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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

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7th Dimension (Chapter 7.6)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 7.5

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) (Chapter 8.3 has been posted already in Wattpad! I just realize how FAR ahead I am in Wattpad now. I’M SORRY! Readers have just been more interactive there rather than in Tumblr. Heehee.)

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 7) 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 chapter: Satoru hadn't been ignorant over the sheer excitement you had for Tokyo's arcade establishments which is why he had pulled you through a trap that expected people to receive entertainment over what is being offered. Deliberately ignoring the idea that he was thoroughly late over the unexpected meeting that Ijichi have informed him for. Perhaps, it wasn't just you enjoying the arcade games after all.

Warnings: The word shit and fuck. Gojo being a show-off. Juvenile bullies around. Gojo being Gojo. Just a brief mention of the word 'blood'.

A/N: My head went kaput upon editing this chapter. Been reading dictionaries left and right. 🤣 I just realized how many parts this has been now and there's still 2 more before we proceed to chapter 8. Hehehe. My Mahito fem cosplay arrived btw and the skirt doesn't fit me (the zipper just goes halfway cause it ain't a stretchable fabric) which makes it appear sexy because I need to pull it further up and I'm not used to how extremely short it is now---*sighs* anyway...

FEEDBACKS HELP A LOT FOR A WRITER. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MAKE OUR HEART HAPPY AND SQUEAL, ISTG. 💙

7th Dimension Taglist: @dailystsg

SORRY IF THERE ARE LOTS OF TYPOS AND GRAMMAR ERRORS IN EVERY CHAPTER I WRITE. I ain't a professional writer! I'm just a potato-hoe! LMAO.

Words: 5.7k+ (It's quite long. I'm sorryyyyy)

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits, also those posted are not mine especially the GIF's. (I dunno how to make GIF's 😭) I only own the plot of 7th Dimension. 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 my understanding and how I want them to be for the sake of the story.

SATORU AND HIS OVERFLOWING ARROGANCE TOWARDS EVERYTHING were not the perfect match nor was he advisable to be present around a place that had people vying for who was better or best. This was basically a hidey-hole driven to call forth for those who were competitive in the aspects of who was superior and who was just a novice towards the games being offered within the premises where a conglomeration of people ranging from babies till the oldies were of present.

The strongest jujutsu sorcerer veiled on his innocence over being caught, he was insincere and faked that he had clean-hands upon his first step when you first entered the establishment as you demanded for him to act like an average man.

How old was Satoru anyway?

The thought floated inside your mind when you were giving him the meanest glare that was patent over showing your intense criticism over his actions when you both started to have the entertainment that everybody aimed to have inside an arcade.

It was expectant of the guy to inevitably let nature take its place for his undeniable cocksure prodigy that he sees himself to be.

Satoru disliked to be defeated. He abhorred the idea of losing especially if it were in a battle with cursed users or cursed spirits because he, himself believed and trusted that him alone deserved reverence for what he has achieved and inherited; for his refine abilities that he had brought to perfection through time and star-crossed experiences.

You knew nothing of what he was capable of because you've never seen, felt nor experienced them all in reality. Yet, you anticipated he held such a prohibitive potential through that tiny flashback you had back in the plane.

You couldn't put a finger to everything about it yet. The rum memories currently irrelevant, forbidding you to narrate further and be satisfied over the entire anamnesis because you couldn't get a hold onto the entire case that those sketches you had for Satoru's world.

Back to the topic at hand and for what was happening at the present time, you were hopeful over those coarse chiding that has sailed and had been promised before the arcade games started which Gojo considered to have taken into mind. You held onto that sham promise he obviously brushed off the moment his eyes lit up like a juvenile that went giddy and exuberant to try the new stuffs around an arcade, conveying the impression that it has been a long time he hasn't entered the arcade since whatever timeline he shut himself off from the establishment.

"I knew you were bound to cheat in this place." you've tightly squinted your eyes back at him, settling on your predictions that he had used at least an ounce of whatever techniques he knew of in the most minimal account that weren't gaudy to the eyes of perceptive people, conspicuous enough for others to regard over.

Satoru acted as if he was avoiding your eyes and looked away, intent on scratching the side of his well-defined jaw in attempt to cover the face of a child who was at fault that seemed to have been liable by his mother.

"---I also told you to act normal, Satoru. You didn't seem to be acting normal since the moment we've stepped foot within this arcade."

Satoru emitted a sound of disapproval, a playful one that sounded more of a hum to you, "Oi," he started, those fingers of his reaching behind his fixated undercut and along his loosened white, fluffy hair that was curtained down because his blindfolds were off, "---I haven't even activated any of my techniques since the moment we've stepped foot in this arcade. Why would I even? What makes you think I did?" the white-haired cyclops---who was currently not wearing the clothing around his eyes that were always swathed with a distinctive coal-black bandage---quoted your words with a subtle roll of his heavenly blues that hindered beneath his Stygian sunglasses.

He was lying. Unfortunately. It was obvious when he began to see the highest score that flickered on the small screen that was displayed on the side of the basketball ring. You've heard him huff to himself, murmuring like a bee beneath his breath; zizzing from left to right over how low and weak this person was to accumulate such a truncated level score but was considered and condemned to be the highest for the public.

The simple exhibit of those average number, a cracker-barrel score which has fueled a lot of his competitive side, especially when a group of juveniles; a mixture of men and flustering women who accidentally wandered behind and obviously noticed Satoru's outstanding presence that would be caught and felt meters away---how he had already accumulated a triple digit score in under less than a minute which had you whispering and poking him on the side over how he promised to act like an ordinary man.

He hardly ever tried from the start.

The conceited gent had also been hearing a lot of compliments over his striking features. A lot from women and even from male high-schoolers who were at admiration for his ceaseless stamina and will to overlap the system's overall high score. Satoru was caught grinning as you stood on the side, a grimace permanent when the machine had informed for a very short time-out that had been the third time already. The machine hastily reaching the highest phase of a score that wasn't bound to be done by any other mainstream living soul could.

His competitive nature didn't help when by-passers had to ogle over Satoru and gawk through the score he was trying to continuously exceed on. The whispers of gibberish compliments---you've assumed it was---when he oddly had and intentionally took a second to tug off his sunglasses and brush his hefty fingers through his luscious white hair, momentarily peering down and cordially giving you the brightest and engaging smile that has obviously been the opposite of what expression you held out for him.

The handsome devil just knew damn well he was thoroughly irresistible when he had his sunglasses off. Satoru gave you a cheeky wink, chuckling to himself when you were caught off guard to it and went breathless over his sudden gesture. Those who surrounded you both encompassed of hearing women squeal in whispers and men grumble over how it was possible for a guy like him to exist.

You were constantly being on the wheel of cursing Satoru's name in vain as you bit the tip of your tongue, resisting the urge to scream and squeal for his transfixing quiddity.

He had your toes sweaty and fidgety, body stiff for the hundredth time today especially when you'd felt his forefinger and thumb reach out for your chin. Lightly pinching them in between his to coax you out of your reverie when he'd placed his sunglasses back and went on with his game, looking utterly determined to probably ruin the game for a middle-of-the-road guy to achieve.

Satoru probably knew you went as stiff as a cardboard box when he'd given you a shameless wink and that benign physical touch to the chin which were for those fangirls who were screeching out behind for him.

You've simply had been the poor bait and support through his growing self-image.

Though, you entirely had no idea that those women were utmost jealous over the fact that he seemed to be showing off for you. Others seemingly having the idea that you were also a dear to him. Through their viewpoints, you were the luckiest woman alive for them; the feline who was blessed with good luck. One that has been heaven-sent. They've wanted to know what you ever did in the past to even had the possibility to meet Satoru.

"You've had accumulated the maximum points that the basketball ring could ever give. Basically, you've topped off the last man who had the highest score, tripling the digits like you weren't even weary enough to stop." you've grumbled in disdain, remembering how the machine reacted judiciously to his unyielding determination and the idea that he did not want to lose over anything.

"Can't help it that I'm the best?" he talked big, blinded by the amount of attention he had received from you and from anyone else. "---Besides, I could go on and on if the ring hadn't blasted off its alarm. It's basically child's play to me, Tiny-Chan."

You were basically complaining alongside when the machine began applauding and cheering for such an incredible high score from Satoru, reaching its limit. The group of juveniles had their mouth ajar when he did so in such a small amount of time and he seemed to be reveling his superiority over them.

"The alarm rang so loud because that was the maximum high score that it could give. It was already the game's standard extremity," you've given him a grouch, the bleats seeming to rise through the image of your expressions because of his mulish need to show-off and be noticed by everyone.

The overflowing tickets he accumulated were enveloping your neck. Such a trophy that he coaxed you to take part in to probably feed his ego as he embellished them around you, laughing his ass off when the tickets filled your neck as he made it a mandatory action to surround yourself with it.

"Psh. Standard. Mind you not that my level of standard exceeds more than that. So much more and you--- Tiny-Chan probably aren't aware of the exemplars of my strength yet." was the only nonchalant answer you've received from him as he gave an insouciant shrug. The both of you were meters away from the claimable prizes, along the rows of people who went on upon gawping at the spotlight that Satoru had always brought himself in. It goes without saying that whenever he was with you, limelight would always be in the way, grabbing unsought publicity when this Jujutsu Sorcerer you were with was exceptionally picturesque on the outer shell without his blindfolds on.

Forsooth, the raucous and chaotic character he honed and displayed catches everyone's ear in all types of ages to which he had obviously cared less.

"---Really hard to please those who haven't seen the best of the best, huh?" Satoru had to drastically adjust his height to bend down a waggish whisper to your ear. The breath of summer that he provided gliding pass the skin just above your ears, turning hypersensitive when he did so. Those fleeting butterflies rousing sprightly from such contact, accepting it as off-putting once those buckeyes turned into a frenzy.

You couldn't help but tighten your fists along your side from his offhand talking because in the back of your intuitive notions. Somehow, it tightly grasped onto the outlandish beliefs that everything he says are deeply verifiable.

Speculation one has been specified over the idea that he was spouting and acting through his baloneys of deceptions; one that he had been deliberately contradicting your hypothesis over him. First being the basketball game in which he had extraordinarily exceeded from and second was an extempore accident with a group of high-school 'bullies' that you highly believed to be intentional. He'd been mundane over buttering you up on the theory that they were kids who had scourged an unimpeachable student around a corner that you haven't even seen nor noticed.

"Tiny-Chan! You've been missing the shots a lot! How can you miss that? I knew it! Having such a tiny height can hinder towards functioning well!" He poked borax on your failures with an audible click of his tongue, faking his disapproval. You were both standing right in front of a shooting game, with Satoru being your co-op and obviously the player who was advancing a lot in the game in which you had been tenacious enough to put forward that he should bide one's time for you.

It was evident that he wouldn't listen though because he'd sportively whined that there was no time for laggards like you.

Satoru's screen was going through an ongoing screenplay where it wasn't meant to be paused nor forwarded. In some way, his gaze was intent. But, you never noticed as you were thoroughly concentrated and focused on the game at hand.

The totality of his heed was all on you. Though, despite of having the entirety of his attention. It couldn't help the fact that his six-eyes which he had obviously lived with since the moment he was born, Satoru have seen a bunch a younger juveniles. Attack dogs. One of which could be considered as bullies since that brief moment he'd taken his sunglasses off in the middle of showing off during the basketball game, knowing damn well that they were tormenting a poor, scrawny teenager along the corner.

These bunch of bullies had become aware of Satoru's presence since the moment he was around. With one of them having the terrible and atrocious idea of a worthless bet where it includes stealing the wallet that rested on Satoru's back pocket. Unsecured, exposed and half way out for anyone to just snatch onto.

The kind of hazard that thieves loved to catch sight of where it seemed like he was too oblivious of people and their bad habit to purloin.

Though, one will be considered as an absolute dunce and an utter imbecile to even think of stealing from Gojo Satoru. He was considered untouchable after all by everyone unless he would consider turning off his abilities to people whom he wanted to have physical contact with. Fortunately, it was only those whom he trusted wholeheartedly and those whom he was comfortable to be around with.

He was the sacrosanct of the entirety of Jujutsu; the blessed after all.

"It's just that you suck at helping! Where even is it?!" your eyes went large like saucers, skimming through the screen to where the hostile party has been and finding where he was appointing to until you've felt his body shift from your side. His compelling proximity nearing closer as you've felt him bend down to your height, his large hand freely clasping on your shoulder. Warm enough to feel your heart being cuddled through the comfort you were now gradually being accustomed to. Those tiny frets turning into odd solace that felt good for the heart just like how people perceived as Red Wine to be when taken in moderation.

"There! It's just right in front of you---Ah! and you even had the audacity to tell me I'm the blind one here?" Satoru aimlessly pointed his toy-gun across the screen, unconsciously taking a good look through your immersed features before he even came to realize. Though, despite how he looked strangely distracted enough, the jujutsu sorcerer knew those bullies were nearing in from behind, trying to intentionally pass by behind to glom for his wallet.

"I'M NOT BLIND! I CAN SEE WELL! You're just not being entirely helpful and supportive! I wonder why you've picked co-op in the first place when you aren't even being cooperative at all!" you've taken a loud bleat, pulling a tight grimace and utterly antagonized by the game because Satoru just had to choose the hardest mode out of all when you wanted it to just be in normal mode.

He grinned beside you, just by hearing those reactions he was gradually and slowly having a soft spot for, the incident that was about to happen eventually in a jiffy had planted screws upon his head. His quips never failing to be recalled as his mouth did not abide the possibility of it being hushed, "Really, now? Aren't I the one telling you where your enemies are despite that I'm also in the middle of playing my game---No, no. You go to the right---Oi, That was a left!----Yep. You missed again. I can't believe this. Hahaha!"

His dictates of amusement blossomed into an enormous belly laugh. His peal of laughter that was euphonious as it reached your ears and bestrewn with rose and Cherry Blossom petals upon your soul. One that have been in the spirits of it being in the bottom of his heart, reaching a section of yours that were reticent to whisper how this precious moment was an artless, cherished prize worth to be remembered. A valuable memory that was worth to be recollected over and over again.

Such cachinnation that had given Satoru's sides an ache worth for. A window of opportunity that slithered its way out of the dismal chasm that grew within him since everything went downhill in the past. The unconventional fathoms that you had of him being crestfallen for whatever this particular sentiments you've had from the time you've first seen the guy claimed the inkling that you hadn't been forthright with as these were thoughts ought to be hushed.

"I, Satoru Gojo---therefore, conclude that you just have no sense of directions even back at that time on Hatagaya," he sent a gift of splendid, teasing repartees before adding another as the juveniles were now closing in, "---Such a blind, blind, Tiny-Chan. Heh."

The lawbreaker youths were in for a verbal and physical admonishing from Gojo today in defiance of the merriment that bubbled you both.

It was a great, stupid decision that these high-schoolers thought off, blinded by the bountiful amount of cash and cards; luxury credit cards that held no upper limit of expenses that Satoru kept inside his billfolds.

The one who had flaxen hair was in an ear-splitting guffaw, a knowing look in his eyes that tells his friends that it would be easy-peasy to steal from Gojo as he appeared to be oblivious for who he actually is, mainly for the reason that he had given them the impression that Satoru was part of the silk-stocking crowd, a spoon-fed skirt-chaser and entirely a narcissistic freak. As much as they described him to be behind his back when they've watched the whole commotion upon his good gloat of glory. This juvenile had no idea what was in for him as he took his distraction for you as an opportunity meant to be taken.

They've gotten to the point of even describing you in the least respectful way as well, deeming you with Satoru as one of his dalliances who had the obligation and chance to be pampered by his wealth and one-day span of courtesy.

"What a tiny, ambitious bitch." One of his friends whispered to the one who was to be meant stealing for Satoru, it sounded a little too loud to be honest. This friend was also the one who began the bet. The words were near enough to be heard, they've acted as if they were out of earshot for their definition of you. Either that, or Satoru had just been attentive that it went to the point that he was heedful over the whole irreverence for your presence.

The more they've neared in the perimeters of Satoru; the more did the strongest jujutsu sorcerer's grin grew larger like a Cheshire cat. His focal point still on you regardless that he knew and noted people who were always within range. An interminable regular measures he lived in for his whole life as condemned to be the strongest. Satoru Gojo always had to be cautious and wary of everyone.

Once the Juvenile had been an arm's reach away from Gojo and without dilly-dallying further, he had just hastily whisked his own hand out of his pockets in anticipation of taking his wallet from behind like an accustomed habit that this youngster had always been doing since then.

