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satorena · 2 months ago

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( P*SSY GOT ) P☆WER !?

bad ☆ summary. converting a loser into a munch wasn’t on your yearly bingo card ( or was it ? )

content ★ warnings. explicit content. mdni. foul language. situationship!gojo. college au. cunningulus. frōtting. premature ejaculātion. fīngering. eventual smut. gojo pines for like 99% of the fic. he also studies in pornology. reader is kinda bratty. mention of death lightheartedly. a lot of italicized words. lowkey gojo centric? 6.4k words (bye).

rena’s ☆ note. SATORENA COMEBACK … sorta (・・?)

“gimme a kiss.”

your face scrunches before the words can express your distaste. with your hand on the handle of his car’s door, your fingers tighten around the metal bar, half tempted to leave the man at your left— rosy lips puckered into an obnoxious smooch.

his eyelids are shut tight as his brows furrow to the centre of his forehead, face leaned in. you chuckle at his theatrics, lifting your free hand to press your digits at his pucker. his eyelids open as his brows now loosen, “gojo, bye.”

you feel his hands wrap around your wrist, gently lifting your hand off his mouth, though your fingers hover over his lips still, “girl.” he tilts his head to the side, emitting an aura of sass you’ve yet to understand, “it’s satoru to you— i can’t even have a little one? haven’t i been good all day?”

you click your tongue, “you been runnin’ your mouth all day long actually,” and before your mind can even process your following words, you focus on the way his plump lips fall into another one of his childish pouts. cute. however he chooses to take your invitation is all up to him. your eyes dart to the rosy flesh as you hum, “mhm, if only you ate pussy as good as you talk shit.”

you feel the hold on your wrist drop, as his frown switches to a blank stare. you cock a brow, watching as the hand his steering wheel tightens.

he gulps, eyes narrowing before glancing over to the leather wheel, “i, uh, don’t eat pussy.”

oh. . . oh.

the slam of the car door speaks the rest for you.

“woah— hey!” gojo yells after you, though your figure seems to get smaller with the steps you take. in your hold is your purse, bouquet of flowers he’d bought earlier and house keys. “baby, hold on— this damn window,” he cusses, removing the barrier between you and him angrily. you hadn’t even hesitated to exit the car, as if he’d said the world’s most vile comment.

you’re not listening, and for some reason gojo feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. what the fuck had he said that made you all upset with him?

he watches helplessly as you insert your key into the hole. the chiming sounds of your keys serve as a reminder that he was definitely in trouble. that and he wasn’t getting his damn goodbye kiss.

he sighs instead, albeit defeatedly. “am i at least gonna see you soon?”

the front door opens and you look back over your shoulder, and god— he really thought he had it. his lips threaten to pull into a smile, ready for your little mood to be over with.

you grin and as does he. you even give him a cute wave, thank fuck, “have yourself a nice life, baby.”

and the front door closes. damn.

☆ ☆

“you said what?!”

gojo groans into the phone, sprawling himself on his king sized mattress that suddenly feels way to big for him alone. where were you when he needed you? oh that’s right, “she ghosted me! i’m blocked on all socials— can you believe that?”

he tried reaching out to you through texts to make sure you were feeling okay, but the shade of green told him everything he needed to know— especially as an apple user. he then proceeded to go through your social media, to double check his suspicions and there it was, user not found.

“uh, duh?” geto is as judgemental as ever, and gojo doesn’t try to suppress the roll of his eyes. “bro, you just told the girl you’re talkin’ to that you don’t give head. the fuck d’you think was gonna happen?”

“it’s not even a big deal!” he argues because his pride in on the line, and he ignores the groan geto gives him across the phone. rude. his fingers pinch at the top of his nose bridge, “was it really necessary to block me? literally just tell me to kill myself at this point.”

“pretty sure that’s what she blocked you for.” geto snickers, and gojo realizes he’s lucky they aren’t in person because he would have blocked him. instead he whines, pressing the speaker button before stuffing his face in his pillow. he’s probably insane but he swears there’s a hint of your scent there, and now he’s whining louder.

“quit bitchin’. you brought this upon yourself,” and out of spite, gojo whines louder. if his legs kick against his mattress childishly, it’s nobody’s business but his own. the love of his life just walked out of his life— give him a break. “and dude, no shade but do you really not eat pussy? are you gay or somethin’?”

“i am not—” he cuts himself off once the sound of his own voice echoes loudly in his lonely room. geto winces and gojo bites down on his tongue before sighing. “i’m not gay. i love women only. seriously. how does not eating pussy make me gay?”

the line goes quiet, and gojo can tell geto’s making that face he makes whenever he’s finding the right words to say without offending gojo. it ticks him off. “alright, lemme counter that question with one of my own. why don’t you eat pussy?”

gojo pauses. he tightens his fingers around his pillow as the question ponders. he thinks about having received head in the back of his car once, the other time in the bathroom of some frat party, and another in some girl’s bedroom. from all memories, he draws a similar conclusion— they always come onto him first.

“i dunno.” his lips fall into a pout, tracing patterns into his pillowcase with his index. “they never really ask, so i never bothered. that can’t be weird, right? all of my hookups have consisted of them pulling my pants down. why would i refuse? i get my nut and that’s that.”

and because geto is genuinely never on his side, “satoru . . . eugh.” some kind of best friend is he.

“what?!” he hisses in retaliation, glaring at his phone as if it would solve his issues. there’s nothing he hates more than feeling judged. “you fucking asked!”

“calm the fuck down,” he hears geto rolling his eyes. the white haired man huffs, the blow of air pushing his bangs up before they fall back down. okay, maybe he should calm down. whatever. “so essentially what you’re saying is you’ve never been put in a position where you could eat pussy?”

something like that, “sure.” gojo nods, and he doesn’t understand why geto sighs.

“why do i even bother?” though the answer is clear, he’s pretty sure geto was talking to himself. gojo clicks his tongue, ready to bark back but geto beats him to it. “so tell her just that— it’s not that you won’t give head, it’s just that you haven’t given head. which still blows me, but whatever.”

“how? remember she blocked me on everything?” the thought makes gojo whine again, throwing his limbs all over his bed. he hits his phone, then opts to grab it. “is that not entitlement? i have to bend my back all over the damn place just to get her to talk to me again?”

“satoru, you’ve literally done the same thing. don’t act like you’re above it,” geto chuckles and gojo hears shuffling in the background. the ravenette sighs in relief, and he assumes he’s now in his own bed. “besides, you fuckin’ love women who give you challenges.”

and fuck, he’s really not wrong. “yeahhh, you know me so well.” he wipes a fake tear from his eye. he rolls over onto his back, “welp, i’m gonna log into your insta to stalk her account. i miss her so much i’m literally gonna die.”

“satoru.” geto warns him, but gojo is quicker than that. he’s already typing your name into the search bar, username memorized as if it were his cellphone number.“i swear to god if you accidentally like her shit—”

“thanks bestie, love ya lots!” and he hangs up the phone. and with a shit eating grin, he giggles, “time to start lurking.”

☆ ☆

so it’s been months (read: four days) since he last seen you. he’s thankful you’re at least in two of his courses, so he has some sort of opportunity to reach you. he’d spent the last months (hours) stalking your page, viewing your stories to see if there’d been any indicator that you missed him as badly as he missed you.

and all he’s gotten so far is that you spent friday out to dinner (with him) (it was just a mirror pic of your outfit but an outfit you wore on a date with him) (you love him so bad), you had a girls’ night on saturday with shoko and utahime (he barely registered they were in the selfie) and sunday was a study sesh you had at the cafe across the college. he had to screenshot and zoom in to ensure there were no signs of living souls in the same booth as you.

he was still in the clear. whew.

and so monday morning falls, and he’s actually rushing to get to class for once (late but as expected). the one of two classes he shares with you. he hopes he’ll find you sitting in your habitual seat, not too far up close yet not too far back, and he might pull the fire alarm if he spots anybody next to you.

he’s a man on a mission— he’s going to talk to you today. he needs to be back in your good graces. there were many things he wanted to yap to you about, many places he thought of taking you over the weekend, many moments he wanted your soft lips back on his and your gentle hand back in his own.

he misses you, damn it.

there you sit, in all your glory, shining so bright in the middle of this depressing ass psychology course in the early hours of the butt fuck morning. he sees you twirling your pen in between your fingers, your cheek leaned into the palm of your hand— and nobody by your side.

if he rushes and trips over his feet momentarily to get to you in time, it’s nobody’s business but his own (and the girl who’s backpack laid useless on the floor. hazard much.)

he so much as plops into the seat as he does actually sit in it, and he watches as you jerk in surprise. though, the look of surprise is quickly replaced by aloofness. you feel different— not entirely closed off but not as welcoming as you usually are. you’re probably still done with him.

well it’s too damn bad he’s not done with you, “good morning, princess.”

you blink at him, before nodding your head curtly. “morning, gojo.” and you turn your focus back onto the professor. just like that, you shut down another conversation.

he doesn’t like that, and so he pokes at your side and chews at his strawberry gum. “you blocked me on everything.”

