#return of the king 😌
nintooner horny on main moment, call that ninboner
(this is a bad joke and I apologize deeply for it)
Ninboner finally returns, and not during October for once, what a wonderful surprise 😆
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OH WAIT HOLY SHIT TUMBLR SUPPORT ACTUALLY CAME IN CLUTCH FOR ONCE IM BACK POG
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promise - 8 (knj)
Chapter 8: Late October Water Fights
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Summary- Your friends and you enjoy Jackson’s Halloween party, despite some tears.
word count- 2.7k
pairing- college!Namjoon (previously asshole!Namjoon) x Reader
genre- collegeau, e2l, idiots2l, fluff, slight angst
warnings- Seokjin is a flirt, Namjoon’s still a dumbass, and bangtan are still in slutty costumes 😌
a.n- hello! i wanted to wait to post this but im impatient. hope you enjoy this new chapter!
special s/o to @taegularities and @btsmosphere for beta reading. 💕
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌
taglist- @namyoongles-deactivated20210305, @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @hapenguin, @lochness-butmakeitsexy, @joonlore, @thisisval, @honeyj00ns, @awhnamjoon, @kaithezaftig, @rjsmochii, @taegularities, @codeinebelle, @we8joon, @piecesofapril11, @sweetjellyfishland, @jooniesbanoonies
Send me an ask to be on the taglist!
The little crowd that had gathered around the table in the kitchen screamed in celebration as Seokjin landed the little white ball into the last cup, effectively ending the game much to the disappointment of Jungkook and Jisoo, who groaned loudly. Jungkook started calling foul as Seokjin hugged you in victory, spinning you around as you laughed. Turns out, in addition to being extremely handsome, Seokjin had great aim, making this the third game the two of you had won.
“They can’t win Best Dressed and Beer Pong! That’s unfair!” Jimin whined, still annoyed that your rendition of “mismatched home outfit” - his words - had won over his expensive “hand-stitched” playboy bunny outfit, which in all reality was a set of bunny ears and tail from Party City, and a pair of expensive leather booty shorts that he already owned.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Jiminie,” you joked as you pet his head, your totally non-canon heels making it easier for you to reach him than usual. He scowled in return, shrugging you off but couldn’t help break into a laugh as you stumbled, giggly and inebriated. That last game had really pushed you from tipsy to drunk. Despite the way Seokjin was taunting Jungkook, your win was pure luck. Jungkook and Jisoo were insanely good at beer pong and even before you started, you were seeing in two.
Jackson, the gracious host, put the paper crowns he had stolen from Burger King earlier that day on your and Seokjin’s heads, declaring you the Beer Pong champions. Those along with the pink dollar store sashes with ‘Best Costume’ sharpied on above the striked-out embroidered ‘Bride to Be’ really added to your looks as the two of you waved to the crowd, beaming as if you were prom king and queen. Jungkook and Jisoo, quickly recovering from their loss, cackled at the display before bowing to the two of you and pretending to be raving fans asking for autographs and photos. Even Yoongi and Jieun who were dressed like Chucky and Tiffany but looking extremely adorable rather than scary, applauded, joining in the antics as Seokjin and you curtsied.
You could feel the alcohol drumming in your veins as a red-faced Yoongi handed you another drink. This was probably the most fun you’d had in a very long time. You felt lighter, like you were on top of the world, and your ego was soaring with your multiple wins and Seokjin’s not so subtle flirting.
“Let’s dance!” Amber yelled as Kendrick’s Humble started blasting through the speakers, her arms lifted in the air and her hips swaying as she started doing the dougie. Joining your friend, you swayed to the music, singing at the top of your lungs as you aggressively moved your hands to the rap. Soon your group was moving towards the living room, the makeshift dance floor of the night, and stuffing through the narrow kitchen door and hallway in a weird rendition of a conga line. You would all be cringing in embarrassment were it not for the copious amounts of drinks in your system.
Seokjin’s hands met your waist as he guided you with the crowd, his touch on your bare skin sending tingles down your spine. With a sip of your drink, you felt uncharacteristically forward as you leaned back, molding your body to his, your free hand on the back of his neck, giggling at his startled expression and enjoying the way his ears turned red. Seokjin may have been shamelessly flirting with you all night, but this was the first time you had reciprocated and you could tell by the look on his face that he had not expected anything to come of his countless remarks.