Which has been a futile idea from the start. Fruitless. Dumb. An embarrassing debacle that was worth the hooting.

His hand and reality got the best of him because it seemed like time-ceased for the contradictory team as it has been to Satoru for space itself. He had triggered a scaled-down form of his technique, one considered to be humanely acceptable for mankind. As much as what his senses tried to persist him to think of. The juvenile has been halted through his actions that was terminated within the infinity that has been set between them.

Who in the right mind could've thought that activating the littlest amount of his ability against a whippersnapper was acceptable to the side of normality for human beings who had no idea for who and what they do for their day-to-day lives as a Jujutsu Sorcerer?

The latter couldn't move his own hand nor could he retract away regardless how he was desperately wanting to. Presumably, it was because of the dread that paled his face, draining out of its blood.

The infinity that existed between them both slowed at a pace before it could even touch Satoru's clothing, leaving at least a hand length of barricade betwixt him and the teenager. His entire friends seeing the whole interaction like it was out of a fairytale that left them staggered and bowling over the encounter. They were completely unable to move because of how bewildered and hang over from seeing that their friend could not move an inch, an eldritch experience that they have come across to for the very first time they have existed and birthed out from their mother's womb.

"What the actual fuck," the juvenile breathed under his breath, becoming panic-stricken when Satoru's hoots gradually started turning into a low chuckle with whatever you were complaining at over the game, like his felicity that he spend time with you was beyond reproach as if he wasn't doing anything suspicious behind your back.

His beam for you evolved into a mischievous grin when the hand he clasped on your shoulder left your skin, knowing how close and how tall the juvenile was even without looking behind. He was at least a foot shorter compared to him. He'd briefly given his friends an intimidating side-eye as Satoru was quick to react upon this reckless urge. His friends never catching it off-guard as they've laid hold upon his non-verbal reckoning. Gojo acted upon his own impish impulse and gave the bully an intentional and minimal thwack to his face using his elbow.

In which he had clarified for his senses that it was humanely acceptable yet again. He believed it so.

It was only the most minimal amount of strength, yet it was enough for the juveniles to reflect upon their actions. He evaluated it to be compassionately lenient as the juvenile had been socked across the face, making it look accidental as he heard his strident moan of complains and outcries when he'd taken at least meters upon stumbling back, surprised from the basic manner of whacking had his nose hitting upon the Hockey table that rested behind you and Satoru.

Such a simple and smooth strike that did such damage to his face.

"Ah!" Satoru played through his simulated surprise, minimally turning his heels, giving the juvenile a once over as the white-haired jujutsu sorcerer insincerely crowed. Their interactivities distracting you from playing as your heed led you into lifting your head from the side, reading Satoru's expressions as he goaded on, briefly giving the bully's friends a once over who looked entirely flabbergasted and frightened over the interaction.

"You've got grabby hands, kid." He cocked his head to the side, his lackadaisical mood taking over as he had given a pause before Satoru went on, getting a load over the faces of whom his blight friends were in the most apathetic response he could ever spout, his scrutiny blankly enigmatic to interpret for a sporadic moment you've only seen and heard from him today, "---and a shitty amount of worthless people you call, friends. Hm. You're in dire need for a change."

They've technically ran the hills after that, never looking back at Satoru.

"You've also intentionally hit a teenager, making him bleed his nose out."

You've implored against his unreasonable thinking caps. The lengthy amount of people who'd began to wedge in an anomalous coincidence fathoming you into thinking that it has got to do with Satoru's presence. Principally being on the opinions and wearing the shoes of those high-schoolers that began to grow in lines who were constantly purring their fazed dogma upon the white-haired sorcerer's allure and magnetism that pleases most of the youngsters---basically, everyone as you've had your first-hand experience with it. Though, Satoru did not show signs for any protests along the outlook of being marked as tardy towards the meeting at hand that has been informed by Ijichi. He never bothered to look at his watch, not risking you into thinking that he was actually and terribly late.

Not that it matters anyway. They've expected it from now on and had been anticipating his unpunctuality.

"He tripped off a wire, okay? Uh---he tripped off the wire then hit his nose on the Hockey table. That's it. Nothing serious." he nasally prevailed on, pursing his lip as he moved another step forward with you.

Seizing through the miniscule second of his bluffing blameless words, you've caught onto mischief when he'd intentionally looked away, locating a two to three year old child being held by the hand of his mother just right in front of you both. Gojo had given him one of his goofy faces in hopes of entertaining him and steering clear of your observance for the whole issue a while ago. However, the results had been intolerable because he had just scared the heck out of the child, making him wail and hide behind his mother's leg which has churned a whistle from him.

He'd avoided the mother's eyes when she began to take futile glimpses upon her back and not once did she thought Satoru was to be blamed.

Satoru was never one to turn his back on your scrutinizing gazes. Within the time shared with him, you've taken heed over his constant desideratum of your riveting on him as it goes the same for yours.

He'd made you comprehend that he was not one to shun away from it because he ought you to do the opposite, hanging onto those flustered perceptions he had been catching on and on through out today.

"Nothing serious?" you debated back, repeating the words he said in a skeptical query, "---You've actually elbowed him! You've even scared his friends off somehow."

Satoru made it obvious how he took the accident nonchalantly and began to casually elucidate further, explaining in a manner that got everyone he knew of that were always left complaining because he never seem to want and be productive over expounding his explanations well enough unless it was about Jujutsu. Above all, the best explications that he always had was about his abilities and techniques.

Even so, He'd began to explain his perceptions that he noticed during being around the confines within the arcade, offhandedly elaborating even the tiniest ones, "First off, they were bullies. They were bullying a stiff, youngster around a corner who looked like Yuji. But, a younger and an absolute feeble version of him." he shrugged to himself. Both hands inside his pockets, pausing in between his sentence and changing how it sounded inside his head.

Typically, everyone would've taken the insolent version of the notion from Satoru. Most of who were used to his cursory blathers and satirizes constantly received what he wanted to actually mean. No matter how blatant it sounded. Having said that, he was left speculating on the baffling choice of words that left his mouth, excluding the exact crass description that those juveniles had for you, debarring how they've called you an ambitious bitch.

"Called you Tiny when they've passed by too." pause. "---They also had a terrible habit of pick-pocketing,"

You've given him a sigh and a simple squint of your eyes, not thoroughly giving in to his reasons whether it was true or had just been a menace plan he abruptly decided to create, "But, you also call me, Tiny..."

"Are you not?" he teased in a sing-song voice, "---It's because you are tiny, Tiny-Chan. You're entirely pocket-sized. It's different when I say it."

The way your eyes turned into utmost slits like a coin bank that has been neglected over its actual usage. You were carping through his unyielding intentional evasion over the entire subject. You've caught him on the bushwhack, a subtle glimpse from your point of view when you had to peep along his side once Satoru shifted and twisted his figure, your eyes catching onto the incoherent gasp of Nihongo that resonated behind. Voices in which you weren't accustomed with, "Hm. Then, explain why I'd seen his hand stop before he could even steal your wallet from you then."

"Hold on," Satoru shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing at the ceiling as he took a second to muse over your question. He'd given you a pensive point of his forefinger, utmost skeptical from his canny woolgathering, "---You knew he was about to steal from me! Why are you siding with them, then?"

That was a careless thought from you as it sounded like you were indeed defending their wrongdoings. Though, you actually did not mean for it to define it that way. "I-I didn't say that! I wasn't siding with them at all!" you've stumbled over your words, repetitively batting your eyelashes like you've been guilty and have been exposed over your verbal intentions.

Satoru had his arms crossed, chewing the fat to emancipate his boredom along waiting in line. He had wheeled his way into your senses that he could just purchase the prizes you wanted from another store rather than twiddling one's thumbs to obtain a prize that was not worth the abundant tickets he had procured during the basketball game and other more in which he had outstandingly excelled. In spite of that, he had failed to persuade you into giving in because you were adamant over claiming them over the line, professing that it would be a waste of money.

His money. How would it be when it was not your money from the start.

The thought has been straightforwardly declared by the white-haired jujutsu sorcerer, misconceiving your dismissal over and over again when a typical living soul wouldn't have wasted this once in a lifetime opportunity to indulge over whatever it is you wanted even in limitless matters.

"You've been saying nothing but lies! You also know why I can do it. I already told you this." Satoru insisted with a subtle huff to your side as he'd stepped another with you, the line of awaiting people closing in. A great deal of prizes displayed in rows that were never ending and your eyes sparkled in glee for that. Your ebullience self never going unnoticed by Satoru who'd taken a glance of your exuberance, catching sight that you were staring upon a reward he was hopeful you wouldn't get because of how icky simple but cute it was.

Gojo thwarted from peering over your expressions when you'd glanced his way, gelled complaints following suit as if you already had it in bullet form for him to consider, "Excuse me---when did you? I hardly remember you explaining stuff! I'm also not a liar! I'm just entirely confused. Also, let me tell you how you keep your wallet for the whole world to be enticed in! You never explain any of this Jujutsu things to me. How could I even regain any of my memories---the one that you've been endlessly telling me about especially regarding with the sketches when you don't---"

Satoru pulled a face, cutting you off and underlining his grimace with a scratch to his white-head, possessing his slaphappy personality through his disclosure, his eyes vacant over looking straight-ahead, "Alright, alright! It's called Infinity, commonly known as the ability to stop. Although, that's the common misconception because the true power of the Infinity is to slow things down. Slow. things. down. There. It's the best explanation for a non-sorcerer like you to understand."

Infinity. It's commonly known as the ability to stop. But, the true power of the Infinity is to slow things down. Huh?

You've now held your own grimaces as well, scowling before him with a purse of your lips. The line you've drawn inside your head with his explanation and for what you were trying to see through his crusader abilities never connecting because whenever he does elucidate casually, it sounded like he was only describing what X and Y is in an alphabet when the subject had been about Algebra from the start.

"Do you just...turn this Infinity on, then? Like...how? I still don't get it---Ah! Whatever, Buzz Light-year." your mouth and nose was scrunched in displeasure, not once satisfied for his clarification over it, shaking your head as you audibly huffed. One of your pet-peeves that you've learned from today was that you were always genuinely annoyed whenever Satoru was coming across of one who did not want to drop things about what this Jujutsu Society were made of---for whatever reasons he had, you had no idea.

How were you to be of service when he was not wholeheartedly mucking in through this amnesia you were in?

"And you wonder why I don't explain every detail of Jujutsu to you," Satoru bellowed with an hairsplitting sigh, taking another glimpse and only having the view of your head due to the height difference that you both had. The depiction immediately went straight to his head, razzes being stuffed because of how silly it was to see how tiny you actually were compared to him, "---You never take it seriously, Tiny-Chan." he countered another, tuned into a frolicsome jig when it should've been a brushed off rebuke instead.

"It's because you take everything nonchalantly like I'm expected to magically know everything in just a snap of a finger. You also explain like you're frying a sunny-side up egg without actually having the actual egg, Satoru."

He'd felt you shift on his side, leaning down a little to take a little peek over your strange metaphors. His bushy, albino brows raised up in curiosity, an honest utterance of his wonders slipping out of his mouth as he trailed away, "What does that even mean..."

"You're an idiot who just doesn't know how to explain well."

Taglist for 7th Dimension is open for this Gojo Satoru Fanfic of mine! Just don't be shy---heehee---to send an ask, bb tater tot!

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littlemissidontcare · 2 years

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I’m the last anon and I am deeply sorry for all the typos… was typing while walking 😅

Lmao felt that 🤣 I cannot multitask for shit

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atopearth · 2 years

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BUSTAFELLOWS Part 3 - Mozu Sheppard Route

Ooh, the bandeau swimsuit is pretty nice, but I don't think I like how the colour is basically the same as her hair🤔 I feel like I have to turn off my brain every time there's a trial in this game because the things they say, like lollll. Anyway, I honestly don't think "talking" to corpses like Mozu does is really something insane imo. Well, I knew Mozu's sister would be involved with the school that had a murder occur, but I kinda thought his sister was alive... Ooh okay, she's just a missing case, and that's why Ivy said people were looking for her for a while before it just all died down and everyone "forgot" about it. Lmao when Mozu asked Teuta to do the talking to gather info at the academy because he's not good at talking with living people🤣🤣 One thing I really love is Teuta's relationship with Luka and Adam, just thinking about how Adam bothered to go all the way to the pub just to see them for 10 minutes and have one drink with them before going back to work again is so sweet!! He's such a wonderful guy🥲 Honestly, I still don't know if Teuta's brother is called Zola or Zora because it keeps fluctuating between the two lol, it's actually kinda annoying🥲🥲 Teuta and Mozu taking care of the poor puppy and its’ mother's corpses was bittersweet. It was sad that they got run over, but seeing how much care they both had for them by drying them etc made me happy that they were found by Teuta and Mozu. Whyyy does Mozu's route have so many typos?? It's actually frustrating lol.

I feel bad for Ivy. I can see why she must have felt frustrated towards Yuzu and bottled up her feelings of inadequacy and the image that Yuzu took the things she liked, so having a mini fight was understandable. The only crappy thing was that Yuzu ended up disappearing before they could make up. Troy being voiced by Morikubo Showtaro and constantly appearing asking questions, annoying Teuta with his "flirting" etc made it super obvious he was suspicious and most likely the killer and whatever else he does. I'm not sure what Troy's purpose was to actually tell Teuta where Ivy was though, like if he was "supposedly" the only one she attacked in his story, why does he need to tell Teuta and them where exactly she was instead of just saying something like I don't know where she went but she seemed kinda crazy and might attack someone or kill herself? Anyway, the little showdown at the gym was kinda lacking, especially since it was just Troy breaking down mentally. It was expected that Yuzu would be dead and there would be no reason for her to actually be alive considering how mental Troy was, I don't think he could keep someone who "wouldn't despair at death" alive to constantly stare at him and make him see that there are people unafraid and refuse to accept their deaths even to their last breath.

I'll admit that Mozu hugging Yuzu's corpse was pretty devastating, and then when he was zipping her up in the black bag he kept having nightmares of her being in, and basically the black bag he was forced to see his parents in back when he was a kid just made it all the more depressing. Mozu lived wanting to protect his one and only sister/family left in this world, and she just had to be murdered by this guy who hated rich kids and couldn't grasp why death enticed him so much so he kept killing rich kids he thought didn't deserve to live, and "erased bodies" as a job to have some sort of fulfilment. Also sad to know he erased Irina's body, but I never expected her to be alive after telling Teuta about that organisation and stuff, and I'm sure she knew she would die too and that's why she's been doing stuff in hopes for things to change with the information she has.

The ending of Side A was very abrupt though? I didn't expect Mozu to have erased a corpse before for money, that was really random, and for it to be Teuta's brother?? That's a deal-breaker for me, sorry. I know he didn't kill the guy but it doesn't change the fact that every time I look at him now, it makes me think of if someone disposed of one of my brother's bodies like that and it makes me want to kill them even if they weren't the murderer. Aaaand it was all just for drama, and to show how "troubled" Mozu was over the idea that it could wreck his relationship with Teuta, so it felt like he needed to tell Teuta just in case but like what??? They didn't bother double checking in the end whether the corpse he erased was really her brother, they didn't bother to try and think of details and compare it to see if it was or not and I feel really dissatisfied. I mean, I was never really into the romance with them because Mozu is cute but not my type, so I find it difficult to "like" him and I kinda find their love pretty random imo because I guess I just didn't really feel the connection, but yeah the brother thing annoyed me and made an already kinda lacking romance into something I could never accept unless things are cleared up, which they weren't! Mozu and Teuta cooking together was cute though.

Overall, Mozu's route was boring for me imo. It felt like a jack of all trades, master of none kinda story where it delved into a bit of romance with Teuta, a bit of his relationship with his sister, a bit about Troy's story and thoughts, but nothing was really deep enough for me to feel that the story was engaging, and the characters didn't feel like they were explored enough for me to properly induce the emotions it wanted from me as a reader. Like yeah, I still felt sad that Mozu had to deal with his sister's death like that when he treasured her so much, but I felt like alot of that I had to supplement the feelings I have towards my siblings to really feel how Mozu "should be feeling" rather than it being showed properly in the story, if you get what I mean. I'm also still on the fence with the brother thing because thinking about it still turns me off from Mozu even though he's a very nice guy lol. I still find the romance rather awkward imo, and the other guys don't appear too much in this route so I felt like I had to quite like Mozu if I wanted to enjoy the route, but I really didn't care for him that much, so I actually found it mostly boring, I'm sorry🥲🥲🥲

#BUSTAFELLOWS

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

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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)

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

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

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7th Dimension (Chapter 7)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 6

7TH DIMENSION MASTERLIST

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Summary: 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.