“i did.” you answer shortly, though your eyes never leave the professor. he cannot be that interesting, who actually gives a fuck about cognitive dissonance?

“seen this new bakery shop down the street.” he tries again. “wanted to take you but that was impossible because somebody blocked me.”

“i mean, you know where i live.” you shrug, writing whatever the fuck the professor had mentioned in your notebook. wait, what? you turn your head to see him gaping at you in confusion, and you smirk at his silence.

“cat got your tongue?” you quip, amused by his stillness. your eyes sparkle mischievously, though your smile isn’t entirely full. don’t tell him, you’ve been— “too bad it’s not mine, though.”

ohhh, you cheeky brat.

“so. . . you were never really mad at me?” gojo blinks, his mind running miles a second. nothing was adding up, he was positively certain you were cutting ties with him. “this whole time. you weren’t mad about the pussy eating comment?”

“don’t get it twisted,” you raise a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. you lift a finger in the air before pointing at him, “you,” and then pointing at yourself “and i are done. we can still be cool but i’m not wasting my time with no bitch—respectfully.”

“so you are mad?” he asks again, disregarding the bitch comment. he knows what he’s supposed to say— to clarify the situation, to make it known that it’s not like he’s repulsed by the idea of giving head— but you make it so hard to stay on track when you’re acting defiant.

suguru was right— he does love a challenge.

“mad?” you giggle, and gojo leans back in his seat. damn, you’re confusing. stone cold one minute but all giggly the next. it’s cool, he’ll figure you out. “i ain’t trippin’ baby— if you don’t wanna eat it then don’t. another man definitely will.”

huh, “oh?” his eyes narrow just slightly, though the smirk on his lips never falter. he ignores the way his stomach just dropped to his ass at your implication— there is no way in hell is he letting another man have you. not when he’s still alive and breathing. “if you think i’m letting that happen, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

“everything seems to be coming but me,” you bat your lashes, and damn he fell right into that one. you drop your pen down, giving him one last smile before redirecting your focus to the professor before you. “the real question is what do you plan on doing ‘bout that?”

you give him no time to respond, and it’s not like he thinks he would be able to, as you begin to pack your belongings into your tote bag. you’re leaving and he barely got to say what he’d been memorizing all weekend. oh well, at least he now knows you haven’t entirely cut him off.

if he doesn’t knows better, it feels like you want him to chase after you.

god, he thinks he’s in love.

☆ ☆

gojo satoru is amazing at everything. there truly isn’t something he can do that won’t come out spectacular. he’s gifted, that he knows much, and it’s difficult to stay humble when he’s constantly reminded of so.

“i can easily do this shit.” he mumbles to himself, cerulean eyes narrowing into focus at the bright lit screen of his ipad. his airpods are in, and he’s gonna be completely honest— the pornstar’s screaming is starting to get on his nerve. however, he’s always been an exceptional student and when it’s time to lock in, it’s time to lock in.

his legs feel as though they’ve fallen asleep in the criss-cross position he’s been sat in on his bed for the past two hours. irrelevant, he decides as he picks at his bottom lip with his fingers. his device is running hot with how long it’s been since it last caught a break, but he had bigger issues to worry about. so, basically all he has to do is spread open her lips and go to town until she squirts? sounds simple enough.

he watches as the guy begins motorboating into the girl’s pussy and— “damn, that looks like it hurts.” a grimace creeps onto his face as the guy repeatedly goes ham on swollen red lips. he’s got half a mind telling him that the moans the girl’s letting out are entirely out of agony and not pleasure.

“aaaalrighty,” gojo speaks up, though to himself. “next video, that shit was ass. pussy hurts just thinkin’ bout it, eugh.”

he finds an amateur video, and the thumbnail seemed intimate enough. after an agonizing ad of ‘want a quick break from the ads?’, the video begins. the upper half of the woman’s body is cut out of frame, but she’s laid onto her side, her backside in view. her top leg lifted just slightly, the man lays on his stomach and spreads them apart further and begins to lick.

he dives his tongue inside her cunt, not too sloppy, and gently works his way in. his thumb is caressing at her puckered forbidden zone, always gently, as his tongue glides up and down her labia.

gojo gulps. the girl makes soft sounds, hand coming down to play her the man’s hair, and he proceeds eat her out skillfully. her back arches, she whines and begs for more, and he never loses control. at some point, the hand that focused on her asshole moves up to grip at her cheeks, thus spreading her pussy lips further. she’s already wet from a mixture of fluids, and the sound it creates is so damn obscene.

gojo gulps again, and his sweats feel tight.

before his mind can even allow it, he’s thinking of you. he thinks of you on your side, legs spread open for his disposition as he brings you this same pleasure. as he lays himself on his stomach, munching at your pussy in ways that’ll have you squirming all over his bed, squeezing your plush thighs around his head and begging for him to give you more.

he thinks of how good you’d smell— how good you’d taste. he thinks of how nice you smell whenever you wrap your arms around his neck and he follows suit around your waist. he thinks of how sweet your lips taste when you’re straddling his thighs and slipping your tongue in his mouth.

pheromones are a crazy thing. your scent lingering in his car alone drives him insane. he’s so prone to boners around you, it’s like he’s a dog you’ve trained.

and now he’s thinking he wants you in this very bed at this very instance, ipad be damned, pussy spread open so he can feast. so he can relish the sounds you make as you call out his name, enamoured by the way his tongue would flick at your clit and break open that dam of water right onto his face.

“shit.” he chucks his ipad onto the floor, cradling his head into the palms of his hands. how had he not ever wanted to do this before?

☆ ☆

he doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s far past two in the morning on a thursday night, and he’s missing you. badly. he misses you and your sweet smile. he misses you and your smart mouth. he misses you and the way your lips move so fluidly against his own, as if they were made for one another.

he really doesn’t expect you to pick up.

it’s around the fifth ring that he hears your honeyed voice, “hi.” his eyes widen as he sits up from his bed in a hurry. talk about a damn surprise.

“hey.” he says back lamely, because of course he does. he feels the corner of his lips tugging into a smile and his heart is beating wildly against his rib cage. “didn’t think you’d answer.”

“mhm. so what’d you call me for?” you sound tired, and he wonders if you’d been sleeping when he called. somehow, the thought makes his stomach churn at the implication you cut off hours of sleep for him.

“just wanted to hear your voice.” gojo answers as honestly as he can, leaning down to rest his back back into the mattress of his bed. he shuts his eyes and imagines his arm falling asleep underneath your head, using him as a pillow. “been missin’ you.”

“you literally see me every other day at school,” he’s graced with the harmonious sounds of your giggles, and he can already picture the way your shoulders shake as dimples curve into your cheeks. “y’re so fuckin’ clingy.”

he supposes he is, can’t even find it in him to disagree. you’ve been plaguing his mind since you cut him off (question mark) last week. he wasn’t sure what kind of ban you were putting on him, but he’s been tiptoeing around his relationship with you for too long. the absence of your presence in the way he craves is driving him nuts. he misses you, damn it.

a longing sigh rips from his throat, “can’t help that i miss that ass,” he jokes instead because talking about feelings and vulnerability is wrong. “you still owe me a goodbye kiss, y’know? just left a poor guy hangin’, rude.”

“hmm,” you hum lazily and he isn’t sure what to expect. he’s just talking out of his ass, wants to restore that playful banter you guys had prior to this whole pussy eating mess— which he’d gladly now get on his knees and rock your fucking world. “like i said already, you know where i live.”

“you got one more time to say that before i show up at your doorstep for real,” gojo tests the waters, and swings his legs off his bed. he’s waiting for a sign, confirmation, anything to ensure you were being serious. late night be damned, he will show up to your door and flip your shit right then and there.

“the fuck i gotta repeat myself for?” you sigh, and gojo’s slipping his shoes on. he’s wasting no more time, he wants you right now. “if you really missed me you would have been come see me. you’re all talk.”

“so when i yell at your doorstep to lemme eat it, don’t start lookin’ at me crazy—i’m warning ya.” and with that he hangs up. he’s not leaving any more room for debates, enough’s enough. and shit, when the fuck had he gotten bricked?

he grabs his keys and slams his door close.

☆ ☆

you’re looking at him like he grew an extra head on his shoulders overnight. he’s looking at you like the tee you have on your body decimated his entire bloodline. there’s a heavy silence between you both, as if either one of you are expecting the other to make the first move.