You grinded against him slightly as he continued to move you in the direction of the living room, albeit much slower than before, his heavy lidded eyes gazing into yours as he started to match the movement of your hips. Your friends rolled their eyes as they left you both behind, in a hurry to dance.
Usually you would be very against sleeping with someone in your friend group, the only exception being Jungkook who you had only slept with in a mutual effort to rid each other of your virginities. Sleeping with him felt somewhat platonic, the two of you high-fiving afterwards after the not-awkward-but-definitely-odd experience. However, Seokjin looked at you like he wanted to devour you, and although his compliments earlier ranged from cringe to cheesy, the way he gripped your waist made heat rise up your neck.
“Don’t play a game you can’t finish, princess,” he said, an eyebrow raised in challenge. He had been calling you princess all night because of your costume, but there was no mirth in the nickname anymore, the word wrapping around his deep tenor in a way that made you flustered. You raked your brain for a witty retort, but before you could think of anything, your foot caught on something, causing you to stumble forward, tripping to the ground, despite Seokjin’s best efforts to catch you.
“What the fuck,” you whined, massaging your right knee that took the brunt of your fall, and you looked for the cause of your tumble, while Seokjin worriedly asked you if you were okay.
You expected an abandoned shoe, perhaps a bottle that someone had dropped for Jackson to pick up later, but what you did not expect was to see Namjoon leaning against the wall, eyes closed with his head leaned back and arms on the ass of Xena, the Warrior Princess who pulled at his cerulean hair as she suckled on his neck. The ridiculous staff that he had insisted on carrying to the party to complete his costume was angled a little too far from the wall, perfectly displaying who was responsible for tripping you. Kim Namjoon.
You seethed as Seokjin helped you up, abruptly forgetting about your earlier flirting with the broad shouldered man and instead enveloped in a burning rage. How dare he not even notice his stupid staff made you fall?
“Kim Namjoon!” you screeched, startling him as his eyes popped open, face flushed as he pushed the girl away from him. “How fucking dare you, you piece of shit?”
Namjoon scowled at the insult, opening his mouth to argue, but before he could, he was cut off by Seokjin, his voice small, barely audible over the music.
“Byul-yi?” he asked as his eyes met Xena’s, blinking in disbelief, and you watched Namjoon’s eyes widen as he registered who was accompanying you. You didn’t know what happened, but as soon as Seokjin spoke, you could feel the tension increase. The two men looked at each other and despite Namjoon’s bigger height, he seemed to cower in front of Seokjin who stared at him with fiery eyes.
“Jin, fuck. It doesn’t mean anything,” Namjoon explained as his friend crossed his arms, refusing to acknowledge his many apologies. You didn’t have much time to dwell on the odd turn of events, your anger dimming into confusion, and then to concern as Yoongi walked up to you and pulled you aside.
“Hobi’s crying,” he whispered, concern dripping from his frown, and you felt your heart stop. Hoseok was many things, but being emotional was not one of them. The only time you had seen him cry was when you forced him to watch the Conjuring, and he sobbed in an effort to make you turn it off. Hoseok crying was rare, but Hoseok crying at a party was almost an impossibility. With your heart in your throat, you worriedly followed Yoongi upstairs to one of the rooms.
When he opened the door, the room seemed empty. It was a small room consisting only of a twin bed and a desk, faded posters of muscle cars and emo bands decorating the walls, and the only light source a lit lamp on the desk. Your eyes searched the room before a sniffle from your right reached you and you spotted Hoseok next to the door, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, staring into seemingly nowhere as tears rolled down his face.
You were immediately at his side, falling on your knees as you moved into his line of sight, tentatively touching his hand. You called his name and he blinked as if just realizing that you were there, before his face scrunched in pain and he sobbed, his hand in a fist pressed to his lips in an effort to control his volume. You pulled him to you, his face on your chest and arms around his head as he leaned into you, holding on to you tightly.
“You good?” Yoongi mouthed from the doorway before leaving at your nod, shutting the door behind him. As much as it pained Yoongi to leave his friend in pain, Hoseok had insisted on talking to you, refusing to tell him the cause of his current state, so with a heavy heart he pretended everything was okay as he made his way back to the living room.