Warnings: This is quite...fluffy in terms of knowing their impressions or discoveries for each other? I hope y'all get my point...Heehee. The word 'shit' and Damn? Gojo Satoru's existence and his teasing self? Earth references. Orbeez Balls is mentioned here and also COVID-19 as well. I dunno how I've connected it to this story. Hehe. It just happened while I was writing away. Satoru, not knowing what personal space is. This has been long and descriptive. 😭 I'm sorry. Also I have no idea if they have a teacher's dormitory since it hasn't been mentioned (as far as I remember yet I'm quite forgetful bb's 😅😭) but let's just say that there is. Reader is now officially a simp for him? LMAO HEHEHE Gojo just doesn't know what personal space is all the damn time.

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

A/N: I'm starting to feel jealous over my own character here---TINY-CHAN, MOVE OVER! 😭😭 COME ON. 😭 *coughs* Next chapters would be bisections of Chapter 7. I've segregated it in 4-6 parts because it's too long for one chapter? Hehehe. ENJOY!

Words: 7.2k+ (THIS IS A LOT FOR ONE CHAPTER I'M SORRY. It's very detailed. T3T)

People who woke up in high spirits in an abnormally early morning were marked to be notable within the vast troops of mankind. In all honesty, those types of people were of different species---probably the best of the best because they were considered to be productive, fruitful for any activity or responsibilities that would land on their hands.

Whilst the classification where as humans who woke up on the wrong side of the bed; utterly grouchy with plastered ridges of his or her own wrinkled pillows slapped on the skins of their faces, displaying such a portrayal of how deep they were in their sleep and honoring such an unpleasant sight of tightly furrowed brows because of a loud, blaring alarm that reverberated around a room you were trying to habituate in---these kind of people were the stereotypical back in your dimension.

Quote, Back in your dimension. Unquote.

Experiencing mirth in an odd, early morning will never be your style. Even after you had your own business, it was a bad habit but you were coping. Note the word, were. It has not been a hundred percent adapted yet before you were brought on a world that was bound to give you headaches after headaches.

Especially if one case of an headache would include the dealings you had for a particular white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer or be in communication with Satoru Gojo twenty four seven.

It would be a hell of an headache.

The visualization was beyond giving you neuralgia. Albeit, Satoru's visuals---which has been prepossessing since the moment you've recalled the concept of him without his mask on was undeniably delightful to wake up to, it wasn't sufficient if it meant that he had to menacingly set an alarm on exactly four in the damned morning and at full volume, trying to get you to rise-and-shine with a blue sticky note to your forehead.

Four in the freakin' morning.

You bet the odds that not even his students were awake at this particular time of the day where the sun wasn't even shining yet.

With the sticky note on hand, a deep scowl to your face, you've brought yourself to the side of the bed. The glossy forest wood planks in a chorus of brown, it's varnish trapping along the moisture of the wood has been brisk beneath the soles of your feet as you've given the room a once over.

Satoru wouldn't have used his abilities to warp inside your room and scribble such a messy alphabet in Roman style as if it has been forcefully copied letter by letter from Google Translate, right?

You were skeptical over the entire idea. Yet, deep down, it felt like he was bound to be that type of guy especially when one of his abilities had the benefit of teleporting or warping from one place and to the other. For the most part, he obviously would because you were currently shoved towards the teacher's dormitory. Postulating over the expanse of what the room appeared to have, it was technically a lot wider and spacious with a hint of a bachelor's sense of interior design, you guesstimated that this was Satoru's dormitory room.

Besides, the distinct scent of perfume; how Musk and Sandalwood wafted through your nose, you knew it was his from the moment you've stepped foot inside the area. Also, you were manhandled by the man himself, shoving you inside his room before you could even react as he bid his goodbye.

Where was he going to sleep then? Well, he sure did look like he was one of the minted. A person who had the privilege in calling the shots. With over how he had requested for a private plane with just one call away? he probably had that type of wealthy prerogative. You've pursed your lips at that, musing on the thought. Might as well admit that Satoru was rolling in the riches then.

Hence, the note that has been written in a tortuous duplication of the roman alphabet scribbled with black ink tells you that he belonged in the affluent society in their dimension after reading through the lines, comprehending that this proposal had a prize or treat included which lightened up the cranky mood that you were tailoring at the present time.

"Tiny-Chan's Mind Training with Satoru: 'Create anything sweet for the 'Great Gojo'

This will be graded. Prizes may vary. 10/10 rating will be rewarded with a Shopping Spree funded by the Strongest. Hehehe. >:)"

You have been ignoble over your own skills in terms of the culinary or baking side. Despite of the profession you had been in; the concept of having your business over it. This has still been one of your study and tentation. A hit or miss moments or the R and D whenever you encounter something new; something that was far beyond the customary.

Satoru had not mentioned any specifics towards what type of sweetmeat he wanted. However, you've reckoned he would want something of the Japanese cuisines in which he probably have been familiar with.

You might as well add a dash of your own favorite tastes and concoct something out of the blue with whatever ingredients were to be seen in a kitchen that you know would be difficult to find in a broad place within the school you were in. The problem with Tokyo Jujutsu High was that there has not been a lot of people to be seen nor were you introduced to yet.

How you've been shoved inside Satoru's room by the man himself felt like he was trying to keep you hidden as possible despite the chances of meeting another person within the area was a ten out of hundred from the lack of people or staff that inhabited the area.

Though, you were rest-assured someone had owned the room beside yours because you remembered someone kicking on your doors and hollering out Satoru's surname behind the locked hatch.

You obviously were sleeping like a log to even bother and give her your acknowledgement. First and foremost, you never comprehended the Japanese language unless it was Satoru who was talking. The world made it seem like you had no other choice but to communicate and live through him.

Damn it.

After at least a minute of trying to break down the doors in the least, quietest way as possible, this person left with unfathomable phrases of Nihongo that led you to pulling the duvet over your head a lot more than you ever did.

You had the sticky note on your hand, your eyes squinted so hard because of how your perspective was still blurry from the abnormally early rouse. With eyes that hinted a little of corin pigmented morning glory, you've prodded them off with the back of your fingers as an unalluring yawn left your mouth, drowsily murmuring beneath your breath, "This isn't mind training. He just wanted me to make something for him. Ah, this guy and his addiction for sweets...really,"

Cookies and Cream Mochi Ice Cream.

In all likelihood, that irresolute feeling inside of you says that this was an atrocious concoction for a mochi flavor. It was an unusual choice rather than the threadbare ones; chocolate and vanilla being the first of your selections. Second would've been strawberry and red bean. Be that as it may, you've still chosen an option that left you ambivalent nor where you confident enough for it to taste ideal for everyone as this has been the first time you've tried to produce such a dessert.

You've tightly sealed the tupperware with its locks that clicked from the sides. Those were the last batch---the extras that came from the excess ingredients that weren't bound to be kept as it would lessen the quality and freshness of the dish. You decided that it was best to just hand the last batch of mochi ice cream to Satoru's students or to whoever wanted it. You've estimated to have at least only two batches of them. Surprisingly, there has been another which consisted another dozen pieces of it. Three batches that had different colorants but held the same flavors for all. Red, Purple and White.

The kitchen island were in a heap of rice-flour, used glass bowls and other scullery paraphernalia that aided you through the cooking. Tokyo Jujutsu High and the tranquility it offered kept you in a fazed consolation over being on one's Jack Jones. Was it the fact that there weren't a lot of people nor staff that paraded along the institution regardless of how tremendous the school appeared to be?

Or was it because you were used to playing your set of song playlist whenever you were strenuously engrossed every time you were cooking dishes. Somehow, you were aggravated over the fact that your phone---the one that has been constantly in Satoru's pockets and were being kept detained because of a question that you couldn't grasp an answer to---weren't with you as he was utterly obtrusive that you had your passcode saved using his exact birthdate.

You had no idea over what day or month his birthday even was. The guy was probably just an egomaniac to assume that you were bewitched of him enough to have it used as a password.

But, were you not? Entirely bewitched by Satoru's pulchritudinous charm and enchantment?

His eyes were the Ethers; the bluest of blue---celestial Arctic blue that could define the islands of the Blessed. Satoru's beauty could beckon an ailing saint, reinvigorate your flawed soul that traipsed along the crippled path towards Siberia. The shattered utopias that pooled inside those eyes of his---you've foolishly shook your head, mentally eradicating those descriptive thoughts which always kept your heart on tenterhooks. Your mouth were kept in a tight thin line as you've pulled the freezer to the institute's French-door refrigerator, the heartbeat of yours increasing from the sudden outrage you have been feeling. Satoru had been a plague, the COVID-19 to humanity's 2020 back in your dimension.

Hence, even in his world, COVID-19 hadn't been entirely eradicated after all. You doubt he was bound to be exterminated when he was utterly self assertive that he was of person described by everyone as someone who was 'invincible'.

It was impossible to believe so because in your perspective, he was an utter man-child.

Either that, you weren't just given the unabridged sight of what he was absolutely capable of because everybody---including the authoritarians seemed to be like he had them wrapped around his fingers in spite of how they abhorred him for a complex personality and potential that they couldn't keep a tight rein on.

Abhorred. You wouldn't get to the point of describing Satoru that way when he was out with you, trying to offer a lending hand over how to bring you back to your dimension. Though, his proposals had a price---a cost that you surely couldn't put two and two together yet because his assistance were nonsensical to aid such amnesia---you might as well just comply to what he wanted. Although, it mostly has been off the subject.

"Tiny-Chan! Yoohoo!"

Speak of the handsome devil.

You've closed the bottom freezer with your black and white converse that has been besmirched in turf and grunge, even with dried up ichor as well. Your whole being went stiff upon hearing his silvery voice echo around the kitchen, the sobriquet that left his lips sounded jocular more than ever as if he had been chanting the epithet while he was tracking you down. There was this sudden need to clear your throat, your eyes momentarily fluttering close as if to ruminate over how your mind instantly went blank for a second from his unforeseen arrival.

Straightaway, at that exact moment, you knew that his existence was meant to beset your stray soul that wandered upon a dimension which was not meant for you to promenade in.

Without even sparing him a glance, you've unfastened the knot of the strawberry designed apron around you. His heavy, faint footfalls progressed louder, signaling you that he was coming nearby.

You had no idea but you were---indeed, panicking.

Satoru took a second from the figure that stood before the refrigerator, wondering along the hatch as he merrily peeked through the edge of the door with a beam on his face. The moment it fell was when the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer couldn't get the drift of who exactly has been cooking that he had felt the need to verify by scrutinizing you beneath his sunglasses, getting an absolute detail and a definite clearer view without the shroud of his calignous, arrant sunglasses which wasn't as nifty as the normal ones that ordinary people wear.

Well, he wasn't bound to be defined as someone who was normal nor ordinary anyways.

"Eh? You're wearing my uniform?" Gojo was inquisitive as he welcomed himself all the way in as the latter spotted you on the corner, straining to stand on your tippy-toes with your grubby apron.

The effigy of you bedizened in a uniform he had been donning since the day he had it specially customized, his midnight blue parka that ended right just below your knee. An unmistakably declaration that his customary clothing were downright a mammoth next to a kitty---as clear as day, Satoru's garment was clearly vast for your poky height. The sleeves of his jacket felt like it had been an utter hassle as you've been struggling to yank them over your arm because of how it had been over the length that even the fabric that went along his neckline have been made to cover up your entire mouth as if you were one Jujutsu Sorcerer who had some type of cursed speech technique just like Inumaki Toge.

He couldn't grasp at the sensibilities but this went over his system like how Cabernet tasted best chambré; how his coffee had to have at least an additional spoonful of sugar and how he was always in a quandary over choosing what was superior for his palates, would it be chocolate butternut or red velvet?

It was the kind of a mare's nest. Labyrinthine intimation of a discovery that pervaded the desolated garth with tepid sunbeams and binding, eager roses wading its way along the terra firma, neglectful over the barbs that came with it.

Satoru felt like this was an aberrant sensibility that required a doughty explanation. However, it made it seem like it was better unrefuted.

You were heedless over how his broad smile turned nominal, his beam never showing the pearly whites, you've deadpanned. Though, your sentences still felt like it was dancing along the words because of how you claimed, speaking tongue-in-cheek, "Because I had to shower and these were the only clothing you left in that closet of yours. It seemed quite intentional. Don't you think?"

Gojo had his hands inside his pockets as he paved his way, utterly curious over what you had cooked or concocted for him, nearing in as he paused alongside you, leaning beside the kitchen counter as he basically loomed before your height. It was thoroughly evident over how towering he was compared to yours that he had to peer down and be engulfed by his shadows.

"It wasn't! I had a lot of extra pairs! I hardly use the dormitory anymore the past few months,"

Finally, having the willpower to acknowledge his presence, you've turned your head to be met by his clothed chest. Life was unfair, really. How the simplest clothing that Satoru wore could leave every woman breathless and drowning in his enchantments. You've given him a once over, scanning him from toes to head---the opposite of people's daily habit---heedful that it was a deliberate act from your side because of how skeptical you were over what he had to wear for his head clothing. Was it the blindfolds or sunglasses?

To keep your heart steady before it could even be the only sound you were bound to be distracted with aside from Satoru's presence, you've noted how he was garbed with plain black jeans, a plain white shirt partnered with a lavish, sable leather jacket that glorified his broad shoulders and---

---his sunglasses. The difference today was that he was wearing the circle ones you were adamant of him to wear, those particular specs that you've spurned him to think that it was better than the current ones he had.

What antagonized you even more was that Satoru had an amicable smile on his face, dithering the image with the winsome crinkle of his eyes. You could clearly tell that this was poles apart to those skittish grins he always shared with you, the mischievous beams that would tell that it was no good to the society.

Your responses were sprightly. An apparent, involuntary response that has gotten you throwing the refrigerators wide open, feigning an act that you had something to grab onto from the fridge when it has just been your reckless reflexes to avoid the want to scream and the simmering heat traveling from your neck towards your face.

The frigid puff of breeze shot you in the face, peering real hard in search for nothing inside. You've heard Satoru emit a low hum of inquiry, the large refrigerator door seeming to be a baricade between you both since you've forcefully tugged them open. Perhaps, he wondered why you had to cover his view with the institute's steel refrigerator door.

You were savvy that he was profoundly indecipherable over your native language. Hence, this was the only---the lone convenience that you could use against him. A damned benighted trump card that he would probably loathe for or hank to overhear in venereal matters that knocked behind closed doors the last time he heard you during a conversation.

"Really. You just had to wear that today. I know the man sketched on the paper is you. No need to call me out over how stupid I am,"

A random tattle in the midst of being in a spur of the moment. The sole babble that helped eased how his mere existence was throwing you off balanced. You've spoke to no one in particular and just yourself, the native phrase going straight from Satoru's ears and to the other.

"You sayin' somethin'?" Gojo pulled a face, taking a step to the side to peek through the refrigerators to see that you were staring at a basket of potatoes. Your weirdness making his head tilt quizzically. Though, the sudden shift of language sounded incomprehensive in his point of view. Satoru found it downright bewailing that he could not understand a thing nor could he do anything about it. Howbeit, to you; it was a win-win situation.

You were right. He was utterly clueless over every word that you had to utter another as you sighed and eventually huffed from the fish bone that was poking through your insides, "Yep. I'm lucky you have no idea over what I've been saying. Hah."

Once the cold pacified your flustered senses and everything was all hushed. The native pep-talks that has been spoken out loud---much to Gojo's utter dismay and displeasure, you've calmly breathed through your nose, gently closing the refrigerator door shut, intentionally walking over to the opposite side of where he stood, going past him without second doubts and managing to stroll towards the kitchen island that was cluttered with messy mochi ingredients.

To no use, Satoru was determined to be of nuisance and trailed along. Utmost resentful over his language deficiency from your mother-tongue. His nosiness heightening the displeasure that frowned his face, expressive enough that he had his mouth curled in a fit of pique. Satoru was not fond of the indignation. This was rather a thorn in one's flesh for him as he was notorious over being someone who knows and has the ability to do anything. Hence, he meant that he was not capable of achieving nothing.

Nevertheless, your precipitate need upon speaking a language that was incompetent for his knowledge stirred a palpable, vast annoyance within him.

You probably had pained his overflowing pride.