“you actually came.” you blink in mild shock, neck craning up to look him dead in the eye. he’s panting heavily, he might’ve ran here the second he could, but how could he not have?

“enough games, baby.” gojo answers instead and takes a step into your apartment. you back up in retaliation, and he takes another close step. you stay still this time. his hands sneak below the hem of your shirt and slide up to your bare waist, grabbing onto the plush flesh. you feel jolts of electricity imbedded into your skin with every lingering touch. “lemme eat it, come on. please?”

“oh?” you cock an eyebrow, raising a hand to press your palm flat against the plane of his chest. you feel his heartbeat thudding wildly. “and here i thought you were too good to stoop as low as giving women head.”

gojo clicks his tongue and tightens his hold on you. “i never said that.”

“you basically did.” you bite back, tilting your head to the side. you see his nostrils flare a bit, “or does that rule apply with just me?”

“if it did, would i be here at three in the morning begging to eat your pussy?” gojo rolls his eyes. you open your mouth but snap it back shut and gojo decides you conceded. he lifts you from the ground and places you on his shoulder, ignoring your ‘put me down!’ and opts to shut you up with a firm slap on your ass.

your cheeks jiggle from the impact, and his dick twitches in his briefs. as he suspected, you’ve got no bottoms on— just a cute pair of pink lace panties he wants to tear apart with his teeth. animalistic is what you make him.

“so. . . which one is your room?” he finds himself in the corridor, arm wrapped around the back of your knees. you fall limp in his hold, defeatedly as your arm lifts to point at the door at the end of the hall. he smirks and rubs at your booty, “atta girl. look at ya bein’ all obedient and shit.”

“shut up.” you huff, and he would bet a million dollars you’ve got that adorable pout on your lips. the one you make whenever you don’t get something done the way you planned.

your bedroom is everything he expected from you, fits your personality just about right. but—respectfully, fuck your bedroom. he’s got bigger issues to address, and that can only be done with your panties on the floor and a mouth full of your cunt. his dick is twitching uncontrollably at the thought of it alone.

“if you drop me on this bed, i swear i’m gonna kill you.” tilting your head, you warn him once he stands next to the edge of your bed frame. though a moot point, because if you know gojo as well as you think you do, you’re about to meet your duvets face first.

“mhm, what was that?” cupping a hand behind his ear, he pretends innocence then proceeds to do exactly what you warned him not to do. him and his long ass limbs, manhandling you all over the damn place as if its in his birthright. and no, it does not make your cunt clench, despite your thighs rubbing one against another. “sorry shortie, think i missed what you said.”

when you’re finally able to gain composure, you sit up on your elbows and furrow your brows in the nastiest scowl you can muster. he stands right above you, his frame so large it both annoys and turns you on. “gojo, you stupid fucking—”

you want to slap the smile off his face. “yeah, yeah.” he cuts you off, before leaning down to hover over you. his arms are pinned at your side, upper body pressing against yours. you feel the weight of his hips pressing into your legs, and so you widen the space. he fits in just as perfectly as you’d imagined he would. the tip of his nose brushes yours, biceps flexing in your peripherals. you feel his breath fanning at your cupid’s bow, warm yet it leaves shivers creeping at your spine.

“think you owe me somethin’, princess.” his voice comes out in a low growl, from the depths of his chest. his presence is so dominating— his bulge pressed right up against your aching cunt, the feel of his heartbeat right against yours. it all feels dizzying, the scent of his cologne filling up your nostrils and clouding any better sense of judgement.

he’s teasing you— leans in, brushes his soft lips against yours and watches as you lean forward to capture them but pulls away just in nick of time. he loves every one of your facial expressions, especially that adorable scowl of yours. he can’t wait to see the faces you make when you’re in absolute bliss.

he tilts his head just slightly, practically mouthing the words into your parted mouth. and with a low chuckle, he speaks, “if you want it, take it.”

you might’ve folded first, but he kisses you back just as eagerly, lips moulding into one another. you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you’d relieved him of all stresses weighing on his shoulders. you lift a hand to cup at the back of his neck, fingernails scratching at the undercut at his nape.

gojo shudders beneath your touch, rolling his hips deeper into yours and relishes in the way you moan softly into his mouth. he wants to drink up every single sound you make, wants to discover your body’s sensitive spots and maneuver them into making a mess out of you.

your neck soon begins to ache, and almost as if he can read your mind, pushing deeper into you as you fall back onto your bed. he never takes his lips off of yours— not when the hold in his hair lowers in favour to grip at his biceps or stroke his back, not even when your legs wrap tightly at his waist. at a particular grind, you moan louder than any other sound you’d made all night, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

“gojo,” you whine into his mouth, fingers clawing at his compression tee. he continues to roll his bulge into your clothed cunt, aiming at that spot that has you arching your back off the bed and into him. he grips a hand tightly at your plush thigh, his hold so hard you’re certain he’ll leave bruises. “you said y-you’d eat it. be a man of your, ngh, word.”

“yeah, that’s right,” he pulls away finally, a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips. he pecks at your kiss bitten lips, the dazed look in your eyes igniting a fire deep in his gut. “gotta keep my promise— can’t keep my baby waitin’ too long,” you feel his lips trail from the corner of your lips to the slope of your jaw, “she gets all cranky an’ pissy.” from the column on your neck to your collarbone, “starts gettin’ all mean with me.”

“oh my gosh, shut up!” you complain, though your hold on him tightens. you feel the vibrations of his chuckles at your jugular, followed by a deep plunge on his teeth at the thin layer of skin and another agonizingly slow grind against your clit. “fuckin’— shit— hurry up already!”

“tsk, see what i mean?” gojo tuts, hands sliding down the curves at your torso. you feel his large fingers play with the material of your panties, rolling the lace between forefingers. the contrast of the coolness of his rings against your heated skin adds a strange stimulation to your senses. “so mouthy, ‘m gonna have to do somethin’ about that.”

“i’m mouthy?” you squawk, watching as he lifts your tee up from your body. he taps wordlessly at your waist and you understand to remove the article of clothing. you chuck the tee across the room, before redirecting your focus on the man peppering wet kisses all over your stomach. it leaves butterflies rattling inside. “you literally cannot shut the fuck up— what’s the hold up? awe, don’t tell me you can’t walk the talk?”

he pauses for a bit. he doesn’t let himself fall bait for your words. you’re just being bratty— all hot and bothered and can’t properly ask for what you need. you don’t have to worry, he’s here entirely for your pleasure. he isn’t even thinking about the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers, doesn’t even attempt to relieve it at all.

and so, he kneels at the edge of the bed. with two large hands cupping at your hips, he pulls you closer to him and rests your thighs on his shoulders. he watches as your chest rises up and down, and you prop yourself back onto your elbows.

your eyes are misty, your lips swollen and wet, your hair a mess and your neck littered in marks that scream gojo. you already look fucked out and he hadn’t done shit. god, he can’t wait to stuff his face between your thighs.

“i got you baby,” he drags his index finger right in the center of your cunt. he can both feel and see the material dampen with your arousal, your hips squirming as you chase for more. he licks his lips as he narrows in on the treasure, he swears he hears his stomach growling. “promise i do. just relax for me, yeah?”

“whatever.” you mumble, and comply to his order. he calls you a good girl, before stroking at your clit some more. the reactions you give will forever be imprinted in his mind, fleeting touches already granting him the opportunity to hear your delicate voice once more. you may be impatient but gojo is worse, and he decides that he wants to see your cunt now. he pushes your panties to the side, and the sight he’s rewarded with nearly— nearly, had him cumming right on two knees.

gojo gulps. “holy shit,” he feels his voice waver in excitement, eyes widened as he stares dead on. your cunt clenches around nothing from the switch of temperature, oozing more of your arousal down to your sheets. your pussy lips are puffy, clit sitting atop so prettily and damn, he wants to hump something.

he isn’t sure why but you try to close your thighs together, rude much, though gojo is much stronger. he keeps them spread wide, and shoots you a look. “do not.”

“tsk.” you click your tongue, looking away. and, oh, are you shy? “stop staring, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

he’s too far enamoured by the slick dribbling from your tiny hole down the crack of your ass. it trickles so tauntingly, that he finds himself nearly jealous. he wishes he could be there— oh wait, “just appreciatin’ my meal before i eat, sue me.”

the pad of his thumb collects your juices before popping it into his mouth. “wow,” he mumbles, more so to himself, at your taste bursting onto his taste buds. it’s so undoubtedly you, a raw and truthful you, and he gives you no warning before diving right in.