“Hobi, baby, what’s wrong?” you asked gently once his shaking had decreased, but he just shook his head, leaning further into you as you settled on the floor, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” you conceded, and he cried harder, dampening the front of your shirt.
You didn’t know how long it had been since you had entered the room. Your concern for Hoseok was quickly sobering you up when he finally lifted his head away from you to lean his back against the wall behind him. He had somewhat collected himself, tears no longer flowing but eyes puffy from earlier. You leaned forward, wiping his face before sitting next to him, shoulder to shoulder. He held your hand in both of his, squeezing as if to soothe himself before taking a deep breath.
“Do… Do you think I’m unlovable?” he asked timidly, refusing to look at you.
“Hobi, what?” you asked in shock, a lump forming in your throat as you looked at his profile in concern. Hoseok sounded broken when he chuckled hollowly at your question, a hand leaving yours to reach into the pocket of his red trunks to pull out his vape. He didn’t answer you as he lifted it to his lips, the green light glowing and a few puffs of smoke leaving his nostrils as he exhaled. His other hand stayed tightly intertwined with yours as he took a few more drags before passing it to you.
“She laughed at me,” he said, a defeated laugh leaving his lips, as he finally looked at you, a small smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. Although the marijuana was meant to calm you down, you felt ire rise up your chest, and you tried to control your reaction. Who the fuck did what now?
“Who? What happened, Hobi?” You controlled your reaction, taking another drag and passing the vape to him. He did the same before answering.
“I told her I wanted to be with her, and she thought I was joking,” he replied sadly, fidgeting with the whistle around his neck, his hand squeezing yours. “I think I love her, YN.”
You had no idea who Hoseok could be talking about. He was notorious for never hooking up with someone more than once, guarding his heart behind the bravado of a joyous fuckboy. Guilt itched under your skin at his words. The past month you had been so busy with classes and your little feud with Namjoon, you had barely noticed Hoseok’s absence. How had you missed him falling in love? Sure, he tended to never talk about his romantic life, but you should’ve noticed a difference.
Not wanting Hoseok to close off again, you let him continue after he took another drag. He told you of the girl he had met at the beginning of fall, stringing a poetic description of her features. What had started as a drunken hook up at a club, had turned into a regular occurrence, one that ended with him wanting to stay for the first time, wanting to hear her opinions on television, on life, slowly making him give her his heart. It was odd hearing Hoseok speak about her as if she was a deity, in between sniffles from his heartbreak. The heartbreak that came when she, unaware of the depth of Hoseok’s feelings, thought he was kidding when he confessed.
“I didn’t really mind much when she said it, but as soon as she got dressed and left… I don’t know…” he trailed off, pocketing his vape as he looked at you with red rimmed eyes, his lips in a tight line. “I felt empty…”
Your anger was diminishing at the mystery girl as Hoseok told you his story. It seemed more like a case of miscommunication that would be easily resolved once everyone was sobered up, but you didn’t want to minimize your friend’s feelings. Moving your arm around his shoulders, you pulled him closer and he leaned his head on your shoulders, hugging you as you whispered affirmations to him. The two of you sat in silence after for a while, the only sound in the room that of the muffled music coming from behind the door.
After a while, you both decided to head home, and you fixed his face, hoping that no one would notice the evidence of his vulnerability in the puffiness of his eyes in their intoxicated state. You left the room hand in hand, not bothering to look for your friends. Hoseok smiled as you stepped outside, pulling you into a hug on the driveway.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he said against your hair and you squeezed him tight. When you pulled away, his face seemed brighter and he giggled, leading you towards the street. He had barely reached the sidewalk when you heard a loud smack, icy water splashing off of Hoseok onto you.
“Water fight!” Jungkook’s voice echoed around the quiet neighbourhood as a water balloon now hit you square in the back. Turning around, the two of you were faced with your friend group, each holding a water balloon with a large bucket full of the little weapons standing beside them. Your first reaction was to be upset at your friends’ utter disregard for Hoseok, and the temperature, the late October wind already biting at your skin, but before you could voice your concerns, Hoseok started laughing. It was his usual laugh, loud and vibrant as he doubled over.