"Oi. That's not fair. I have no idea over what you're saying." Satoru's mouth twitched in vexation, shadowing behind like a child being neglected over such withheld attention.

Attention. He noticed---no, Satoru beheld that you were giving him the go-by. Thus, being aware of how you were turning a blind eye to his presence ruffled his feathers.

He had no idea but the way you've been looking the other way and have been disregarding his presence despite of paying attention to what he has been saying peeved the Jujutsu Sorcerer. Gojo was bothered as if he wanted your sole attention on him, alone.

"Can't you wear your blindfolds again?" you nasally asked, point-blank. Greatly bothered by how he was bringing himself right now---the clothes he wore from top to bottom, it felt like the entire test has not been about the 'cooking' after all. This felt like an assessment on how to keep yourself mollified and composed whenever he was around.

You've brushed the pooling sweat with the extended sleeves of Satoru's uniform you wore, grabbing onto the used glass bowls without acknowledging Satoru who kept trailing around you. He slithered alongside you. Now, leaning his hip along the mahogany kitchen island which was basically as tall as where your stomach goes.

"You're confusing me here--," He spoke rather forthright, crossing his long arms over his chest. Bending over to peer down at your face, scanning your expressions from beneath his sunglasses. Yet, his advances were futile as you basically turned to grab onto another set of used utensils, continuously ignoring to give him the heed that he somehow had been inexplicably pining for.

"---Aren't you the one telling me how uncomfortable you are whenever I wear it?"

You haven't noticed how he swallowed down his odd frustration over the whole ignorance. This flicker of such strange irritation were tucked away with a smicker, the end of his lip churning upward as he goaded, his reckoning for the wanted attention making him sound vain, "Unless, I actually make you feel...things whenever you see my eyes?" he sniggered, his smirk growing larger, snapping both his forefinger and middle one together right in front of your face.

"---Heh. Bet you are!"

You've turned your back to him, gradually being habituated over his wonted blustering arrogance over everything especially towards the part that he knew himself that he was downright gorgeous.

His grin have been eradicated, abruptly falling when you've shunned away from his antics over how he was trying to catch your attention. It was just an estimated of one to two days with Nanami Kento and you were already behaving like he had been whenever Satoru was around the guy.

You've gently dropped the soiled equipment on the sink, grumbling another set of your natal tongue beneath your breath. Your lips pressed tightly together towards the end of your sentence as you turned the faucet on, keeping the grubby kitchen equipment wet so you wouldn't have a difficult time when you begin washing them, "Even without it, you do give me that feeling."

"Ah! You're prohibited to speak your native language, Tiny-Chan! Unless, I say so!"

Satoru's irritation pricked him to the point that he had to brush his fingers along his draping, white luscious locks, grousing as he did so. The irk kicking him over and over again that he had to keep his cool by inserting his hands inside his pockets, trying to keep himself within his presence of mind.

This has never happened to him in a definite amount of time. It has been long since the moment he last felt that infuriation. In spite of that offbeat frustration, he couldn't believe how pathetic the reason was.

It was simply just wanting to have the attention of a non-sorcerer. Hence, this non-sorcerer was of a woman who was tiny, bloody-minded from the start and held strange references of quotes that existed in your dimension.

He'd basically ran to the fridge, omitting his vexation with a cheery attitude as he yanked the freezer open, humming out his excitement when he'd seen three different tupperwares that were tightly locked, "Where's my sweets?!"

You've spun around, noting that he was wholly bent over as you passed behind the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, his long legs spread before him like he was manspreading---a proprietary plaguy habit that he seemed to have manifested.

"Don't touch the white ones. They're newly made."

The ear piercing screech made your nose scrunch as you've pulled a bar stool and planted your ass straight on it. A volitional act to keep yourself at arm's length from Satoru as he was enthusiastically choosing which is which. Paying regard over his low, pleasing hums whenever he was distracted over particular things that kept him interested.

Satoru was eager to choose the blue one, bringing himself to his full height before he'd manage to shut the freezer close with the heel of his shoe, expressing his zealous tee-hees with the tupperware he held, striding to where you sat.

"Also, I'm no expert at making these stuff, but I tried, Satoru. It's far from what I normally sell back in...my shop," you've momentarily trailed off, the topic of your life back in your own world kept you in a faraway land that you've never noticed Gojo who tossed himself beside you with a haughty grin.

The sniggering, white haired sorcerer took the seat next to you. His own bar stool emitting a loud screech but he did not seem to care at all as he was swift enough to plop beside you, sliding the frozen tupperware between you both.

It was probably inevitable not to give heed to his presence. Would it be better to just stare over that particular crease in between a person's eyebrows? That had been a technique taught back in earth in regards to people who were rattled by staring into one's eyes. Howbeit, the approach had been abandoned when the apprehension diverted towards what you actually had created for him.

The mochi ice cream that you were timid of.

"I've made my own---Uhm, tried to create some Cookies and Cream flavored mochi ice cream," you began to stammer when you've suddenly heard the last click of the tupperware's lock pry open. Satoru was avid as he tossed the cover to the side. He was absorbed over the toothsome dessert that waited to be devoured. He was oblivious towards your attention that was now exclusively set for him. Without any second thought, his long, Herculean fingers began to just go for the kill before you've pulled them away.

Shit. You mentally cursed, never one to speak it out loud. You actually haven't gotten a bite out of one aside from Ijichi who'd manage to stumble upon the kitchen. The bothering issue was that the assistant director had limited knowledge over the language you could both understand to that he had not offered his feedbacks over the sweetmeat and just left without a word.

Though, he was smiling genuinely as he did so. That was a good sign right?

Or was he just feigning the disgusting taste of your mochis that he had to put on a smile for you?

"Wait!" you loudly exclaimed, keeping them out of Satoru's reach. His gaze has now met yours which made you swallow a big one out of the butterflies that started dancing inside your stomach, "---I-I actually haven't tasted them yet. Let me taste them first! I've had them refrigerated long enough for it to be frozen!"

The mochi ice cream was doughy in between your fingers, sweet dish baltic for the accurate texture to achieve the consistency that you wanted. Regardless of the quality, you were clueless over the taste.

You were actually panicking again, having the kittens over a timorous sweet dish you've chosen.

What a scatterbrain you've turned into, an utter damfool when this guy began to exist in your life.

Satoru's irreverence was meant to curb your jim-jams when he'd began to behave in his harebrained ploys. He raised a questioning brow, thoroughly being a pain in the ass while he'd dogged over your hesitance, his captivating gaze locking upon the target that were in between the tips of your fingers, "No can do! The Great Teacher Gojo gets to have the first taste!"

"H-Hey! You're just being gluttonous! That was my piece!"

You've felt your heart leap from his thoughtless movements. Your subconscious mind wanted to yell on top of your lungs when you've felt the soft, pillow of his lips graze along your fingertips, thoroughly asleep on the wheel over his impulsive actions. It felt remarkably supple---just like how it appeared to be downright promising, sheeny just as how his vermillion was giving the impression.

Nope. You weren't admiring how his lips come across as being since then. Nope, that quiet, timid voice whispered in the back of your head.

One of Gojo's cheeks were tumefied. Inchmeal, chewing the sweetmeat that filled half his mouth. The strange, taciturnity from the Jujutsu Sorcerer burning your anticipation to the point that it left you stammering and lost in your train of thoughts. His expressions were entirely noncommittal---never one to see him that way as the guy was clearly overdramatic whenever he reacts to anything.

"S-So? How is it? I know it probably lacks the taste or sweetness or something or whatever..." your fingers grabbed another piece of Mochi ice cream as you blabbered, the tiny shake of your fingers fanning the flames of your inner frets.

You were about to have a taste yourself when the latter had to race you to it again, just diving in and chomping the piece with his own mouth through your fingertips. Thank the heavens that his lip hadn't touched the skin of your fingers for the second time around because you weren't in a stable state of mind already. Howbeit, the juxtaposition he held out for you with his face close to yours had been sending the tingles across your skin, crawling through your heart as it fluttered like a maniac.

His sweet, minty, warm breath fanned across your face in a puff of air when he laughed. His mouth jammed with your home made sweet treat before he sat back on his chair.

"SERIOUSLY. Let me taste it! You're being selfish, Satoru!"

Gojo's mouth quirked at the corners, giving you a roguish one. Prior to his bereft of speech, he was quick to mantle them and kept the entirety of his bona-fide assessments over what you prepared for him. "Hehehe. Can't help it." Satoru spoke with his mouth full, attentive of the minimal commentary he'd managed to give.

You didn't need to know how piquant it was once the sugary, cold dessert passed through his palates; how it left his mouth avaricious for more. He knew this---no, your dexterity with desserts or pastries was guaranteed for his daily, disputed cravings that would eventually come by after today. Thus, this was enough to put your skills to blame because he knew it was an itching gluttony that no special 'kikufuku' could satiate him with.

It began to be his favorite. The first ever sweetmeat he'd tasted from you. Fast as one could judge, certainly a biased point of view from the latter. His taste buds determined to be a renegade for an expeditious patronizing chance. Certainly, this would be the kind where he would persistently yearn for every damn day; the sort that will bother the gluttony of malaise which were an entire inconvenience for Satoru if you were the sole person who could only soothe his sweet tooth.

"What's my grade then?" you've taken heed over how he was gradually chewing the food inside his mouth, abrupt inattentive of your way of catching his attention that you had to purse your lips, finding his reaction that this had been a failure in your part through the way he seemed too engrossed over swallowing what he was chewing.

It certainly tasted bad then.

Gojo was strangely tacit. He was never one to be this way---you believed he was. The latter had the expression that he was holding back his opinions. You were probably right. It tasted unpleasant and he was just forcing to consume them for you.

"Hey, Satoru." you repeated, mouth twisting in a tight frown from how he was treating you like a fly in the face and also never getting the reactions or commentary you wanted. This was probably how he felt when you tried ignoring him a while ago.

Much to your dismay, you've reached for the tossed cover of the tupperware on the middle of the kitchen island and at full pelt, planning to just close them off and cease whatever playacts he was playing.

Though, your heart flew out of your chest when Satoru abruptly yanked the earthenware out of arms reach, shifting around his seat with his broad, wide back away from you as he began to pig out on the sweetmeat as if he did not want to share.

Did he just turn his back away from you like a selfish child?

In all seriousness, the white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer actually did not want to share any piece with you because he wanted everything to himself.

Your eyes were popping out of your eye-sockets when you've noticed how he was hastily devouring them one by one, "Don't finish them all! The others are for Megumi, Yuji and Nobara!" You declared in worry for the possibility that he would basically finish the whole damn dish in just one sitting from how he was eagerly popping piece per piece with no cessation.

You tried to sneak your arm around him. Though, it was entirely futile from how he twirled his bar stool and used his towering stature to his advantage, covering the Ice Cream Mochis that were plated in front of him, "Who says I'm sharing these with them?---," he retaliated between bites, thoroughly immersed upon guzzling the dessert to sate his sweet cravings, "---These are mine. All mine. None for my students."

"You're being greedy."

Satoru heard you huffing from behind. He wasn't oblivious to your frolic ways of trying to snitch a piece of your own dessert that you've made for him. Without even realizing it, the Jujutsu Sorcerer had a wolfish grin etched to his face when you've began grumbling your twines like a pipsqueak.

"Write me something on a sticky-note," he suddenly asked in between bites---no, demanded was the correct word as a bunch of blue sticky notes and a multi-colored pen was now tossed to your way when you've begrudgingly marched your way back beside him, grouching over the fact that he wasn't sharing the food you've made for him.

It confused you.

Your hunches tell you that he was bluffing all the while he gorged upon the sweet dish like a child.

"Don't you know how to write?" you groused with your shoulders slouched, your knuckles over your chin as you were audibly trying to express your whines through the scowl on your face.

"I actually do. Have you seen my pretty handwriting on that sticky-note I stamped for you?"

"The sticky note you've plastered on my forehead while I was asleep? That one?---," you nasally snorted in a satirizing tone, snickering for the candid thoughts that passed by your mouth without even thinking twice. Unaware of your bald statement that sarcastically criticized Satoru, remembering how you were forced to wake up at four in the morning with a damned sticky note to your forehead, the reason why you were cantankerous at intervals.

"---Your handwriting looked like it has been dragged by the ass of a chicken and also been a bootleg copy from Google Translate,"

Satoru ceased from chewing onto the dessert after hearing that, his eyes widening from the frank choice of words as he grabbed another piece of Mochi ice cream in between his thick, calloused fingers, "You know, for a stubborn, ignorant, non-sorcerer who's in the midst of having an amnesia and actually pleads for my help to return to her sole dimension,---" a provoking pause. "---you're the only one---and when I say only one, the absolute one who has the guts to taunt the strongest and it doesn't help that you're pocket sized which makes everything funnier if you ask me."

He'd given you the side-eye, feigning a serious behavior to support the next sentence that would come out of his mouth as one that should be taken as a life or death situation. Gojo suppressed his need to smile when he'd seen the obvious grimace that twisted your mouth in a comical way, the incredulity earning another clamorous reaction from you that he finds entirely entertaining.

"You earn a minus, Tiny-Chan."

"Hey! That's unfair! You haven't even told me my grade yet! I've woken up at four in the morning when I'm not used to waking up that early because of that loud alarm you were intent on setting up!" you began to complain again, the shopping spree prize filling your thoughts when he'd pitch into the idea of giving you a minus despite of not actually knowing the earnest rating of your dessert yet.

He was probably joking. You thought to yourself, giving him a dirty look with tightly scrunched brows.

"Ah. Is that so? But, I see that you're out here being really determined to claim that reward you wanted---," another pause. "---You twine too much. Another minus from the Great Teacher Gojo, then."

Perhaps, he wasn't.

Satoru left it at that and tried hard to stifle his chuckles, cutting off the gaze he was giving you as he looked away. Heedless of how he was trying to intentionally brush you off, trying to act cool as a cucumber. Believe it or not, but the latter was aware of how you've pursed your lips in disdain, saddened over the fact that he was willfully turning a blind eye.

This triggered a grin for Satoru, lifting his lips as he deliberately popped another sweetmeat inside his mouth.

"Tch. I don't even know how to write your alphabets. You know this." you've went on with your cavils, begrudgingly grabbing onto the sticky note and ball-pen as you apathetically responded with a sigh.

Too engrossed over guessing what to write, Satoru had lickety-split pulled your bar stool closer to his side. Earning a cacophonous squeak out of you from his rash movements. The Jujutsu Sorcerer nescient of his spontaneous deeds as he was effervescent to spun around, his tactless maneuvers getting the best of him before he could even regard that he'd cudgel his brains out for this one from the moment you've fitted to a fare-thee-well in between his widely, spread legs, occluding the legroom he'd involuntary made for you.

An overwhelming staggering space that stiffened your entire figure. The disconcerting pummeling of your heart that wanted to bounce of your chest ringing inside your ears again as he went on by keeping you nestled. Satoru had given you enough precarious room to hear his quelled breathing and those low, breathy chuckles that slips out of his puckish sense of humor; his palpable warmth that your subconsciousness described as somewhat sheltering to the point that it manifested how it was an epitome for an ideal snuggling.

"That's the plan. You're writing it using the Roman one! Come on. You get extra incentives!" Satoru eagerly exclaimed, he was ignorant as ever for your rigid muscles, ceasing to function properly when he'd reacted to his own incautious reflexes.

The white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer leaned further to his side, extending his long limbs over the kitchen island with his knuckles topped below his chin while he nonchalantly instructed what was needed to be written.

"Gojo's Untouchable Mochi Ice Cream. That should do it."

He had been engrossed over thinking what was about to be written on the paper that he'd briefly took heed of how floored you seem to be like you were zapped by lightning. You were gawking with eyes that glinted of shine---were your eyes actually glistening in disorientation or the fact that you were also dumbfounded for his quirky exigency to have you nigh?

Satoru's sunglasses dangled along his tall nose-bridge, lowered in an amount that he had given you a lovely sight of those pair of Ethers; looking to be half-lidded. It was efficient enough to blow the gaff that the strongest knew you were caught in his mojo that he swiftly decided to make sheep's eyes at you, relishing in your sudden daydream. Ten to one, he was licking one's lips over the recognition.

"You gonna' write that down or just stare at my face until you realize how you're giving me the adorable heart eyes?"

Adorable. Did you hear that right?

You've forcibly blinked out of your reverie, disregarding the trance under coercion because of how you were caught red handed by the man himself, not wanting to relish in his toffee-nosed ridicules because you knew this woolgathering that you've somehow been knocked out with had him entirely involved in it.