“fuckkk,” you throw your head back, hand flying to grab at the nearest thing in your vicinity— which so happens to be tousled, fluffy hair.

so, first time for everything right? but gojo maneuvers his way into your pussy as if he’d done this before. he starts off with kitten licks, teasing you some more before flattening his tongue and dragging it up and down your lips. he swallows and moans into your cunt, fingers digging deep into the back of your thighs.

he’s practically making out with your pussy. he doesn’t neglect any area, not even the clit surprisingly, as he latches his lips to the bundle of nerves and lightly nibbles. now that has your back arching and pushing his head deeper into you. if there was a way to go in life, he’d gladly take this death.

he’s so painfully hard it hurts, unable to control the way his hips grind against the bed frame. your scent is driving him feral, the way you tug on his hair harshly has his balls tightening and the way you cry out his name makes him want to imprint his name inside of you.

“s-satoru!” oh god, you’ve done it. you finally said his first name and he’s this close to painting his briefs white in shame. he continues to flick his tongue inside your hole and similar strokes to his humping. “you’re doin’ s’gooddd baby, shit!”

keep praising him and he’s gonna bust. he lifts himself away from your pussy, eyeing the gooey center almost offensively, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” he lands a wad of spit down, as he brings two digits to properly rub his saliva into your essence. the sounds it produces are so wet, it’s damn near filthy. he clicks his tongue, “seriously. ‘s makin’ me mad almost.” he slaps at your cunt twice, watching how your spray down his wrist.

“you s-sure this is your first, hnng, time?” you accuse, to the best of your abilities, as you feel him slip a finger in. you’re so lubricated, the slip inside was easy. pushing past that first ring of muscle, he’s pumping in and out of your cunt with precision, curling his digit as if he’s aiming to find a specific area. “y’know too much— mmph, fuckin’ liar.”

when he thrusts into a specific angle, your thighs tremble terribly around his head. he smirks, found it. “watched a lotta porn.” and he isn’t lying, he thinks back to how he studied the arts of cunningulus, and recalls the double combo. he has to try it, so he’s back to sucking and nibbling at your clit while adding an extra finger inside.

“oh my goddd,” you whine, feeling your limbs liquify in heat from every extremity. he pushes your knee further into your chest, and so you grab ahold of both your thighs. he hums approvingly, dragging his free hand along the soft skin of your legs. “don’t— don’t stop, please don’t stop,”

your toes are curled, back off the mattress and the pain in his scalp is shooting straight down to his cock. he’s rutting and rutting into the wooden frame, the flat surface painfully teasing though it does do the job. or maybe he has you to blame.

he feels saliva dripping down his chin, the way his tongue slides into your folds and feels his knuckles in there. his fingers move in scissoring motions, rotating circles, in and out— all the while repeatedly attacking your golden spot.

you severely underestimated him, and can barely process the orgasm that rips through you when he presses a hand onto your lower belly, “‘m cumming, fuck, ngh, don’t stop—” and you wail, fingernails clawing intensely into his tresses, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in closer. he decides to make that decision for you, stuffing himself as deep as possible to not miss a single drop, and your thighs clench against his ears.

so, gojo satoru is a shameless man. as you flood into his mouth and onto his face, grinding out your orgasm and using him as nothing but a toy for your own high— somewhere along the lines, he feels his briefs are sticky. he moans sluttily into your pussy, hips twitching incessantly as his cock shoots loads of nut into his boxers.

it feels like an eternity yet simultaneously a second when you’ve come down from your high, body twitching as gojo slows down his movements, his finger pumps gradually lessening in intensity and the kitten licks on your abused clit coming to a halt.

his face is soaked. his skin feels moist and damp, a thick air of humidity beginning to grow in the room, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. his eyes are stuck on you, limbs sprawled out limply against your bed, your chest heaving, tiny breaths coming out of your mouth.

he slides out his aching fingers, and pops them back in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits so eagerly, basking in your taste once more. absolutely divine,

“christ, i’d make a nasty pornstar.”

gojo won the poll. . . everybody act surprised (°_°)

#rena☆star.#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x you #gojo x you #x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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wizidigital · 10 months ago

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Don't Waste Money On SEO Read This

If you've been told SEO is your way to digital marketing success, read this. SEO isn't for everyone.

#best SEO agencies in Chennai #best digital marketing agencies in Chennai #digital marketing agency in tamilnadu #seo company in chennai #best seo company in tamilnadu #seo agency in chennai #Chatgtp Content #Content Creators #Digital Marketing Agency #Long Term Seo Plan #Quality Content #Seo Agency #Seo Community #Seo Experts #Seo Investment #Seo Trends #Skilled Web Developers #User Centric Content

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smalltestaccount · 1 year ago

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196 Migration

If you’re not aware, the subreddit r/196 is going offline tomorrow (the 12th) in a protest along with multiple other subreddits against a decision reddit has made to their API pricing. 196 is one of the largest LGBT centric meme subreddits. The deal being that 196 will be shut down until reddit backs down from their stupid decision. Other subreddits are only going to be offline for a few days. 196 held this massive decision to a poll where about 60% said the subreddit should be privated indefinitely. Despite what people say, this will be an almost certain permanent end to the Subreddit. I think that anyone who believes that the chance of 196 coming back after the 12th has not thought it through very much and I consider this putting this to a poll to have been very stupid on the moderators parts as a lot of people clearly do not fully understand the likely outcome.

In short, Reddit is going to win this no matter how it’s sliced. Reddit will only back down their decision if the money they can squeeze from API pricing is larger than the loss in ad revenue from the protest. Many large subreddits that are closing will only be down for a few days. This results in a small dip in site usage, yes, but it definitely won’t cause significant issue to Reddit. However when all these subreddits come back there will be an uptick in site traffic, generating Reddit more money. The only way Reddit will lose money is with a decrease in active users, which is why some people want the subreddit to go down indefinitely, they want to leave Reddit and take many 196 users with them. Reddit definitely will not be backing down, the chance of that happening is minuscule. Therefore 196 will not come back.

196 is a special community on Reddit as it one of the largest subreddits with a strong LGBT presence and unique culture. 196 leaving will have many negative effects on the Reddit ecosystem. There are other LGBT subreddits that will very likely be shutting down too (for other reasons) such as r/traaaaaaannnnnnnnnns which is one of the largest trans subreddits. 196 has a large overlap with circle jerk subreddits, over the past year or so the relationship between 196 users and circle jerk subreddits has been quite important as they essentially have formed their own ecosystem as a place that LGBT teens and young adults feel comfortable in when Reddit as a whole is more dangerous. When 196 closes some people will leave for Tumblr TikTok and Twitter due to their main source of posts going dry. Circle jerk subs will start to reduce down to the users that do not consume content from 196, a group of people that is on average more conservative than the subreddits as wholes are with 196 users. This political shift on circle jerk subreddits will cause two things, 1: lgbt people feeling less comfortable on circle jerk subs and 2: circle jerk subs doing less circle jerking, due to less users and also a reduced interest in calling out bigoted posts on other subreddits. That will very likely become a negative feedback loop where circle jerk subs become increasingly similar to Reddit as a whole. And the effect that this will have on Reddit is going to be a general trend to become more conservative as the socially progressive community on Reddit shrinks with 196s departure. It’s likely a new or existing subreddit will replace 196 (a subreddit with less moderation tools and none of the user blacklists from 196), but by the time that subreddit comes about it will not reach the size 196 did. 196 leaving will have a permanent impact on Reddit as atleast some people will be reducing Reddit activity of leaving permanently. Reddit likely won’t become a new 4chan, but I would not be surprised if it became more similar to Facebook.

And a trans woman I must also feel the need to say that with r/traa and 196 very likely closing a large community of transfems will be displaced online. In the past 6 years Ive been a trans woman on the internet I can say fairly confidently that Reddit has been one of the most popular sites for trans women to congregate at, along with discord. Trans women are very likely a majority of the trans community on Reddit however on other sites like TikTok and here on tumblr trans women are definitely a smaller minority of the community. I feel like I should’ve just put that out. Right now is a scary time to be a young trans woman and two of the largest online places of support for young trans women closing doors will have negative impacts on the trans community.

Many 196 users who are smart enough to see what lies ahead are finding ways of congregating outside of Reddit. Besides the small social media sites that will obviously die before getting off the ground, tumblr is the most recommended place to call a new home. I know this sounds familiar to what happened with twitter, and the idea of Redditors coming to tumblr is quite scary. But I assure that 196 users are not dissimilar to tumblr users.

