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer was thoroughly inane to antagonize him further, bringing his goodly, staunch hand to his side of his face as if he prepared to give him a thwack. Though, in all honesty, he was just feigning the act and messing around, "---A slap from me wouldn't hurt. I guess,"

You've heard Kiyotaka emit another discernable shriek from Gojo's narks which made you exhale a long sigh that has been perceptible to both men. Without even uttering a word, you've pulled the menace from the hem of his extravagant leather jacket, exerting at least a prominent amount of effort into heaving a hundred and ninety centimeter man back to where he was seated which has been nearly beside you.

Gojo was melodramatic as he sprawled back, admitting to not give you space on the back seat of the car. His own legs slouched while it was cloth to cloth with you, making you grumble to your own frustrations and fluster because of the cramped leeway he was intentionally taking up.

"Ah, what a bore! You're no fun!"

He'd exclaimed, a smug smile tugging the ends of his lips from how you began to avoid his gazes again because of how he made it obvious that he was giving you his solid attention. The forged empyrean that was troublesome enough to watch you closely from your side as he deeply chuckle. Those subtle flusters of yours spreading like wildfire which has been bestowing upon Gojo Satoru's mushroomed condescension, making him slump further along the seat cushions as he scooted closer, terrorizing more of your lucidity and drafted to keep your ticker around the bend.

Enjoy the fluffy chapters and the filler ones as well while it lasts! Again, REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER-DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED! Thank you! <3