Damn him. Damn Satoru and his charisma. You've breathed out an alleviated sigh, noting the quivers of your fingers when you've began writing it down for him as you bit along the inner part of your lips, the heebie-jeebies straining your nerves down in a trembling mess.

Trapped in your own frets, stutters and stupor, It was improvident of you to be divvy enough that Gojo had been derisory outstaring over the tiniest reactions or expressions you've been giving. The latter weighing up over shrouded, kept thoughts that felt anomalous.

"Wait. Let me add something." He simply stated, innocuous how you'd astonishingly kept him sidetracked when it never happens at all. That was strange. Satoru purposefully pulled himself out of his own cogitation, abruptly grabbing onto your own pen and paper as he scribbled and drawn shapes to his own, leaving you to your own stammers and train of thoughts when you've mumbled and eventually realized that he was being covetous for the dessert you've separated for the others as well.

"I-I've made at least an extra 2 dozen set of these. Spare them at least a bunch."

"Nope! Nah-uh. Not a chance. It's not happening. Gojo gets the extra 2 dozen. Satoru gets the bunch." the latter shook his head and emphasized as he was busily scrawling whatever he wanted on a vest pocket piece of paper in comparison to his large hands.

The paper were thrown pell-mell towards you, tossing them back whilst he clicked the pen and aimlessly twirled them around his fingers. His undivided attention shifting back to you when you've confoundedly responded with a tight crease between your brows, scrutinizing the paper on your hands.

"The heck is this?"

A sublime sketch of a circle and a furtive set of Japanese alphabets---that were downright incomprehensible for you---were drawn below your note. The illustration aligned in bullet form to keep it in one piece and not acquire another set of an extra sticky note. Back in your dimension, these discoid depiction was a toy back in the 90's. For the children, this was best believed to be a kind of plaything which had a wide selection of colors ranging from red, yellow, blue and a whole lotta' more. This type of toy had its own premise by the minors that it reproduces on its own whenever it lived in water. However, if Google was to be used as a form of reference, this trinket was called Orbeez Balls. They were small, absorbent polymer beads made of acrylic acid, sodium hydroxide, and water.

Was Satoru threatening the person who would eat his special homemade Mochi ice cream by throwing Orbeez Balls on their faces?

"Cursed Technique Reversal: Red." His offhand way of elucidating to your confusion had you quizzically tilting your head to the side, your face warped in skepticism and oddity for whatever he was saying as you couldn't decipher a single thing over what he had planned for the victim whom would fall for his ruse.

"You gonna' throw them some Orbeez balls or something?"

Orbeez balls. Gojo knew what it was---finally, a reference that certainly came from your dimension in which he commended himself for, he knew he deserved a loud applause for it as the footnote tickled a snicker out of him. He'd pointed at the second bullet, describing you what the Japanese alphabet and drawings meant so you weren't lost in translation, "That's Hollow Technique: Purple. The white one will probably have some hand-to-hand combat with me,"

You were holding your horses. The furrows along your eyebrows deepening further from his explanation. He'd patiently waited for anything---any damned memory to flash before your eyes. To no avail, you still had no idea over the entirety of his abilities especially when you've persistently claimed how you've thought that he was relating his techniques over a childish toy.

"I understand the hand-to-hand combat. But, these circles...You probably actually meant to say, Orbeez balls?"

Gojo Satoru leaned closer, eyeing you over his sunglasses as the proximity had been much of a bother that it has given you a knee-jerk reaction of helplessly stumbling back in the slightest. That habit of his was extremely unacceptable for your fluttering heart.

"It's not what you're actually pertaining to."

In a matter of seconds, Satoru had even raised a finger as if he was trying to shush you from your jejune theories for an ability that everyone had wanted to evade him for. He wasn't aware of how your palms begin to sweat when he was starting to come to terms that your presence and sheathlike space between you both was rather homely---an incongruous comfort that he shut one's eye to.

His burly fingers was bound to touch your lip if you hadn't reveled in the impulsive rush of your nerves. Satoru was in between his train of thoughts when you've interrupted him due to the sudden rash decisions you've taken. It went as far as to goading his countable mochi ice cream that were left.

"Don't you worry! You wouldn't want me explaining it anyways. You're probably going to have a headache---Oi! They're mine! Don't touch them! Put that back!"

Gojo squinted his heavenly eyes behind his sunglasses, cautious for the minimal strength he was exerting whilst he ceased you halfway from popping the sweetmeat in your mouth. The latter had caught sight over the polarity of your hand sizes when he'd swiftly caught your wrist.

How impulsive can you be around Gojo Satoru?

"B-But, I MADE THESE! ME! I DID! I deserve a piece! Come on! Just one piece!" You've struggled here and there. A push and pull---well, it was rather a stoppage of your deliberate schemes. The goal was as pointless as a cat trying to walk on the opposite side of an escalator. The amount of strength you were using to stuff down your own cooking had been brimful already and Satoru wasn't even budging even in the slightest.

"And I'm paying everything for your shopping spree, Tiny-Chan!"

From his surprising proclamation over such---his sudden honesty that deserved a flip of your hair---you've taken an upbeat, dramatic pause. The ends of your lips churning in an assertive smile. The mental images running inside your head had been a twerking mess who was probably hitting the damned 'woah' for the notable achievement.

Your sweetmeat has been utmost noteworthy and impressive enough to have Satoru hushed and grinning to the sides because of the comical expression on your face when you began responding to his declaration.

"Oh." you impassively stated, sighing a loud one in relief as you quirked a poised brow back at him, clearing your throat to also calm the smites playing with your heart strings when you've heard Satoru expressing his wonted chortles that always leaves you lightheaded.

"These are all yours then, Satoru! Say ah!~"

Before the ink is dry on the page, you've raised the mushy mochi ice cream to his grinning mouth, catching him off-guard and anticipating this warm gesture a lot less because you had been quite uncomfortable to his presence since that moment he allowed you to see what hid behind his mask. You've offered the piece with an amiable smile---a lot too benign for Satoru's fancies of your rejoinders, the saccharine intonation of your voice over how you were trying to feed him your sweet-dish, caught him mentally stumbling over his own footing when he was hardly known for it to happen.

It was probably not the greatest idea to peer before you over his abnormally tinted Stygian sunglasses because he had distinguished everything as if you were cynosure to his six-eyes.

Through everything, Satoru meant every single execrated thing that had been bittersweet on the tips of his tongue. From the slapdash tousling of your hair which seemed to be from the constant swiping of sweat along your forehead due to his thick uniform; the supple muscles along the apple of your cheeks that has tenderly given him the eye-crinkles all the while and till the crumbs of gluttonous Japanese rice flour smudged along your forehead because of how you've pull out all the stops upon concocting a sweet-dish that Satoru bribed you with.

His six-eyes was obviously screwing him for this one as he casted the perception aside, masking his own toothy grin before he'd felt the disruptive iffy of weird fickleness consume him again---one that was not meant to be felt nor should be---as he'd consumed the mochi piece that hung along your fingers with his mouth at a gallop.

Straightaway, the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer pulled his own chair as if he had been singed, tugging you along the overlapping sleeves of his own uniform, benevolently dragging you out of the kitchen with him as you've loudly exclaimed another round of your bleats from how the dishes weren't even done cleaning yet.

The birth of Gojo Satoru was meant to alter the balance of their world. Perhaps, your existence that was considered outrè for all---lived to actually ameliorate his own.

All this constant feeding from them both...*Rolls around while I cry myself to sleep* TINY-CHAN YOU LUCKY BISH---🤬😭🤬😭 Also, this chapter made me hungry af.

SHOPPING SPREE WITH SATORU THO 😭 *CRIES MORE* I can feel y'all mentally screaming 'Sugar Daddy' inside your heads--- Hope y'all enjoyed this long chapter! FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! HEEHEE!

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

Text

7th Dimension (Chapter 7.3)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 7.2

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) (I'm about to post chapter 7.7 there by the way. Heehee.)

Summary: (Part 4) 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 chapter: Gojo Satoru knew himself that he was attractive. Hence, it didn't help that he had somehow caught to be in a heap of women surrounding him from the moment you've entered the store. Howbeit, this didn't stop how he'd notice that you've been casted to the side, a woman who intentionally bumped upon your shoulders. The simple stroll away from you churning an intolerable feeling inside that made him apprehensive somehow.

Warnings: The word 'fuck'. Brief mention of Geto. Women just hating your existence because 'y/n' is one lucky bish. Satoru being loud as heck. This chapter made me squeal somehow because...Satoru? (I don't wanna spoil anything. Just go read this chapter. Heehee.) FLUFFY because of certain scenes?

A/N: My back is hurting right now for writing advance chapters. Heehee. Also, THIS HAS BEEN ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS IN THIS LONG CHAPTER. ENJOY! (I'm wondering why I can't copy and paste words anymore from my own Tumblr posts. What is this update?)

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

Words: 5.4k+

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits are not mine. I only own the plot of 7th Dimension. 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 my understanding and how I want them to be.

TO SAY THAT SATORU IS ATTRACTIVE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN UNDERSTATEMENT. Without all the exclamation point highlighting symbols that should've been included in the phrase diminished the whole notion like a homespun verdict because the amount of attention that people has been giving towards the man whom you were with apt to have the expletives that surrounded the scale of enchantment that Gojo Satoru held for his existence.

The man made it entirely obvious that he had been accustomed to the profound attention just by strolling around the mall, reveling in the recognition from the amount of people who were sustaining his deep-seated self-esteem which catered a lot of his piled up pomposity over the gospel truth with every nanosecond and every ogle.

He was damn enticing to have everyone's heed on him, it went faraway enough to have women---a herd of them suddenly girdling around to have his attention on them alone as they began to offer him their numbers straight from the shoulder as if you haven't existed to their line of sight. Perhaps, their intrusion were of the definite time to be apprised of how you were clutching onto his hand like a lassie who was bound to get lost in the mall.

It made you suddenly self-aware of how you acted upon your spontaneity. The chumminess of deed you've somehow reacted on a whim.

The realization dawned on you when you've cleverly slithered passed through the flocks of women, your existence shrinking from the beautiful dames who made it clear that they did not want you around when one had to collide upon your shoulder, casting a shadow upon being there.

Although, the antipathy of that particular woman---which ended with you, apologizing for her intentional actions instead that Gojo heard and detested for your deprecatory talk of rot. She actually had implicated a volitional act towards the idea that Satoru came in with you---her petty hostility actually hadn't been overlooked by the white-haired sorcerer because from the moment you've squirmed out of the palsy-walsy physical contact that he obviously felt; the absence of your fingers buried against his large ones---his detailed line of vision had him following; supervising on which section of the store you've sought after and chose to bask in your own solitude rather than be the murk on his reign of spotlight.

Each step you took as you strolled away to be shrouded from the crowd, he found it suddenly intolerable---repellant over the mental picture as if it had been a moment he'd already experienced before and detested his companions' turning their backs away from him.

Satoru's beam momentarily went minimal at that, thoroughly reckoning and holding his gaze for you in sight. But, he regained his composure once again when a newfangled, bonny, foxy damsel had endeavored for his attention, striving to not leave the store without slipping her details nor making an impression for Gojo that she was daring enough and desired to have him around---well, for the most part, this sultry dame wanted to have her way with him.

The woman was attractive. Single. Pretty from head to toe who seemed to be debauched for one night stands.

Gojo was a man whom had his own needs as well.

Of course, they had to exchange numbers. That was what he always does---it was what he needed to do. A chore that was expectant from the Sensei himself. The corybantic repetitive routines that he gladly associates and delights himself whenever he had the time and whenever he wanted.

Back on the days, he would. Those juvenile times, the prurient curiosities that he had most during his heydays or the days that could be considered as the best years of his life with Suguru Geto on his side.

Yet, this present time; the one considered to be his on top of his prime. Those dalliances he had and have been having gradually decreased. Though, in all aspects does he not revel in every once in a while.

You knew he'd entertained each and every one of them. Much as you've assessed, critically judged and interpreted his character in a much more on the unfettered side because of the perception of personality and sense of aggression and virility he rejoices in.

Albeit, despite accepting the reality that Satoru would and eventually give heed to them. Your mind was celebrating for finally being away from the man himself even if it would've been painstakingly just a minute or so. This subconsciousness you had---that inner voices were telling you how horrid and disrespectful these women were for shunning you away like trash when you were the one whom Satoru had obviously came in with.

The audacity they had.

Unbeknownst to you, the scowl etched to your face says how your mind and subconsciousness had an exchange of views when you started searching for what you wanted until Gojo finally realizes it was time to make your hackle's rise once again.

"Tiny-Chan," Gojo stated flatly, sounding downright bored to heck when he instantly knew where you were hiding like a dum-dum, just behind a rack filled of multi-colored checkered long sleeved polo shirts. He concealed his amusement through a feigned undertone of his voice. Even without opening an eye, Satoru could sense where you were hiding and he had surprisingly yanked the clothing away from your face, igniting a high-pitch squeak from the moment you were welcomed by those special Stygian sunglasses he wore.

"Is this how you really pick your clothing? You hide behind them? Is this the new trend?"

Your mouth twitched in displeasure when you've noticed a pair of high-school students intentionally pass by Satoru behind him. They were thinking that you were trying to act adorable for the Jujutsu Sorcerer which is why you've gained a stink-eye.

Oh, they were really annoying.

This has been the most memorable---dreadful day where people had given you a thoroughgoing recognition over your own existence. Back in your dimension, it wasn't entirely exaggerated to the point that it felt too unrealistic to gain their vituperations just by being accompanied by a guy---a male who was as pretty as a picture. It was scathing to a degree that you would technically know that their opinions they held for you were either critical over your physical aspects or adjudicating who you actually were for the Jujutsu Sorcerer.

One could conclude that some of their prudence had the notion that you were his step-child, considering the sweeping height-differences and Satoru's evident scale of charm that filled the bucket beyond normal, filling it over through one's highest scale of marketability.

It also didn't help that he was salient and garish over acting as a financer, haphazardly throwing sets of clothes towards you, downright disinterested if it could consist an arm or a leg. It didn't go unnoticed by Gojo but he'd seen you be on the sly for hanging the clothing back---the ones you obviously would like but chewed over the price tag because it was an overpriced one.

People made it obvious that they weren't hypercritical enough to presume that you were his sugar-baby, making it clear that the kind of amorous entanglement didn't seem to fit for you. Hence, which is why they've settled into thinking that you were a stepdaughter or his stepsister.

"Whenever you're near me. They're also around." you huffed, tugging the clothing back from Satoru and encircling them around your body to melt from the softness of it. Maybe, you would want a piece because of the soft fabric that it actually gives.

You pulled a face before stepping out under the racks, checking the price tag and smiling one you've estimated the digits inside your head as the pricing where in the amount of Japanese Yen. "---Can't you make them stop?"

Satoru stood alongside, his phone on his other hand as he twirled it around his fingers, aimlessly spinning it out of ennui, "Thought you wanted me around?" his reply was curt, eyeing you pick what color you were of penchant of. He'd glossed over his gauges to his own head, guessing you would choose the black and white one and the latter had been on the right track for that. You were solely heedless that he was mindlessly doing it because of how his mouth constantly blathered what he wanted to say, no matter how churlish or unambiguous it was.

"---I wasn't the one pulling my own hand from the moment we got here, so you might as well deal with it."

You've wandered through an aisle, momentarily drifting your gaze from the hanging pile of clothing and peering up towards Gojo from time to time. Those blest beauty of orbs already on you as if he was intent onto giving all his ears for you after being neglected a while ago due to the hamper of women that practically threw themselves on his feet from the moment they'd seen him. You've swallowed the ball of self-consciousness that started picking up once again when he made it seem like you were apprising him a story that he was dead interested for. Or it was because you were giving him the perception of mindlessly nourishing his self-image without even being aware of it.

"Well, you're attracting a lot of customers. Herds of them. I can't actually pick what I want when I could get a hold of their explicative buzzes of unintelligible language and non-verbal death stares. "

Your neck strained to actually give him your attention, his entirety; his lanky, gargantuan height actually stressing you down. Your subconsciousness wanting to ask him how the weather was up there, yet you've resisted the urge to speak it out because you knew he would rise to the bait upon giving you a 'how's the weather down there, Tiny-Chan? You havin' fun down in hell?' in hopes of kindling a scowl off your face that he would surely take a rowdy laugh through it all.