196 users migrating here to tumblr are using the tags #196 and #r/196. I will be posting some of my 196 and old r/traa posts under these. As a pseudo archive. I’ll also reblog and post as some of my favorite posts I wish to remember. Hopefully a migration of 196 users to tumblr is successful (though unlikely), if that happens I will try to post memes in the style of 196 posts. I know that I am an incredibly small account that is mostly inactive, so neither this post nor future posts will get much visibility. But I want to be here to support those trying to migrate

#196 #reddit #r/196 #lgbtq #r196 #r/traa

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ilsanslut · 4 months ago

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NEW BNHA J.AI BOTS!

hiii hii! vampiie here! when i tell you guys i've been busy, i MEAN IT IN EVERY SENSE OF THE PHRASE GOOD GAWDDD. i miss the days where i can be more active here, interact with you all daily, and write without a care in the world/feeling like i'm being rushed, but i'm glad i was able to find the time to pump out some more content for you all!

here is a misc. series of j.ai bnha bots featuring: katsuki bakugou, keigo takami (hawks), dabi, and tomura shigaraki! i hope you all enjoy! ♡

WARNING!!: before interacting with these bots, i must warn you that they were made with dead dove/dark content in mind. that being said, if dark content (noncon/abuse/violence/yandere/character death/misogyny/etc.) bothers you, please, respectfully, do not interact with these bots. thank you and ily. ♡

DIRECT LINK TO BOTS/J.AI BENEATH CUT!

𓆩♱𓆪 j.ai user: boovampiie.

⛧ katsuki bakugou and his sidekick! ⛧ keigo takami in his rut! ⛧ dabi and shoto's partner! ⛧ tomura shigaraki and his lewd cosplayer idol! [fem!pov]

because these bots are nsfw/dark content/dead dove-centric, they will not be appearing on my c.ai and will only appear on my j.ai. i'm too lazy to work around the c.ai filters for these bots, and besides, they fit the 18+ audience on j.ai.

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sexymemecoin · 6 months ago

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The Phenomenon of Meme Coins: Humor Meets Cryptocurrency

The world of cryptocurrency is known for its rapid innovations and diverse applications, but one of the most fascinating and unexpected trends to emerge in recent years is the rise of meme coins. These digital currencies, inspired by internet memes and popular culture, combine the worlds of humor and finance in a way that captivates a broad audience. Meme coins are not just a novelty; they represent a significant shift in how digital assets can be perceived and utilized. This article explores the origins, characteristics, and future potential of meme coins, with a brief mention of one of the notable projects in this space, Sexy Meme Coin.

The Origins of Meme Coins

Meme coins first gained mainstream attention with the creation of Dogecoin in 2013. Dogecoin was initially conceived as a joke by software engineers Billy Markus and Jackson Palmer, who wanted to create a fun alternative to Bitcoin. Featuring the Shiba Inu dog from the popular "Doge" meme as its mascot, Dogecoin quickly garnered a dedicated following. Its community-driven approach and lighthearted nature set it apart from other cryptocurrencies, paving the way for a new category of digital assets.

Despite its humorous beginnings, Dogecoin has demonstrated remarkable staying power. It has been used for various charitable causes, tipping content creators online, and even sponsoring NASCAR teams. The coin's success has inspired a plethora of other meme coins, each seeking to capture the magic formula of humor, community, and financial potential.

Key Characteristics of Meme Coins

Community-Centric: Meme coins thrive on the strength of their communities. Unlike traditional cryptocurrencies, which often focus on technological advancements, meme coins rely heavily on community engagement and social media presence. This grassroots approach helps to build a loyal and enthusiastic user base.

Cultural Relevance: Meme coins are deeply rooted in internet culture and trends. They often reflect the latest memes, jokes, and viral content, making them highly relatable and engaging for users who are active on social media platforms.

Accessibility: The playful and humorous nature of meme coins makes them more approachable for the average person compared to more complex cryptocurrencies. This accessibility helps to attract a wider audience, including those who may not have previously considered investing in digital assets.

High Volatility: The value of meme coins can be extremely volatile, driven by social media trends, celebrity endorsements, and viral moments. While this volatility can lead to significant gains, it also poses substantial risks for investors.

The Appeal of Meme Coins

Meme coins offer a unique blend of entertainment and investment potential. They provide a way for people to engage with cryptocurrency in a fun and light-hearted manner, while still offering the possibility of financial returns. This dual appeal has helped to drive the popularity of meme coins, especially among younger generations who are well-versed in internet culture.

The community-driven nature of meme coins also fosters a sense of belonging and participation. Users feel like they are part of a larger movement, contributing to the success of the coin through their engagement and support. This collective effort can lead to a strong sense of camaraderie and loyalty among users.

Notable Meme Coins

While Dogecoin remains the most well-known meme coin, several other projects have emerged, each with its unique twist on the concept. One such project is Sexy Meme Coin, which combines the world of memes with innovative tokenomics and community engagement. You can learn more about Sexy Meme Coin at Sexy Meme Coin.

The Future of Meme Coins

The future of meme coins is both exciting and uncertain. On the one hand, their ability to capture the zeitgeist of internet culture gives them a unique position within the cryptocurrency landscape. As long as memes continue to be a significant part of online culture, meme coins are likely to maintain their relevance and appeal.

On the other hand, the high volatility and speculative nature of meme coins mean that they can be risky investments. Regulatory scrutiny and market fluctuations could impact their long-term viability. However, the community-driven approach of meme coins provides a strong foundation that can help them weather challenges and adapt to changing circumstances.

Conclusion

Meme coins represent a fascinating intersection of humor, culture, and finance. They have brought a new dimension to the world of cryptocurrency, making it more accessible and engaging for a broad audience. While they come with their own set of risks and uncertainties, the community-centric nature of meme coins offers a compelling case for their continued growth and evolution.

As the cryptocurrency landscape continues to evolve, meme coins like Sexy Meme Coin and others will play a crucial role in shaping the future of digital assets. By combining the power of memes with innovative financial technology, these coins have the potential to create lasting impact and redefine how we think about cryptocurrency.

For those interested in exploring the world of meme coins, Sexy Meme Coin offers a unique and entertaining platform. Visit Sexy Meme Coin to learn more and become part of this exciting movement.

#blockchain #digitalcurrency #digitalassets #crypto #ethereum #defi

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starcrossed-sky · 1 year ago

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Hey Twitter(/Reddit) alternative seekers

Okay, fandom. Everyone's all worked all the time about this or that new alternative to Twitter and how it's either awesome or it sucks. I'm here to tell you about an OLD alternative: Plurk.

(Note that this was originally formatted for Twitter so forgive the jank thread paragraphing)

Disclaimer: This information is specifically aimed at people who use Twitter for fandom purposes; it is not intended to cover the exhaustive list of things that people use Twitter for (professional networking, art/photography promotion world news, etc). It's friend-centric rather than follow-centric, at least as the existing site culture goes.

So what is Plurk? It's a threaded microblogging platform dating back to 2008 that has only ever seen extremely niche use in English-language use. (Its primary userbase is Chinese-speaking.) It has a purely chronological timeline and a lot of privacy features that you haven't seen since the LJ era (assuming you're old enough to remember that).

Plurk functions through an exclusively-chronological timeline on your homepage (desktop) or in the app. Algorithmically sourced content? We ain't got it! (There is a different page for viewing top content but you have to go there specifically.) Instead, your timeline shows your own content and the content of other plurkers you friend or follow, and the occasional ad (MUCH more occasional than Twitter).

Each top-level plurk can be replied to, and this creates a chain of replies that can be used for conversation. Unlike Twitter and Reddit, replies don't form branching threads; each plurk is only one stream of conversation. Plurks with unread replies will be lit up as unread; however, they can be "muted" to stop them from giving you notifications.

(Two small caveats: You cannot mute your own plurks, and there is actually a cap of around 200 muted plurks. Mutes will fall off from the oldest, so you'll sometimes see an ancient plurk pop back up on your timeline if someone comes back to it. You can just mute it again.)

Your plurk timeline has a global privacy control. If your timeline is set to private, only people you have friended can see what you say on there. If your timeline is public, then anyone who comes to you page can see what you've posted, AND logged-in users can share your post on their own timeline with the "replurk" function (works just like a normal retweet), as well as reply to it.

There is also an "anonymous" option, which anonymizes you and also the names of everyone who replies (it randomly generates names like "lemon354" and "libra262" for repliers to differentiate them). Anonymous plurks will stay within your timeline if your plurk is set to private, but can be replurked if it's public.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE, because individual plurks can also be given specific privacy levels: -> Friends only (if your timeline is public but you don't want this one getting around) -> Private to "cliques," which are Twitter circles but you can have more than one -> Individual users (including those not on your friends list - this is plurk's equivalent of DMs)

Your own plurk homepage is also insanely customizable, if you want to break out the CSS or even just have a custom background. You can also alter your display name (though the character cap is VERY short), and your display name color, as well as the standard avatar change. Usernames cannot be changed as a free user, but can be changed by paid users (more on paid options in a second).

Plurk also has its own image hosting, and a pastebin-alike plaintext called Plurk Paste that has no character limit. (The character limit for top-level plurks is longer than Twitter's.)

It also has CUSTOM EMOTES in addition to its (somewhat wild) default selection. They're similar to Discord's customs, except that you can use GIFs from the get go; what's restricted is the number of slots you have as a free user. (And size is capped at 48x48 px.)

Plurk has ads, but they're mostly unobtrusive (and can be clocked entirely with ad blockers, but I didn't say that). Plurk keeps the lights on through a subscription model called Plurk Coin, which is very cheap (under $2.50 USD/month) and can be gifted to other users. Coin gives you a number of benefits including the "Except" privacy option, more username colors, response editing, and a bunch more custom emote slots.

Concerned about harassment? Plurk has one of the most robust blocking systems in social media that I've ever seen. You block someone, and they can't see you (even by going to your profile) and you can't see them. That's it, done. Full no-contact.

NSFW/18+ content is allowed. There's a specific flag for it when you first post a plurk. Plurk does expect you to use that tag when appropriate, but is otherwise very forgiving of NSFW content, at least in my experience. (Again, though, English plurk is a very small community ATM).

The thing to remember about Plurk is that it is very much a remnant of an older internet, from the days before algorithms. Like Tumblr, it's a social media where you won't see anything if you don't reach out to follow and friend people. It predates "going viral" as a goal of internet usage. The goal is to talk to people.

As an aside: Since I originally wrote this up, I've seen rumors about Japanese fanartists moving to plurk and even seen one or two mentions of it in the wild on my Twitter timeline as people talk about following those artists. Fantastic! If that's you, then I hope you find this slightly more in-depth guide to features helpful.

If this sounds up your alley, I've made a public plurk specifically for Twitter refugees to come meet people and get more information on how plurk works! You can find it here.

Twitter version: [link]

Please replurk to spread this information about!

EDIT Sept 7 2024: You can mute your own plurks now, whoo!

#plurk #social media #twitter exodus #reddit exodus #twitter

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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago

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hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it.

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable.

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered.

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he?

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way.

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed.

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done.

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said.

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me.

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain.

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life.

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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rose-matcha-latte · 5 months ago

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JJK Gotcha 4 Gaza!

DONATIONS OPEN: JULY 2-JULY 15 Minimum Donation of $5

hello yes hi, i'm here to promo a jjk event i'll be participating in!

There are over 90 creators for all your fanart and fanfic needs!

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please go check it out!!!

if you would like to check out some of my writing that i'll be doing for this event, please check out my ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtymatchamilktea/works

i mainly write NobaMai but anything Nobara & Mai & Maki centric is also good!

anything from fluff to smut to dead dove-like content for these three i've got you covered

hope to see you at the prompts <3

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fics #jjk art #jujutsu kaisen fics #jujutsu kaisen art #ao3 #my fics #nobamai #nobara x mai #kugisaki nobara #zenin mai #zenin maki #zenin twins #nobamaki #nobara x maki #fics #fics for gaza

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spinthetags · 1 year ago

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(Once again, thank you to @pononoin for the art and @alister312 for the banner!)

We’re thrilled to announce that the interest check was a success, and we’re ready to move onto signups! The signup form will be found at the end of this post, and please make sure to read the rules carefully before filling it out!

So, what is a Secret Santa event?

In a Secret Santa event, each person who participates is both a “Santa” and a “giftee”. Each person will begin their participation by creating a small wishlist of concepts that they would like to see in their gift (more on this later!). The mod (that’s spinthetags) will look over the wishlists and assign each person both a giftee and a Santa. The person participating will be aware of their giftee’s identity — as they’ll receive their wishlist, and be instructed to create a gift somewhat adhering to those wishes — but they won’t be aware of their Santa! Their Santa is the person who will be giving a gift to the original user based on their wishlist.

Here’s an example: Person A asks for a gift relating to Tweek celebrating Christmas with Craig. Person B is assigned to be Person A’s Santa, though Person A doesn’t know it! Person B will then create a gift related to Person A’s ask. In the meantime, Person B is also a Santa — they’ve received Person C’s wishlist, and are creating a gift to their specifications. At the end of the event, everyone will get their gift! Person B will give their Tweek-centric piece to Person A, and Person A will give Person C’s gift to Person C! Consider it kind of like a circle, where everyone will both give and receive a gift.

It’s not as complicated as it may seem! During the course of the event, all each person needs to worry about is creating a work for their giftee. Then, at the end of the event, everyone will exchange their gifts! We encourage posting the work on Tumblr (though other social media sites are definitely allowed!) and tagging your giftee, revealing that you’re their Santa in the process. This will all be reiterated as we get closer to the gift posting date!

Below is our estimated timeline for the event:

October 25th - November 3rd: Signups are open!

November 4th - November 5th - Participants are sent their giftee’s wishlist!

November 6th - January 5th - Participants work on their gifts!

December 20th - January 5th - Gifts are posted!

As you can see, there’s an overlap between the creation of gifts and the posting of gifts; this is because the holidays can be busy for everyone, and we want to give you as much time as possible! You don’t need to post your gift immediately on December 20th — you can instead post it any time between December 20th and January 5th. If you need more time to work, take it! It doesn’t need to be finished by December 20th, as long as it gets shared before January 5th.

So, that’s the basics of the Secret Santa event! But we also have some more rules. Here they are below:

1. All works created for this event must be SFW! Profanity and light suggestiveness (granted the characters are of age) are allowed in line with the show, but no explicit NSFW content may be involved.

2. We ask that works you create are full pieces, or close to such; make sure to put the effort your giftees deserve into your works! We’re not explicitly disallowing sketches or drabbles, but make sure to put the amount of effort into your works that you would like to receive from your Santa!

3. The mods are going to work hard to make sure everyone gets assigned a giftee that they’re comfortable working with! On that note, there will be no switching; once you get assigned your giftee, short of extenuating circumstances, you won’t be given a different one.

4. We understand that things may come up! If you decide you no longer wish to participate in the event, you must let us know by Thanksgiving (November 23rd) so we can find a new Santa for your giftee.

5. Make sure to come into this with an open mind! Not everyone has the same skill level, and we ask you to consider the effort your Santa put in rather than their skill or experience in the medium. Please show your Santa appreciation!

6. The type of media you create can be anything; we expect to see a lot of fanart and fanfiction, but what you can create isn’t limited to that! If you have any doubts about whether your media is allowed, please send us an ask and we’ll get back to you!

On the same note as the rules, here are some guidelines for your wishlists!

- You can be as vague or specific as you would like! It’s encouraged to leave your Santa some wiggle room to exercise their creativity, but there’s no shame in adding specific preferences to your wishlist!

- It’s not required, but we encourage you to include some Holiday-themed requests. Get into the spirit of the season!

- You can put as many requests on your wishlist as you’d like! It’s a good idea to include at least two or three, to give your Santa some options, but there’s no upper limit. Just remember that the more requests you include, the less likely it’ll be that ALL of them will get included.

- Your wishlist can include anything from ships to scenarios to headcanons; anything that you would like to see represented in a work you’re receiving.

- Please be respectful of what’s on a wishlist! Remember that you’re creating the work for your giftee, not for you; even if you disagree with some of the headcanons the user would like, we ask you to still do your reasonable best on including them. If there is anything that you are deeply uncomfortable with creating, there will be a spot on the signup form to enter it, and we’ll make sure you aren’t paired with a user who would like that content.

Here is the link to sign up!

Please note that communications related to this event will be done by email; we encourage you to create a new email for the event if you’re uncomfortable sharing your personal one! Please make sure to check your email at least weekly! Communications will be sent from [email protected].

Thank you to everyone who’s interested in participating! We can’t wait to see what you create!

#south park #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #sp secret santa #south park secret santa #spinthetags

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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Everything advertised on social media is overpriced junk

In “Behavioral Advertising and Consumer Welfare: An Empirical Investigation,” a trio of business researchers from Carnegie Mellon and Pamplin College investigate the difference between the goods purchased through highly targeted online ads and just plain web-searches, and conclude social media ads push overpriced junk:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4398428

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/08/late-stage-sea-monkeys/#jeremys-razors

Specifically, stuff that’s pushed to you via targeted ads costs an average of 10 percent more, and it significantly more likely to come from a vendor with a poor rating from the Better Business Bureau. This may seem trivial and obvious, but it’s got profound implications for media, commercial surveillance, and the future of the internet.

Writing in the New York Times, Julia Angwin — a legendary, muckraking data journalist — breaks down those implications. Angwin builds a case study around Jeremy’s Razors, a business that advertises itself as a “woke-free” shaving solution for manly men:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/04/06/opinion/online-advertising-privacy-data-surveillance-consumer-quality.html

Jeremy’s Razors spends a fucking fortune on ads. According to Facebook’s Ad Library, the company spent $800,000 on FB ads in March, targeting fathers of school-age kids who like Hershey’s, ultimate fighting, hunting or Johnny Cash:

https://pluralistic.net/jeremys-targeting

Anti-woke razors are an objectively, hilariously stupid idea, but that’s not the point here. The point is that Jeremy’s has to spend $800K/month to reach its customers, which means that it either has to accept $800K less in profits, or make it up by charging more and/or skimping on quality.