Satoru's tone was idly quelled for the first time, modulated to the point that it sounded pleasant and that it felt like he was at one's ease with the time he was spending with you, "Which is why I've told you to choose the expensive shops then. It has lesser people there. You would've strolled freely then," he genially admonished, an irregular timbre that held a tinge of softness that made you blink twice because of how random he suddenly seemed.

The way he softly scolded through your dogged determination of choosing a reasonable mid-range store got the best of you that it had your mind skipping through a trap that made you go absentminded. It sounded pleasant---utterly as nice as pie. You knew it was probably just a delusion of his physical existence because Gojo started to blow his own trumpet for the next words that slipped out of his mouth, "Also, It can't be helped when you're with a very attractive man---," he smugly grinned before he continued, snapping a finger over your face which has gotten you to cease from your aimless wandering in the middle of the aisle, "---You had the privilege to choose anything you wanted. You're wasting the opportunity, I say."

You've shook your head, declining the persuasion and not wanting to indulge yourself from the immoderate chain stores that Gojo has been enticing you in. Being entirely sheepish of the prices it offered. "It's making me uncomfortable. Go entertain them again or something."

Much to your dismay, Satoru was already hell-bent on keeping you company and decided that this time was intended for you instead. He gave a resolute purse of his lips, pretending to think about it before a cordial smile lifted his face in which you haven't seen because of how concentrated you were upon what catches your eye.

"Eh. You might as well ignore them."

"Satoru~?" In the midst upon searching through hangered racks of clothes, you've halted betwixt your torpid rummages. Somehow, the greeting seemed to be of a coltish drawl from you. Yet, this reached his ears in a treacly cadence which had been highly perceptible to his hearing. You were caught uttering it surprisingly soft-spoken enough for him to see this through an unusual finding that stirred a zany response of a hum that vibrated through his chest---it sounded cloying which was difficult to bear especially when he'd surprised you by bending over to your side and acted upon the caprices of his comprehension, leaning down closer to you and literally lending his ear to hear you better.

"Hm?~ What is it?"

A clandestine instance that got the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer over his mindless reasoning that had been unforthcoming. Satoru wanted to hear it again from you, secretively eager as he was thoughtless for this odd discovery that he never realized that his responses had been---affectionate.

Howbeit, the abrupt amicable rapport had been ruined from the moment he'd felt you gesturing to wear his blindfolds. Satoru didn't even need to look at you just for him to know that you were hopeful he would wear his blindfolds again. Was it the fact that you hated how everyone seemed to grant their heed to the both of you or was it simply because of how your knees felt like jelly whenever he provides you the attention that everybody desperately desired from him?

Gojo quickly straightened his back like he'd been cauterized. His face expressive as he pulled a face, taking a dim view of the idea you wanted. This was a turn up for the books because you had never seen him entirely scowl until this time of the day, openly stating as clear as day that your pigheaded demands actually displeased him. He hadn't came into his senses that he brought his fingers through his hair in an attempt to brush them off away from his face as he responded thickly, "No, no and no. How many times should I say no?" the latter pressed on, spinning on his heels to at least purposelessly provide you a definite amount of space that he has been consuming from you.

"---You hated how I was blindfolded all the time. I figured you would want me using my sunglasses while I guide you around Tokyo,"

"Well, that was before I never believed you with the...sketches you were telling me," The ends of your words were trailed off, skeptical that you wanted to admit it to the man. With each word that passed by sounded distant as you took this as an opportunity to walk through the other section of the aisle, briskly wandering with the random clothes that hung over your arms.

You actually believed him now then?

Satoru heard it loud and clear, crystal. He had to turn around to see that you weren't there anymore. As luck would have it, his height made it easier to find you through the heaps of customers that began to abundantly grow since the moment you've both entered the establishment. "Wait, wait. You actually believe me now?"

"---OI! TINY-CHAN!~" Gojo shamelessly hollered, grinning like a maniac as he was enthusiastically snapping his head from left to right. The latter was cock-a-hoop over your immediate admission. This was the initial sign of defeat. A big K.O. This sudden admittance from the attempts of refusing to be bested by Satoru's smooth talking and impractical ways of showing you evidences that he was exactly the person drawn on those papers you had.

He was quick to find you on the other aisle and actually took a run for it like a bonehead. His smile consisting of his pearly whites that shone through the store's light, reflecting in a way that brightened up his face as he resoundingly chanted his nickname for you out loud. Satoru's mirthful calling that resonated all around the store that people obviously heard made you awkwardly scratch your temple in an attempt to cover yourself from his own garishness.

A woman began eyeing you from the side, perceiving that she knew you were the person whom Gojo was trying to having your attention on. This member of the fair sex who was also fetching enough for any man but had her personality crafted from hell---the woman who had been stalking around for some time now in which you were oblivious from her surreptitious tailings by dint of Satoru's talks of draw aways.

You were entirely ignorant that this was the woman who'd intentionally bumped you hard enough when you've slithered out of Satoru's hold. Albeit, this resulted with Satoru who'd completely intendedly ignored her futile attempts of gaining his attention.

Which is why she was giving you the mental eye rolls right now, glaring at you from the sides as she was arm-to-arm away, grabbing this opportunity to be a chatter through you as she plastered a phony smile in attempts to probably be the bridge to acquire what she wanted from the white-haired sorcerer.

Women. Satoru silently thought to himself, his posture poised and firm, leaning his weight on both of his feet with his hands inside his pockets. Observing the scene from the other end of the aisle with a smirk on his face and over his deep Stygian sunglasses, absolutely finding this as an opportunity for levity.

He'd taken another run for it; another run for you as he called for your sobriquet at the top of his voice, his tee-hees escaping here and there, "Hi, Tiny-Chaaaaan! You know you're never getting rid of me after what I just heard from you! Hehehe!"

Satoru's overdramatic venture and war cries churned a more thorough veiling of your palms enclosed around your face as if you weren't accompanied by the guy. He made it obvious. The raucous attitude that he also has was already written inside that invisible note inside your mind, ticking the imaginary box that Satoru was indeed a loud guy that even his actions were thespian---dramatic to the point that if he wanted to act this certain way, he will and he would. Wordlessly, Satoru made it limpid that there was no stopping him no matter what happens even in times like this.

His muscled, compact weight and height took a dramatic slide, his priceless Adidas squeaking along the waxed, shiny floors of the store as if he skated on ice. Gojo's sudden next move making your heart freeze; your lungs opted to make you breathless from the bolt of surprise. An acute eye-opener that has gotten your palms sweaty and those strident drum beats crawling out of your chest from such an intimate gesture that you did not anticipate of.

Satoru sprinted from the side and halted once he could glide along. His lanky limbs threaded across your hips with all possible haste before you could even say knife. He'd acted like a bat out of hell as he had surrounded and occupied all possible personal space that you considered to be unbearable.

Gojo-feckin'-Satoru did that. He really did.

The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer acted upon his frolic impulse to get that bitch away from you without even thinking the position that he brought you both in.

He went on clutching onto you as if you were a piece of confectionery that he ought not to share merely because of the inane triumph that signaled and fed onto his mirth.

This has been like the moment that Itadori had told them that Megumi was being hit on by a woman that they've acted upon their foolish reflexes without even thinking of the consequences.

Gojo's arms engulfed you from the side. It was evident that he was a tall, vigorous man as lanky as he may seem through the clothing he wore. There was definite robust muscles that were veiled beneath his smothered uniform that he always have been garbed in. His arms were firm like adamantine chains, shocking you to say the least when your reflexes reached for what enveloped around you---for who was wrapping you up in a jolting embrace.

"Oof! Fuck!" The only time---this was the only damned time that you had cursed out loud while using your native language and it was because of Gojo Satoru.

You were beyond knocked for six because of the deed. Thus, the senses you've felt that were heightened since the time he'd tightly grasped onto that forbidden personal proximity that he seemed to not restrict himself in was not helping either because your mind was caught in a haywire of bliss and daze, feeling him even get to point that Satoru had wholly bent his height to recite your nickname like a chirpy prayer over your ear, his warm breath skimming pass your skin like a leaf swaying in the balmy days of late summer. The all-familiar fragrance that drafted through your nose, established upon your intuits by now because of the faint traces it left around Satoru's dormitory room which haunts you in a daydream each night.

What came with those intangible sensory of realization was also a considerable amount of shame because of how you were caught with his weight when he managed to slide to catch you in his arms. Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was intent upon it---bumping unto the bitch using his infinity so the collision was more compressed and solidified. A petty thought of disrelishing the fact that his body would touch hers as if she was a microbe to him gave Satoru the grimace.

This experience for her was rather much of a stone being thrown to a brick wall.

"S-Satoru! What the heck is wrong with you!" you whisper-shouted, utterly startled by his rash behavior as you tried to stare at the racks of clothing that hung before you. Choosing the front line of your vision because if you looked anywhere, it was either you're choosing to face the woman from hell who stumbled as far as to falling her ass to the ground due to Gojo's heavy weight that collided with hers or his face that was in a dangerous proximity which would surely keep you awake at night.

"---Y-You've made me bump into her!"

Gojo mouth has been a thumb away from your ear. His tone of reassurance downright mischievous and sham like he had been aware of it. Thus, his silvery Japanese lilt danced along his intentional ignorance as he spoke along your ear, breath fanning against your skin which has thrown you more off- balance.

"Ah. Hold on. Did we really?" He gave a low-chuckle, the vibrations of his sonorous titters hurtled straight to your ears, passing straight to your wake and heedless reverie, prior as he went on with his act, "---Where is she? I didn't see her, though."

Satoru pretended to be oblivious and went all the way into standing tall again, unbending his height to a degree that made him look out in the line of aisles as if he couldn't find the hell-cat who was scrambling onto her feet, utmost mortified for the disgrace brought to her. She'd only plummeted right in front of you both and Gojo behaved as if she wasn't there at all. His lanky arms were still persistent from wounding it around you but loosening in the slightest. Yet, still keeping you close and in his arms. All the blood rushing from your fidgeting toes till the affixed staggered expression on your face; eyes unblinking with a mind that went straight to Disneyland at once.

You were entirely avoiding all eye-contact.

His heavenly eyes apathetically landed on her, the intensity of his gaze turned intimidating for a normal person to handle especially that she had been in the middle of being browbeaten by the Jujutsu Sorcerer's unequivocal, curt responses that went along his prearranged dramaturgy. Eventually, Satoru brought your rigid body and dumbfounded state to his side, snaking an audacious arm around your shoulders that felt leaden from the amount of weight he had.

Gojo yanked you closer, being the shepherd along his playacts as he wanted you to be the sheep. He'd sluggishly given her his gaze, giving her the attention that she desired from him but has obviously been the opposite of what she yearned for. She was a lot taller than you. Hence, Satoru only had to cock his head, channeling a lot more of his hubristic side to this woman as he reckoned her appearance by lowering his Stygian Sunglasses to reveal the acuity he was giving for her pompous acts.

"Get lost then?" the latter spoke nonchalantly, a cheeky grin from ear to ear as he added with a wink, "---you're standing way too close anyway."

She wasn't needed to be told twice after undergoing the intensity of his hectors. The hasty switch that women hardly ever encounter as they were blinded by his outstanding magnetism. Those terse, derogatory statements that were exclusively for the elders that stresses the fuck out of him all the time.

The woman was not needed to be told twice like an idiot. She heard him loud and clear. He even had to made it apparent to the people who passed by that he was as flagrant as he always was.

"T-That was rude. Did you really have to say that to her?" you've stammered and finally stumbled out of your own trance, still highly sensible of Satoru's arm that hung loosely around your shoulder like a bag of rice. The woman's words perceptible enough to tell that she probably called him an 'asshole' underneath her breath as she shunned away with shame that will haunt her forever like a cursed-spirit lulling her to sleep for tonight. Gojo was bold enough to bid her a mirthful sayonara, waving his large palms at her while he watched her go, giggling to himself.

He'd heard you grouse for treading the boards of her perpetual maneuverings to get him.

Satoru blew a raspberry like a child as he was beginning to grow weary over taking a lot of time through your garment reconsiderations, "What. I have a lousy personality---," he started to stroll, taking you with him as his arm was still stuck to your side. You were contemplating if he planned to even wretch them away already since the whole playing pretend had been already done for. Yet, Gojo was disregardful of your mindless fidgets here and there. He seemed to be restful enough to flout the new position he hurdled you in, "---She couldn't get the hint. You also told me to make them stop so you could choose whatever you want and we could get the hell outta' here."

Passing along an aisle he noticed that you had already wandered through, Satoru surveyed the racks of clothing till he halted before an apparel that you've taken a second look at---probably the fourth already for some time now. It was prior to this certain moment that he'd caught you mentally calculating how much it was worth, the attire being put back along the racks because of your diffidence towards the extravagant pricing. You pondered why he half way took a pause upon his ambles and realized you've stopped before the garment you have been eyeing for a while now.

Straightaway, he'd chosen the color that you've wanted andhad a fancy for. His odd attentiveness leaving you speechless because he was already well-informed to the tones that you were penchant of. Satoru did not seem to be like a man who was conscious and thoughtful of the smallest details, he conveyed that he did not seem to care a lot for anything. In fact, he seemed to put an appearance of a guy that was a walking redflag because of his hostility on the subject of commitments.

"After this, we're choosing the higher ends." the white-haired sorcerer casually stated out in the open, sounding like it was of ordinance. He threw the clothing over your head, covering your sole vision and having the perspective of darkness from his haphazard toss, "---I'm putting you on blindfolds. You've been taking a whole lotta' time upon choosing which is which when I don't care about the price anyway."

"N-No! I'm still choosing the cheap ones and I'm not using your blindfolds!" you've declared and complained under the clothing, shaking your head and shrinking at the thought that you'll actually be strolling along luxury retail stores that probably costed the earth. There was no visual of Satoru who was mischievously grinning to himself. However, you knew he was through the taunting pitch of his voice that laced along the words, "Oh, the irony. Don't you think? You want me blindfolded while you, Tiny-Chan---" he took a breather, sniggering at the sides. "---Don't want to be blindfolded. How unfair of you."

Satoru was a damned mystery in your life. The rarity of the condition where his physical, newfangled advances that leaves your skin tingling in hanker for more or anxious for such an unfamiliar warmth that was bothersome to your whole being. Throughout such a short time, he could turn it amicable if he wanted to like a port in a storm of raging, disparate desires that you never knew could be experienced nor felt.

You must have been color-blinded then for stepping over the red tiles.

"IT'S BECAUSE I'LL LITERALLY BE BLIND IF I DO, UNLIKE YOU!"

You loudly scoffed to his impractical suggestion, tugging off the garment that covered your line of sight with a glower. You've tried your hardest to free yourself from the heavy arm that hung around your shoulder. Thus far, he never allowed you to and wanted to cross the other end of the rainbow, provoking you further and further till he could see the peeved leprechauns that would've been galled of the naked truth that he had probably stole the gold.

Satoru had a puckish toothy grin, chuckling here and there when he'd felt you whirl over his loosening hold, a brow raised to his utter glee from how rankled you've guised to be. He knew he was deriving satisfaction from the exasperation running through your veins, those once stiff muscles modified into the fellow feeling that he opted for you to have for him.

Notwithstanding that you had to open your precious, refractory, little mouth in spitting down another set of bundled native comments that pulled a gurn off his grin, sounding absolutely like a flippant remark without even getting to understand everything. You were striving to be of valiant. Downright bold to lift a reprimanding finger right on his clothed chest as you murmured in a whispering spat.

"Tch. You're a walking red flag who's been playing with my head and heart. How dare you."

Did he read the tone right?

Satoru had to raise a questioning brow. He was utmost wary that he wanted you to repeat what you just said to him and he was hating over how this was making him look like a fool and also building the urge---a vehement urge some type of way that made him grumble beneath his chest.

He swiftly held onto your reprimanding finger that he obviously permitted for you to touch, his hand thoroughly engulfing yours as he gently swatted them away with a raised brow, "Aren't you just so stubborn?" he lowly quipped, skeptical that you would use it for the fourth time today before he went on with his playful chides, "---I told you not to speak your native language while I'm around! What did you just say now? Tell me---!" Satoru reached down to pinch your cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, the constant usage of your native language driving him to distraction as he added more vigor to the gesture. He even added a little pull of your skin which has gotten you kicking up a fuss because it actually hurts.

"---Tell me, Tiny-Chan! I'm not going to shut up until you do!"