Targeted advertising is incredibly expensive, and incredibly lucrative — for the ad-tech platforms that sit between creative workers and media companies on one side, and audiences on the other. In order to target ads, ad-tech companies have to collect deep, nonconsensual dossiers on every internet user, full of personal, sensitive and potentially compromising information.

The switch to targeted ads was part of the enshittification cycle, whereby companies like Facebook and Google lured in end-users by offering high-quality services — Facebook showed you the things the people you asked to hear from posted, and Google returned the best search results it could find.

Eventually, those users became locked in. Once all our friends were on Facebook, we held each other hostage, each unable to leave because the others were there. Google used its access to the capital markets to snuff out any rival search companies, spending tens of billions every year to be the default on Apple devices, for example.

Once we were locked in, the tech giants made life worse for us in order to make life better for media companies and advertisers. Facebook violated its promise to be the privacy-centric alternative to Myspace, where our data would never be harvested; it switched on mass surveillance and created cheap, accurate ad-targeting:

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876?ln=en

Google fulfilled the prophecy in its founding technical document, the Pagerank paper: “advertising funded search engines will be inherently biased towards the advertisers and away from the needs of the consumers.” They, too, offered cheap, highly targeted ads:

http://infolab.stanford.edu/~backrub/google.html

Facebook and Google weren’t just kind to advertisers — they also gave media companies and creative workers a great deal, funneling vast quantities of traffic to both. Facebook did this by cramming media content into the feeds of people who hadn’t asked to see it, displacing the friends’ posts they had asked to see. Google did it by upranking media posts in search results.

Then we came to the final stage of the enshittification cycle: having hooked both end-users and business customers, Facebook and Google withdrew the surpluses from both groups and handed them to their own shareholders. Advertising costs went up. The share of ad income paid to media companies went down. Users got more ads in their feeds and search results.

Facebook and Google illegally colluded to rig the ad-market with a program called Jedi Blue that let the companies steal from both advertisers and media companies:

https://techcrunch.com/2022/03/11/google-meta-jedi-blue-eu-uk-antitrust-probes/

Apple blocked Facebook’s surveillance on its mobile devices, but increased its own surveillance of Iphone and Ipad users in order to target ads to them, even when those users explicitly opted out of spying:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Today, we live in the enshittification end-times, red of tooth and claw, where media companies’ revenues are dwindling and advertisers’ costs are soaring, and the tech giants are raking in hundreds of billions, firing hundreds of thousands of workers, and pissing away tens of billions on stock buybacks:

https://doctorow.medium.com/mass-tech-worker-layoffs-and-the-soft-landing-1ddbb442e608

As Angwin points out, in the era before behavioral advertising, Jeremy’s might have bought an ad in Deer & Deer Hunting or another magazine that caters to he-man types who don’t want woke razors; the same is true for all products and publications. Before mass, non-consensual surveillance, ads were based on content and context, not on the reader’s prior behavior.

There’s no reason that ads today couldn’t return to that regime. Contextual ads operate without surveillance, using the same “real-time bidding” mechanism to place ads based on the content of the article and some basic parameters about the user (rough location based on IP address, time of day, device type):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/05/behavioral-v-contextual/#contextual-ads

Context ads perform about as well as behavioral ads — but they have a radically different power-structure. No media company will ever know as much about a given user as an ad-tech giant practicing dragnet surveillance and buying purchase, location and finance data from data-brokers. But no ad-tech giant knows as much about the context and content of an article as the media company that published it.

Context ads are, by definition, centered on the media company or creative worker whose work they appear alongside of. They are much harder for tech giants to enshittify, because enshittification requires lock-in and it’s hard to lock in a publication who knows better than anyone what they’re publishing and what it means.

We should ban surveillance advertising. Period. Companies should not be allowed to collect our data without our meaningful opt-in consent, and if that was the standard, there would be no data-collection:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/22/myob/#adtech-considered-harmful

Remember when Apple created an opt out button for tracking, more than 94 percent of users clicked it (the people who clicked “yes” to “can Facebook spy on you?” were either Facebook employees, or confused):

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/02/02/facebook-says-apple-ios-privacy-change-will-cost-10-billion-this-year.html

Ad-targeting enables a host of evils, like paid political disinformation. It also leads to more expensive, lower-quality goods. “A Raw Deal For Consumers,” Sumit Sharma’s new Consumer Reports paper, catalogs the many other costs imposed on Americans due to the lack of tech regulation:

https://advocacy.consumerreports.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/A-Raw-Deal-for-US-Consumers_March-2023.pdf

Sharma describes the benefits that Europeans will shortly enjoy thanks to the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Digital Services Act, from lower prices to more privacy to more choice, from cloud gaming on mobile devices to competing app stores.

However, both the EU and the US — as well as Canada and Australia — have focused their news industry legislating on misguided “link taxes,” where tech giants are required to pay license fees to link to and excerpt the news. This is an approach grounded in the mistaken idea that tech giants are stealing media companies’ content — when really, tech giants are stealing their money:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/18/news-isnt-secret/#bid-shading

Creating a new pseudocopyright to control who can discuss the news is a terrible idea, one that will make the media companies beholden to the tech giants at a time when we desperately need deep, critical reporting on the tech sector. In Canada, where Bill C-18 is the latest link tax proposal in the running to become law, we’re already seeing that conflict of interest come into play.

As Jesse Brown and Paula Simons — a veteran reporter turned senator — discuss on the latest Canadaland podcast, the Toronto Star’s sharp and well-reported critical series on the tech giants died a swift and unexplained death immediately after the Star began receiving license fees for tech users’ links and excerpts from its reporting:

https://www.canadaland.com/paula-simons-bill-c-18/

Meanwhile, in Australia, the proposed “news bargaining code” stampeded the tech giants into agreeing to enter into “voluntary” negotiations with the media companies, allowing Rupert Murdoch’s Newscorp to claim the lion’s share of the money, and then conduct layoffs across its newsrooms.

While in France, the link tax depends on publishers integrating with Google Showcase, a product that makes Google more money from news content and makes news publishers more dependent on Google:

https://www.politico.eu/article/french-competition-authority-greenlights-google-pledges-over-paying-news-publishers/

A link tax only pays for so long as the tech giants remain dominant and continue to extract the massive profits that make them capable of paying the tax. But legislative action to fix the ad-tech markets, like Senator Mike Lee’s ad-tech breakup bill (cosponsored by both Ted Cruz and Elizabeth Warren!) would shift power to publishers, and with it, money:

https://www.lee.senate.gov/2023/3/the-america-act

With ad-tech intermediaries scooping up 50% or more of every advertising dollar, there is plenty of potential to save news without the need for a link tax. If unrigging the ad-tech market drops the platforms’ share of advertising dollars to a more reasonable 10%, then the advertisers and publishers could split the remainder, with advertisers spending 20% less and publishers netting 20% more.

Passing a federal privacy law would end surveillance advertising at the stroke of a pen, shifting the market to context ads that let publishers, not platforms, call the shots. As an added bonus, the law would stop Tiktok from spying on Americans, and also end Google, Facebook, Apple and Microsoft’s spying to boot:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

Mandating competition in app stores — as the Europeans are poised to do — would kill Google and Apple’s 30% “app store tax” — the percentage they rake off of every transaction from every app on Android and Ios. Drop that down to the 2–5% that the credit cards charge, and every media outlet’s revenue-per-subscriber would jump by 25%.

Add to that an end-to-end rule for tech giants requiring them to deliver updates from willing receivers to willing senders, so every newsletter you subscribed to would stay out of your spam folder and every post by every media company or creator you followed would show up in your feed:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

That would make it impossible for tech giants to use the sleazy enshittification gambit of forcing creative workers and media companies to pay to “boost” their content (or pay $8/month for a blue tick) just to get it in front of the people who asked to see it:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

The point of enshittification is that it’s bad for everyone except the shareholders of tech monopolists. Jeremy’s Razors are bad, winning a 2.7 star rating out of five:

https://www.facebook.com/JeremysRazors/reviews

The company charges more for these substandard razors, and you are more likely to find out about them, because of targeted, behavioral ads. These ads starve media companies and creative workers and make social media and search results terrible.

A link tax is predicated on the idea that we need Big Tech to stay big, and to dribble a few crumbs for media companies, compromising their ability to report on their deep-pocketed beneficiaries, in a way that advantages the biggest media companies and leaves small, local and independent press in the cold.

By contrast, a privacy law, ad-tech breakups, app-store competition and end-to-end delivery would shatter the power of Big Tech and shift power to users, creative workers and media companies. These are solutions that don’t just keep working if Big Tech goes away — they actually hasten that demise! What’s more, they work just as well for big companies as they do for independents.

Whether you’re the New York Times or you’re an ex-Times reporter who’s quit your job and now crowdfunds to cover your local school board and town council meetings, shifting control and the share of income is will benefit you, whether or not Big Tech is still in the picture.

Have you ever wanted to say thank you for these posts? Here’s how you can: I’m kickstarting the audiobook for my next novel, a post-cyberpunk anti-finance finance thriller about Silicon Valley scams called Red Team Blues. Amazon’s Audible refuses to carry my audiobooks because they’re DRM free, but crowdfunding makes them possible.

Image: freeimageslive.co.uk (modified) http://www.freeimageslive.co.uk/free_stock_image/using-mobile-phone-jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

[Image ID: A man's hand holds a mobile phone. Its screen displays an Instagram ad. The ad has been replaced with a slice of a vintage comic book 'small ads' page.]

#pluralistic #ad-tech #ads #surveillance ads #commercial surveillance #behavioral ads #contextual ads #link taxes #platform economics #enshittification #instagram #julia angwin #end to end

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cozage · 1 year ago

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The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 1: Sick with Dread

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

There are a lot of new people here who may not know I have an ongoing series, so here's a little info about it. It started as a request and quickly grew into a multichapter fic (the longest one I've ever created!) The reader is Whitebeard's Daughter, who has a volcano devil fruit ability and who has been away for two years, only to return and meet a familiar spunky fire user. There's nineteen chapters before this, so you might want to go read those first for some background information, but we've just entered the start of what leads to the Marineford arc, so things are about to get real. It's a commitment, but I believe it's worth it if you're looking for a character-centric in-depth story!

If you're keeping up with the story, releases will be on Monday and Thursday unless I say otherwise!

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.5k

You were fairly certain you were about to die. Jinx hadn’t left you alone for days. Jinx, who couldn’t stand you or your presence. Jinx, who only saw you as competition from the moment Ace saved her from that stupid box and she claimed him as her own.

That cat had hated you from the moment it saw you. But now she was curled up on your chest, sleeping soundly. You could’ve sworn she was just waiting for the moment your heart stopped, so she could boastfully sit atop your corpse. That’s just how Jinx was.

You couldn’t blame her; you were an easy target right now. The Spring ecosystem you were in had completely messed with your allergies. It was only a matter of time before she would be able to smother you and completely get away with murder. Some days you were so sick, you couldn’t even get out of bed to go throw up. Today was one of those days.

You were sick from allergies and sick with worry. It was one day past due for Thatch to report back to the ship before the crew would have to send in a second team. He could’ve been caught, or killed, or tied up and made a mockery of. You had plenty of time to think about it, since you were basically bedridden at this point.

You were certain the commanders and strategists were all thinking of a plan to go find out what had occurred, but it would take at least two days to mobilize them. And in that time, Thatch could be taken away or sunk to the bottom of the ocean. It hurt to breathe just thinking about it.

The door opened quietly, and you heard Ace’s voice from the doorframe. “Are you awake?” he whispered. “I have someone here for you.”

“I’m awake,” you said, your voice scratchy and raw. You almost got your hopes up about the visitor, but Ace sounded solemn, which was a good indicator that the visitor wasn’t Thatch.

Marco stepped inside instead, and you groaned at his appearance. “Just let me die, Marco. Leave me alone.”

He hummed, frowning over your body as you laid in bed. “I’d really like to run some tests,” Marco said. “The concept of fever and colds are completely foreign to your body, and yet something is clearly off. You shouldn’t be this sick for so long.”

“Or maybe the substitute cook has been cooking so badly he gave me food poisoning that’s lasted the past two weeks,” you shot back. “I want Thatch back.”

“I know.” Marco sat down on the bed next to you. “He’ll be home soon. In the meantime, let me get some bloodwork to check out.”

“No,” you hissed, pulling your arm away from him. “I told you, it’s just allergies.”

Marco looked at you with skepticism. He knew that it wasn’t just allergies, and you did too.

“Allergies don’t make people throw up,” he reminded you gently.

“Worry does,” you argued. “And so does food poisoning. So leave me alone.”

“If you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m taking your blood by force,” Marco said, getting up and heading for the door. He gave Ace a knowing look, as if to say “Good luck!” and then left you two alone.

Marco had dealt with your varieties of illnesses over the years, and he knew you were too stubborn and whiny to listen to any of his advice. But for Ace, this was relatively new territory. You had been sick a few times over the past few months, but it had never been anything serious. Not like this. But you had been sick with worry ever since Thatch left. Something just didn’t feel right about this mission.

Ace laid down next to you and began to brush your matted hair from your face, but instantly pulled back.

He scowled at you. “I know you’re upset and want to be alone, but you don’t have to burn me.”

“I’m tired and I want to rest,” you groaned, turning away from him in bed. “Just let me sleep for a little bit, please?”

Ace sighed and got up from the bed. It was clear Marco must’ve given him some pointers.

“I’ll let you know if I hear any news about Thatch, okay?”

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying your best to sound normal.

The door opened and with a soft click of the door handle, he was gone.

You hadn’t meant to burn him, but you couldn’t let him know that. Your powers had been a little haywire recently. You were overloaded on stress and high emotions, and though you had thought you had gotten that mostly under control, it seemed that your powers sometimes had a mind of their own.

You’d be more concerned about it, but you were so damn tired that you fell asleep before you had time to think too hard.

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but you woke again to Ace’s voice, jostling you awake.

“Y/N,” he whispered, shaking you lightly. “Thatch is back.”

You sat up immediately, looking around the room. The sudden motion made Jinx hiss and bolt away from you, but you didn’t care. At least she was acting normal again.

“Where?” you asked.

“Out on the deck.”

You jumped up, ignoring the queasy feeling in your gut, and took off towards the deck. As you emerged, the setting sun illuminated the ship in a golden glow. You scanned the ship, desperately searching for him. He was here, somewhere. He had to be.

And then you found him, his pompadour hair making him stand out from the crowd.

“Thatch!” You screamed, running towards him.

His eyes moved over to you and he broke out into a massive grin, holding his arms open to catch you.

You slammed into him with such force, the two of you almost fell to the ground. But he kept you steady, like he always did. You did your best to keep the tears out of your eyes, but you were so relieved that he was okay.

“I told you I’d be back,” he said, rubbing your back.

“You’re late,” you sobbed into his chest. “You promised two weeks.”

“Will you forgive me?”

You pulled away from him, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I guess I can this time. Just don’t do it again.”

He smiled and gave you a nod. “Yes ma’am. You have my word.”

You had been so happy to see him, you hadn’t realized he had come back with a prize.

“You found a devil fruit?” you asked, looking at it skeptically.

“I did!” Thatch grinned, holding it out for you to see. “Take a look!”

You took the fruit from him and examined it. It was a small purple fruit that looked relatively unimpressive. There was no real indication of what it did exactly. But still, finding a devil fruit was a great feat, even on the Grand Line.

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked, still checking it over for any indication of what it could be.

“Not sure yet,” Thatch admitted. “I’m not sure I want to lose my ability to swim, especially if it’s a lame power. I might just sell it.”

You nodded. “There’s no good way to tell what it does, really. Probably better selling it than taking a risk for a lame power.”

“Pretty cool though, huh?!” He stood proud and tall.

“You’ve got color again!” Marco called, walking over to the two of you. “She was sick with worry, you know.”

Thatch laughed and pulled you in for another hug. “It was definitely a challenge. You were right, we were better off taking a few members from Division Two. But we made it work.”

“I knew you would,” you said, giving him a tight squeeze. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from you and addressing the crowd. “Let’s eat!”

He took his devil fruit back from you and headed for the kitchen. Your appetite was back now that your cook was back. All felt right with the world.

“You look better,” Ace said, grabbing your hand with his own.

“I feel better,” you admitted. “God, I was so nervous. It feels so silly looking back on it.”

Ace pulled you in, dropping a sweet kiss on your lips that tasted like cinnamon.

You pulled away from him, grinning giddily. “Did the commanders do Welcome Back shots?”

Ace gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe two or three,” he admitted. “You weren’t the only one who was nervous today.”

That was a little bit of a relief. Everyone else had kept such cool demeanors, you were worried you had been overreacting. But everyone had been nervous, they were all just better at hiding it. But now the anxiety that had covered the ship was nothing but a fading memory.

“Let's go eat,” you said, pulling him along with you. You were excited to finally have food that agreed with your stomach again, and finally felt like you could eat in peace.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @aikochan4859 @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707

(if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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