You were loudly whining in pain, pushing his hands away but never finding the definite amount of strength to as Satoru has given you the verdict that your intentional, balky chaffs were in actuality, bothering the strongest. The Gojo Satoru. "You never shut up anyway!" you've exclaimed with a sally, feeling his fingers tighten on your cheek a lot more than he could ever, making you wince because you knew it was bound to be swollen anytime now.

"S-Satoru! It's Nothing! Seriously! Ah--! Stop it! It hurts!"

He'd pulled the skin further, his eyes lighting up as it crinkled along the edges. A warmhearted laugh escaping his chest as he was unaware of how hearty it sounded to be. His gaze glinted in fascination as he feasted one's eye upon your beseeching squirms through his touch.

"You just look exactly like those Mochi Ice cream you've made for me. So cute!"

I'm not used to the new update that Tumblr has given us via desktop version. AAAAAAAAAAAAAH. Anyway, hope anyone's enjoying this! FEEDBACKS ARE SO SO MUCH APPRECIATED!

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

Text

7th Dimension (Chapter 5.1)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 5

7TH DIMENSION MASTERLIST

7TH DIMENSION WATTPAD LINK (I'm always one chapter ahead in this website)

Summary: Gojo had finally brought you back to your country which has been entirely different from the start. Your theories has been a futile mess because it felt like you've never existed on their world at all. You truly were, indeed---non-existent after all the obvious evidences that their world has slapped you in the face with.

Warnings: Gojo Satoru. (I mean, he's a warning right? LMAO.) Cuss words. The word 'dicks', dildos and carnal tools---this is not a smut chapter ISTG 😭🤣 It's meant for...Ah, y'all will understand me once you read this chapter. 🤣 Brief mention of Star Plasma Vessel and Suguru Geto's name. I was laughing when I was writing this from the start then kicking a foot over my laptop and prolly staring out of nowhere because it came out quite...saddening in the end. Satoru has no idea over your native language whenever you speak of it. I've made it that way because I *cough* plan to use it for smut chapter purposes which is why...his dialogue or short perspective had been quite...suggestive. *coughs* If you squint hard enough. (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

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

A/N: Sometimes, I question why I intentionally bring myself into these kind of pain...LMAO. Also, this chapter is a mess of laughter and tears. Also, I kind of want to give Nanami a break---he just wants to rest yo and he's still tagging along---LMAO This has been one of my fave chapters written so far heehee

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SUPER-DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED! IT GIVES ME MUCH MOTIVATION AND INSPO!

Words: 6.3k+ (Kinda long chapter? Heehee)

EVERYONE SUPPRESSED THEIR OWN OPINIONS. Well, for the most part, Satoru wasn't.

It was certainly a balmy afternoon when you've arrived at your shop with them around. You were downright confident---as sanguine as Gojo ever was. The latter was huffing to himself, expressing his tee-hee's with every step, every determined thump of your footing along the pavements of your hometown. His chuckles here and there were received as a derision to prove how you were wrong all this time. Thus, even his posture, how he had his hands inside his pockets while grinning from ear to ear kept your heart keyed up to the anticipation building up, spiking your adrenaline and veins into your self-reliance.

The sound of cars honking from afar reverberated and claimed to be the music to everyone's ears. How hushed have you and Nanami been---how you have been. Gobsmacked. It felt like you've taken one large dive from the tallest building and falling face front upon the waters which felt like bricks hitting your face. Metaphorically speaking, it was that kind of inarticulation that your mind couldn't process because of shame being your number one enemy in this one.

You just couldn't believe nor can admit your defeat against Gojo Satoru. No. You just couldn't accept that you were feeding spoonful upon spoonful onto his growing ego.

One large placard hung with vivid, roseate and cerise neon blinding lights that sparkled under the sunbeams. Flamboyant to be noticed by people who were to pass by it considering what was being sold inside the shop. It's back ground was pitch black, accompanying a comprehensive font that were printed in bold letters that would catch the eyes of passer-bys.

You've tightly held your tongue---biting it even because of how you felt deplorable for your temporary credence upon entrusting this moment that you were entirely right all this time.

"You own a..." Gojo started out for everyone, spurning you into tightly closing your eyes, wanting to just disappear like a bubble and Nanami's silence wasn't helping the shame gathering upon your face, feeling the heat simmer like you were being cooked in an oven.

Without even letting him finish his train of thoughts, you've beat Satoru to it and loudly exclaimed in a huff, "I OWN A PASTRY SHOP! A DESSERT STORE OR WHATEVER!"

"---Pleasure Shop."

You can hear Satoru chuckling alongside as he'd observed the scandalous shop that stood before everyone, he was already patting himself on the back for being right. You just know and you were tempted to make him bald and also pat his floofy hair at the same time.

How infuriating and complex has your mind turned into?

"NO!" You squawked with tightly furrowed brows and clenched fists, seeming to be in a battle within yourself as this exclamation sounded like a call out for what you were actually feeling as of the moment. Utterly in a complicated state of ignominy and captivation for Satoru's existence in your life.

There was technically no in between ever since you've gotten involved with him and this was just the start of it.

Would you even get to survive in this state?

"Care to invite us in your...shop, Tiny-Chan?" Satoru dragged you out of your pondering, taking the mickey out of you for the fallacious claim that you were bound to be welcomed by your own Pastry shop called Chomp for Sweets.

You had no idea nor couldn't accept the fact that in their world, your supposed to be shop had it's own resemblance of a name that entirely had an absolute difference to the particular business that you had.

Their dimension was meant to give you revelations that was difficult to discern and comprehend.

You've felt your fists tightened further on your sides as you intently distinguished what the shop looked like. The shop being in a thoroughgoing perusal of your dubiety. Out of all businesses that were to built the red carpet for you, it just had to be filled with erotic apparatuses. Carnal tools that has raised the temperature of your body---going straight to your face with no doubt upon seeing diverse sets of Dildos displayed upon standees and layered cabinets on the sides as the sun shown lustrously, passing through the transparent windows that hindered between everyone. These prurient paraphernalia even had different shades, partnered with whips and chains that kept you voiceless in the midst of processing everything at hand.

Thus, the latter found this absolutely worth to be mentioned that he had cross his arms over his chest, raising his thumb over his chin as he was feigning as if he was engrossed at how engaging the shop's name was. Satoru was just pretending, you knew damn right he was because his intonation was filled with utter sarcasm, "Clump for Dicks. Huh. Interesting name." he nodded to himself, blinking behind his blindfolds and withholding the grin on his face as he delivered his sentence like a Jujutsu Sorcerer who had found and realized something clever through his abilities.

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CHOMP FOR SWEETS NOT CLUMP FOR DICKS!" you vociferated with a huff, going through a grumbling fit over how it happened because you've best believed that you still lived in the earth that you have lived in for years end.

Gojo Satoru expressed his unadulterated guffaws, boisterous enough for Nanami to take heed as he gave him the side-eye through his own sunglasses, features continuously apathetic. The strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer convulsed with laughter that made you want to just melt and vanish into thin air by the amount of belly laugh you were hearing from Satoru.

If he was blind then you wouldn't have been ridiculed this way, that small voice in your head thought behind your back. He should've been blind instead.

But, was he not? Really a blind person? It was pretty much better that he was.

His giggles gradually died down for a minute or two, unruffled by your vanquishment as Satoru entirely added it to his balloon of attainments. He'd eventually registered what you've said and how you'd do well with those domestic skills you had.

"Wait, did I hear you right? a pastry shop or dessert store? you know how to bake sweets and pastries?" Gojo genuinely gave a smile, turning his head to take a glimpse over your face which shielded their way, your hair being intentionally covered to save yourself from the embarrassment further. You hadn't seen how Satoru's face lit up at the realization to that, currently missing the opportunity that he was giving you a warm smile.

"---Oh, don't get started with breads. Nanamin here is practically loving the idea of it too!" he pointed at Nanami with a finger.

"I'm not." The 7:3 sorcerer quickly caviled at his admission, halfhearted including himself in the conversation.

"Sweets. Hehehe." You heard Gojo murmured next to you, making you snap his head at him, actually lifting a chin to fixate your perspective upon seeing how he was currently looking like and it has given you a frown because he appeared to be like he was still in a teasing fit.

"Why are you grinning like that?"

"You're not entirely useless, then." He grinned ever so widely, his pearly whites scintillating under the sunshine.

You weren't going to lie, his grin caught you off-guard at that. The way that you felt how your own ambience changed in a snap from how heartening his grins were sent made you blink to yourself. His words that went slower than usual through your ears because of those stupid smirks and grins he was giving you.

Did he really called you a useless shit?

"So, y-you were thinking I was useless the whole time?!" you've skeptically stammered over your words. Eyes all wide and stumbling over thoughts per thoughts whilst being distracted from how he took a side-step and ceasing in front of you to bend in level to your miniscule height with a twinkling smile.

Your heart was racing fast and you had no idea why it was reacting that way too soon.

You've completely dodged his advances, how he planned to loom and practically satirize over your loss. It was your fidgety toes and sweaty soles of your feet that had you hopping on the corner and away from Satoru when you've seen a fellow citizen who'd passed by the three of you, immediately taking this as a chance to be away from Satoru's dangerous habit of giving lack of proximities to people's faces.

This countryman who happened to pass by you was probably an angel. A savior to your poor soul that needed thorough help.

Satoru's vision followed through your sudden movements and sidestep, seeming to be like you were avoiding his confrontation of multiple chaffs. He was about to take a step closer to chase through your shadows over communicating with a national when he'd felt Nanami held onto his shoulder, keeping him still as he abruptly asked a question about Sukuna's finger which was out of the blue.

In all likelihood, Nanami probably felt how you were beginning to be overwhelmed by everything. From having no idea as to what was happening, being on the dumps over your expectations turning into profound disappointments and to the idea of Satoru's overwhelming presence.

"Excuse me," you've reached out towards the man dressed in a plain, orange tee and black jeans. Your mouth deftly switching languages as you sent him a hopeful smile, deliberately ignoring Nanami and Gojo in the background as if they were strangers. Also, you knew for a fact that this compatriot would find Satoru peculiar with how he brought himself compared to Nanami who appeared to give the impression that he was a normal business man.

The fellow citizen ceased from taking a stroll, turning his back to be met by your hopeful eyes and teetering smile, "Yes?" He'd acknowledged with a sociable tone in between his words, "When has this been a pleasure shop?" You swiftly added as a question, gesturing behind you as you've chased this fellowman a few meters away from the Pleasure Shop. He showed signs that his eyes diverted towards the two men whom you were with, knowing they probably treaded on the heels, hearing their voices from behind.

"Uhm," the man started, paying heed to Gojo's anomalous presence and appearance. Your smile turned wobbly, the corner of your mouth twitching as you tried to block his view upon trying to perceive who Satoru was so he won't be frightened off to answer none to your questions. Though, much to your dismay, your height deceived you into believing that you were bound to cover his point of view.

"What's up with that blindfolded guy---Oh, a-around a year already," The man began to mumble, thoroughly catching sight of Satoru's poised posture, his shoulders straightened enough to exhibit his deep-seated confidence with his hands inside his pockets as he kept a tab on the both of you behind his mask, Satoru's mouth in an earnest shape of his lip as if he conveyed utter attentiveness and uncanny delight.

To Gojo's surprise and utter bafflement, he somehow was incomprehensible of the one you were of origin. Hence, the native language you were also proficient on. He was obviously not exempted towards that.

Nevertheless, Satoru made it obvious that he wasn't complaining nor did he even wanted to.

"Oh. Alright, thank you---" you've smiled another, yet to be met by the man's back in less than a second as the citizen seemed to be in a rush for skipping out of the conversation he was in. Your smile faltered and fell at that when you've seen him briskly walk away, "---so much, Sir. Great. The blindfolded idiot scared him off."

"Gojo," Nanami began to acknowledge, sighing and using his surname as he addressed soberly. He examined his friend from beneath his peculiar sunglasses, getting a load that Satoru was musing in a suspicious gratification that he was wallowing in the idea of your bilingualism. In no circumstances that the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer comprehended a thing which likely lead to his unanticipated jouissance.

"----You're looking awfully strange."

"Strange might not be the accurate word, Nanamin." Satoru intrepidly stood corrected, still inhabiting his satirizing nature as he appended a nickname that always made his friend scowl on the side. No doubt that Kento emitted a sapped sigh again. To his oblivious thoughts, Gojo began to blabber his unconsciousness from beneath his breath, thoroughly engrossed in the conversation you were having with one of your countryfolks. He'd wrench his hands out of his pockets, purposelessly playing with his own fingers as both palms were flattened together as a way that seemed to be like he was ruminating over something unaccountable, "---So, that's how she sounds like with her native language,"

You've never paid heed to the people who was now towering behind, the discovery of living in a dimension that was yours still kept your heart at bay---worried for what and why you were there in the first place when you couldn't remember a thing or two. Especially with what Satoru has been persisting you to take part in.

Could you even remember what he was trying to let you hark back to when you had no idea what it was?

Or maybe you just haven't started yet? Would there be a moment where you'll start remembering things? When will your amnesia be wise enough to operate into recollecting details about the sketches that he has been pertaining to?

"I can still feel you both judging me," you grumbled to yourself as you took a step forward, hearing their light footfalls following behind.

"I hardly am one to judge unless the idea is impractical. But, Satoru definitely is." Nanami stated bluntly, his tone gruff and low as if he was already drained by the whole vacation thing that he was forced or dragged in.

You've treaded faster, walking briskly. Nevertheless, their pace began to match yours as well as if you weren't bound to leave their sight. Well, it was mostly Gojo's heavy, large strides that were echoing from a few meters away. Your height never helping your rapidity upon walking, "Oi," Satoru called out as you intentionally ignored him, "Tiny-Chan!" he hollered in a sing-song voice, consciously neglecting the 7:3 sorcerer on the side whilst Gojo successfully walked alongside with you, haphazardly reaching out to poke the side of your cheek which has made your heart jump from the odd need for physical touch.

You've actually and minimally jumped through your brisk walking, entirely inattentive that he would indeed be bold enough to prod your cheeks like he was already obliged to do so. Satoru was profoundly oblivious to his own actions, paying no heed to it as if he was not making your heart race miles per hour.

"Tiny-Chan." His tone turned flat when you've quickened your pace, sparing you a glance to see you acting like he wasn't there in the first place, "---Where are you going?"

Gojo put the brakes upon catching up with you, falling behind Nanami as he finally have been walking alongside with him. "Angie's home! STOP FOLLOWING ME AROUND AND LEAVE ME ALONE! GO FIND SOME STUFF-TOY CURSES FOR ALL I CARE!" You yelled as you jogged towards a street and began to take a sharp right turn, knowing you were still going to be tailed behind by these Jujutsu Sorcerers in which you've gotten to be tied up with.

Kento came to a halt, standing beside Gojo as he held onto the head of his necktie, his fingers wandering along his dotted cravat, his temples traced with creases which showed how he was turning peevish as hours passed by especially that he was being a fly on the wall for the both of you.

"Are we really going to tail on this woman around a country we don't know?" he phlegmatically questioned.

Gojo stopped walking, sighing from your uncompromising stance over the issue. Howbeit, the Jujutsu Sorcerer knew that you were bound to come back with them by hook or by crook. He probably just wasn't as compelling and credible as much as people would see of him---as much as everyone did, "What's wrong with that? It's not like curses lurk around this town. It's not like we won't be able to handle them either. We're Jujutsu Sorcerers. You're even with the strongest one." he gave him a shrug of his broad shoulders, beginning his moseys to where you've went.

Nanami strolled alongside, the heels of his business shoes gingerly tapping along the pavements, "You know I don't work overtime. I hate it." he paused, taking a breather as they've taken a right turn to where they've seen you screaming your heart out in front of a washed out, metal gate. The urbanized, tall, waxen walls confining the house of whoever lived there, earning no way for another person to climb onto. A thorough contrast to the houses in Japan would've been.

"---If you want to act like a creepy puppy around this woman, then go. As far as I remembered, I didn't come back in being a Jujutsu Sorcerer to escort non-sorcerers around the world."

"Eh! Just enjoy this abrupt vacation, Nanamin!" Satoru enunciated with a satisfied beam, clasping both hands around his mouth as he raucously raised his voice, taking a few steps closer but keeping at least a distance away, "---Oi, Give it up, Tiny-Chan!"

You've heard Satoru's voice from a distance. The way your knuckles were hastily pounding over the metal gates---how discouraged you were from the bombshells coming in hot. One by one, they were like darts being tossed in the air, always landing on bullseye whenever you were given the corroboration of realism. "Angie? Angie! Open up the door! I'm starting to hate you now! You left me with a crazy Jujutsu Sorcerer, shaman, exorcist or whatever who probably knows how to manipulate my brain into believing he has superpowers!" You pounded on the metal doors, yelling through your native language as you knew that Nanami and Satoru fathomed nothing in return, "I think he drugged me or something because he's actually fast, strong, irritating at times---though, I hardly find it annoying because my mind is telling me that he's not sometimes---also, a knockout but he doesn't need to know that because he's an arrogant, cocky, lofty man!"

Was the last idea necessary to be said? You had no idea, nor did your mouth cease you from screaming out your maunders over your first impression and ideas of Gojo Satoru. An outlandish man whom made it difficult to believe through this fairytale or nightmare that you were living in. "These crazies actually have superpowers and I don't?!---Angie!" you've pounded again and again, your mind forcing you to trust that your friend might open the gates and welcome you with open arms.

Yet, you were wrong. Again. Fate was definitely preaching fire and brimstone pragmatisms over a newly found dimension that you were brought in.

He was senile. An elderly. Long in the tooth with his back bent due to being old. Bald even and inflamed from the sudden, rowdy interruption from your standpoint. The feeble man forcefully tugged the gates open, striking you dumb and earning a stumble from you in which your escorts ceased themselves from going on through their conversation as it seemed as if you were in the middle of being in a heated quarrel. But, it was mostly Satoru who kept his mouth shut as he was endlessly sending ceaseless jests here and there. His smile gradually fading when he'd seen that you've been confronted in a manner that he found...unsettling.

Or maybe he just perceives the elderly downright irksome? Though, Yoshinobu Gakuganji was a whole lotta' level of vexation for Satoru. The Higher-Ups were.

"What's wrong with you? There's no Angie living here, woman! Do you need something? If you don't then I'll fuckin' call the cops on you!"

You've held onto the railing that hit your back due to the surprise, raising a hand and gesturing with your fingers to express your apologies further. "S-Sorry. I'm sorry, Sir---"

You weren't even done with your sentence that he had to shut the door on your face, clamorously.

In times like this, where you were met with desperation, pessimism and optimism clashing like wildfire, there was no doubt that your emotions were flying through the roofs. That tight, suffocating knot in your throat tempted to reach your eyes as if it was the last thing you would want to do, especially that the world was broadcasting your despair for another dimension that left you astray.

Destiny was giving you the picture that no matter which world you were in---luck will never be on your side because you were bound to become lost and forlorn. Disoriented as you ever been.

There was no time for crying, you knew that yourself. Chiefly, it was because you knew Nanami and Satoru was watching you from a distance. Men whom you had no idea if they would find tears as a form of laurels that make them feel somewhat high and mighty just like how your family had been back in your real dimension, as if you were incapable of having the burnt-outs because they depended a lot from you and had extremely high-expectations to lift them off their impecunious thriving.

Kento surely didn't seem like the type to laugh at women's tears. Howbeit, Satoru, he was different compared to Nanami. You had a hunch he would make fun of your sobs and weeps. It was difficult to stifle them from pouring down, to a great degree that you were trying to divert your thoughts away from the problem at hand but it was utterly straining that you couldn't handle it anymore.

You just had to.

Furthermore, the teardrops that fell upon your face had given you a vague reason of inquiry if these were weeps from how lost and vulnerable you were in your real dimension or for another that petrified your soul upon which path must you take in order to survive through Satoru's world.

"Gojo." Nanami apathetically called out towards the latter who kept his mouth shut after feasting the image of you being yelled at by an old man you hardly knew nor believed to exist. Gojo looked to be chewing over what he had in mind, his smile turning minimal when you were faced by the harsh reality that was difficult to digest, that actually has not been part of the plan. "---When you mentioned that she's unidentified, you meant that she isn't entirely from here, correct?"

Gojo snapped his fingers at Kento, switching his attention towards his co-worker who was also observing your reactions from a distance, "Correct-o! You got it right this time, Nanami!"

"Hm." The latter hummed inquisitively, regarding you from beneath his sunglasses as he gave back a nod, "---The world's changing." he emphasized and paused, adding more to his utterance whilst sounding frank, "----Your ways of introducing her to a world that's clearly difficult to be adapted is undesirable. But, that's expected from you. No doubt."

Satoru didn't cut him off this time, keeping a weather eye on you as he glanced to see you wantonly sit upon the cemented stairs that connected upon an elevated slope before the metal gates were intertwined, taking one bar as your seat of woebegone. Your back towards their standpoint. Nonetheless, they just had no idea yet that you were actually on the verge of sobbing.

"You shouldn't have dropped the bomb in one go. Our work isn't easy to explain to people who hardly know Jujutsu Sorcery. Why even associate her in it?"

The latter glanced back at Nanami with a smile, entirely impervious that you were stifling your cries to yourself on the far corner. "Do you really wanna know?" he nonchalantly asked, a teasing grin lifting his lips with a taunting intonation of his voice, "---You should've given the finger in Yoshino to me then, rather than the Higher Ups,"

Nanami had an impassive expression on his face, "You were bound to give it to Yuji."

Satoru simpered, pleased with Nanami's supposition towards the conceptualization of giving Sukuna's finger to Gojo, knowing that he technically would just hand the finger to Yuji without thinking twice, "Tch. What a bummer, Nanami!"

You were restraining for crying out loud as you sat on one of supposed-to-be Angie's house. It was frightening to get the exact picture of Angie's house that stood beside you. Everything---and when you say everything---Satoru's world had gotten the exact blueprint of what your friend's house looked like.

It was the damned exact same thing.

Hence, why did it feel like they never existed? Even you, yourself didn't?

Gojo heard the faint, choke back of your weeps. Your despondency interrupting his conversation with Nanami that he had to take a pause. Nanami hadn't said a word and impatiently waited for Satoru to intervene through your lone sniveling, dubious over the impression that you had of him as he felt that you were intimidated and felt more comfortable with Satoru instead. He was not surprised that you actually were. The 7:3 sorcerer was practically judging him and kept his observations to himself, discovering something offbeat that he couldn't grasp at the present time.

Before Nanami could even upbraid him for his impractical way of welcoming you to their world, the latter began to take a march, "Ah, for heavens' sake," Satoru grumbled beneath his breath with a bridled smile that cloaked his pensive thoughts. His feet dragging him towards where you sat, the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer latterly fathoming out how his own movements got the best of him before he could even think twice about it.

Your restrained weeps were off-putting in Satoru's perspective. How every step he took; how louder your squeaks actually reverberated out on an empty street and under the balmy heat of the sun, it felt bothersome for him. He swiftly dismissed the eccentric sentiments that oddly resurfaced as Satoru caught you off-guard by sitting in front of you, his long legs bent and spread like a dullard as he brightly called out for the special sobriquet he had for you, "Tiny-Chan!" he eagerly surprised you as he hopped to your peripheral vision, wholly being blinded by his face.

"---You cryin'?"

What surprised you was more than that. It even got your heart skipping at least triple beats from the perception you've gotten from Satoru's smile right now. This did not consist of his usual goofing around minutes. His smile was cordial---soothing as if it was meant to be described as solace. You didn't know that it was possible for him to act this way; to behave in a way that can get you ceasing your tears for him.

Though, you know he was also one of the reasons why you were sobbing like a child.

There was a fraught silence between the both of you, never knowing what he was thinking because he was as complex as to not knowing what hid behind his eyes.

You believed that a person's eyes would be the windows to his or her soul, it was at least the easiest to wade through a person's emotions or feelings; to the point that you could decipher if he or she had a rough past. Thus, it was unfair to have your curiosity stirred by Satoru to the point that you're avid to what he was hiding.

"You're adapting." Satoru astonishingly divulged, tone modulated enough that it sounded impossible to comprehend because it added more heat to your face while you've tried to shun away from him with your palms, shielding yourself from his attention as it was quite overwhelming.

"---and you actually believe me now. You've been such a stubborn girl." Like a shot, he'd managed to stick his thick, masculine fingers in between the spaces of yours, mildly flicking you on the forehead as he gave a low chuckle from the reaction he'd gotten from you.

"S-stop it."

Your voice was wobbly as you quietly scolded, the confidence within you died down from the moment you've came to realize that your shop wasn't exactly the same one like you had back on your earth. Angie's house was just another set of triggers that has spurned you further into a weeping mess in front of these Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Gojo's chuckles faded for a moment or two, unable to retaliate for the unforeseen shedding of tears from your side. He was taken aback by it, much to his incredulity. You've made it obvious that you were steering clear from his sudden undivided attention towards your woebegone appearance, constantly looking away in contrast to his brazen rubbernecking.

You were lucky he had his blindfolds on and haven't been wearing his specs yet.

Gojo decided to stand at full height, thinking that he would finally leave you alone. But, to your astonishment, believe it or not, he'd paved his way to sit beside you, offering no jests but just his undeniably comfortable silence.

You've expected a lot from the blindfolded guy, predicted that he was bound to laugh at your tears or gain pride to your loss because of how you've tried to understand how he was as a person. Howbeit, this time, Gojo Satoru left you stupefied as he offered nothing but his existence---like he was there not to express his guffaws but to suppress his pleasantries and actually make you feel that you weren't....unchaperoned or rather, alone.

"Hey, Satoru." You softly called out to him, hearing him hum as a response that he was waiting for you to talk, the low and thick murmur giving your toes the jelly touches in which you tried hard to fight off, "---Aren't you the strongest sorcerer out here...in your world?"

He'd took notice of the sudden change of opinion over the whole issue, leaning forward over how he sat beside you and brought both his elbows on his knees, his palm rested under his chin as he confidently claimed doubtlessly, "Yeah. Once again, I told you...I'm the strongest."

"Then, why can't you teleport me back in my world?" you repeated your question back when you were on the plane, tenacious over how it was impossible when he claimed that he was put on a pedestal by all---as far as how he was overbearing over the entitlement.

Gojo beamed through your question, it wasn't that he couldn't---he just probably did not want to get involved with the idea of travelling from one dimension and to the other, it would have been too much to handle then. His own dimension was already asking or demanding him of too much---adding more to it seemed to be tiring, "I told you, I think that's beyond of my capacity." He quickly blocked the idea with a lie before promptly taking it back before his mouth could even stop himself, getting a gist that you were crestfallen from how he pointed out that there was no possibility of it, "---Yet again, I haven't learned nor tried if I'm capable of that. But, I might---I probably could. I can."

Did he just admitted that he would?

You've given him the cold shoulder, refusing to believe and trusted that it was just him---gloating for all you know, "You're just probably being presumptuous. You're not the strongest, then."

"Or you just have no idea as of now." Satoru proclaimed as he turned to see you still looking away from him, "---I trust you're as crazy as me,"

"I doubt." you nasally deadpanned, emitting a stifled, satirizing chuckle from your frame of reference.

"Ha. You are. Considering how you were planning to hug the heck out of cursed spirits, how you also have drawings of me---even using my birthday as your mobile passcode, you're probably crazy for me, " Satoru went on with his innocuous bon-mots, feeling the atmosphere change from the time shared as he tried to lighten up the mood more by his witticism.

"Does he know how you find him thoroughly handsome and pretty since the moment you laid your eyes on him?" you've sniffled, caught unprepared by his sudden joke that did not seem like it because he sounded like he was just relishing upon the truth that he had this charisma that you couldn't explain yet.

There was no response to that, you could tell that Satoru was also deep in his thoughts, dwelling upon ideas you have no viewpoint of. Your tears were finally gone nor did it continued from the moment that Gojo decided to interrupt your woes. You were occupied upon wiping your dried up tears with the back of your hand, still timorous over the fact that you were caught crying. Howbeit, Satoru tried to make it seem like he did not care about it.

"Tiny-Chan," he soothingly called out, taking a pause as if he was dwelling to say what was needed to be said, giving it second-thoughts before he continued, his fingers dancing across his chin as he sounded adamant over the proposal being given.

"---Say, I'll find a way to bring you back to your dimension. Keep you out of the hands from the Higher Ups..." he started, utterly determined before he trailed off, expectant that you were about to cut him off from the moment he mentioned that there was no doubt that the Higher-Ups will be involved in whatever plans he was trying to have with you.

"The Higher Ups? Huh?"

Satoru did not want to explain further. Just elucidating upon the group was making his lip twitch in a manner that tells it was already causing him stress just by thinking about it, "The Higher-Ups, they're a pain in the ass. Also, I could tell that they're bound to end up using you or repudiate to your presages. Oh, tough-luck, they might have a reason to tweak the law of Jujutsu and have a non-sorcerer executed because you could somehow have any idea over their agendas," he casually clarified, not actually specifying who they were as his explanation was broad as heck. He gestured with a shake of his hand, feeling your inquisitive eyes on him.

"---Heh! Don't worry about them too soon. I'll tell you about them next time!"

Executed? That was definitely hogwash. Were you bound to be put to death without knowing anything at all?

His sudden change of emotion and behavior got you curious. Satoru seemed to not like a bit of the Higher-Ups as much as you could fathom from how he was actually frowning as of the moment. You left the topic for next time and waited further for his continuation of whatever he had in mind.

Satoru begun, his emotions suddenly shifting to something enigmatic for you to understand as it felt like the topic was either sensitive or one that he did not like to expound, more than what he was trying to elucidate over the whole 'Higher Ups' thing, "As long as you tell me your spiels behind those sketches and how you know both me and my one and only best friend in that 'drawing' of yours,---" pause.

"---How you know some of what happened during the merging of the Star Plasma Vessel with Tengen. You've got everything in detail. Also the others which seems to be the future,"

"Star Plasma Vessel? Tengen? Huh?" you've turned your head to meet his blindfolded eyes that were already faced to you, eventually knowing that he was reckoning your swollen, teary ones with a small, melancholic smile to his face. He knew this particular question would come around especially that he was involved in the picture and Satoru has managed to expel the dismal incident somehow---he believed he did.

"But, where's this bestfriend you're saying? Is he the one with the man-bun? How come...I never seen him yet? where is he? what's his name?" you gullibly asked, bombing him questions after questions after being shared of information that you hardly understood as you had no theories over the particulars that Gojo was trying to provide you with.

From the start that Satoru provided bits of knowledge over the sketches that he believed you owned felt like you were insensitive for your beseeching. Your subconsciousness was persistently whispering how the questions sounded wrong; how your curiosity over every exposé that Gojo could spare seemed to be terribly inconsiderate in your viewpoint, regarding this as an odd feeling that explored every cranny of your delicate heart.

Perhaps, it was how his smiles turned a doleful. Surprisingly, he was looking away and out in a distance, grappling over the opportunity of gazing his splendid side profile. His impressive jawline that could definitely cut a bitch. Though, admiring how he had stellar features---that distant beam that was drawn upon his face kept your heart in a reel of guilt.

Your questions felt like a trauma being uncorked by a bottle of overflowing, perished wine or champagne.

The sweat that filled along the undersides of your nose felt numbing. You were mean---have been probably disparaging to Satoru's whole being or character, perpetually intransigent over your impressions of him since the first day you've met the guy. Your consciousness castigating how brutal it was to ask them too soon.

"Ah." Gojo distractedly hummed in response to your questions, his despondent beam unchanging. The intonation in his voice changed, sounding detached but pliable which struck your chest into receiving bane that entered the heart, the guilt launching back and forth when he'd muttered the name under his breath.

"---Suguru Geto?"

Your frowned deepened upon hearing his name from Satoru's lips. He'd turn his head to lay his eyes on you, keeping track if you were paying attention to what he'll say next. Hence, the latter could bear a resemblance upon the emotions on your face, having the hallmarks of a woman that discerned the woes he barely allowed everyone to latch onto because of how he was entitled and believed to be 'the strongest'.

An exceptional privilege that only you had the dispensation to espy in which Gojo Satoru had been heedless of.

"---He's already dead."

Hence, it was that moment that you knew that the strongest even had his own downfalls. Incorporeal aspects that any other human could ever experience. Sentimentalities which builds humanity into developing themselves whether if it was for better or worse.

Gojo Satoru was just Gojo Satoru. He was, indeed---what you perceived as, human.

Clump for Dicks. Oh dear, how did I come up with that--- I can feel the embarrassment through here.

Also, Satoru---*cries* 😭

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, BB'S! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Chapter 7 will have lots of parts considering the title of the fanfic is...7th Dimension. ☞￣ᴥ￣☞ Heehee! I'mma spoil y'all, Chapter 7 will be a fluffy one and I've been smiling while I'm currently writing it down right now. Heehee. (◕દ◕)

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