He ran towards the bucket, grabbing an armful of balloons and aiming it at Yoongi who gleefully returned the attack, and soon the lot of you were running around the large front yard, drenched. You chased Jimin after he landed a balloon right on your face, aiming for his head but only succeeding to knock his ears off as Jungkook and Jieun attacked Jisoo.
Soon, the balloons were all gone and all that remained were your group’s loud cackles as adrenaline and alcohol mixed into a warm concoction that protected you from the cold.
“I love you guys,” Hoseok gushed, and everyone came to hug him tightly. He blushed at the attention, whining when the group hug lasted longer than he thought it would.
Saying your goodbyes, Jungkook, Jisoo, Hoseok and you ran towards your apartment, high from the night ending on a good note. The four of you ordered McDonald’s as per tradition before taking turns in the bathroom and feasting, cuddled on the couch.
You didn’t remember when you fell asleep, but a loud noise woke you up. Startled, you sat up, the blanket falling from around you as Hoseok grumbled next to you, still asleep on the couch. Your eyes zeroed in on the front door where Namjoon stood, head in his hands.
You called his name when he didn’t move for a while, before standing up and walking towards him and he finally looked up.
“I fucked up,” he said, resigned with his voice hoarse.
You gasped as you caught sight of his bruised lip and bleeding nose.
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Oh.. Oh my God- I’m shook. I can’t believe I was that blind WHATT how did I miss that?? Oh my, this was a really enlightening theory to read! Since the real Kunikida Doppo was her husband, I do believe something was implied by the creators, but I don’t believe it’s completely true, I think there are too many holes to fill like what you just said (he was already an ADA employee when the Azure King stuff happened, right? Plus that woman didn’t seem to know him but we can’t really read her mind)
And about Dazai’s last words, if he knew the “truth”, then why didn’t he form his sentences according to that? They were alone, he could have said something along the lines of “You wouldn’t want to return back to those days would you” or something like that. It just doesn’t add up, but it doesn’t change the fact that it deserves being thought upon. 🤔
Another possibility is that Kunikida lost his memory, but he remembers the details of the case, would it be possible that he only forgot that he was the Azure King? Is he being manipulated to think that it was someone else? And is that woman aware of it and acting according to that? I don’t know I have too many questions😂
But honestly the lack of information we have on Kunikida’s past really intrigues me. I don’t want to don’t buy all this “maths teacher” stuff😤 We know many more things about that attractive waste of bandages like how is that even possible.
I'm so glad you found it enlightening! When I read it too I was shook haha. But yeah it doesn't really add up, but I thought it is an interesting angle to think about his character!😌
And yeah about Dazai's words! I rewatched that part just now (just to make sure) but Kunikida cut off Dazai after he said that the flames of the Azure king will burn in him and his surroundings... Could it be possible that he is afraid Dazai knows and will say those words next if this theory is true? I have no idea😭😭 But there's also so many holes in this theory.
And yeah maybe he lost his memory! The theory I linked discussed something similar as well🤔
And yes I agree, there's so much about Kunikida that we're missing. What made him who he is? What happened in his past that led him to following such strict ideals? Why is he so intent on saving people? And that he would go so far as to die as seen in the OVA to fulfill his ideals??
And I very much appreciate all the backstory I got for Dazai😌 But I would love to know about the others too!! Their stories all seem to have so much potential ahhh
I've read this and think you will find it interesting and perhaps relatable! The third point has manga spoilers so if you don't want to be spoiled don't go beyond that point, I also personally only briefly skimmed through it as I hadn't read it either☺
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Bruuuuh 700?? You deserve each and every one my dearest horny friend 😌
I’m a trans dude with a passion for the arts. I love to sketch and I while I write almost everything, I have a passion for free form poetry. If you’re into horoscopes you’ll know I’m a stereotypical Scorpio personality. My MBTI is INFP. I love animals and I have empathy for every living creature (even the ones that scare me shitless!). I communicate my love language through gifts (I love picking out jewelry and clothes for my loved ones!) and I prefer to receive quality time or acts of service in return. I’m very ambitious in education and career, but not so much a family man.
Alright, that’s my fictional dating bio, so go ahead and find me a marvel man!
Bix, ilysm dude <3 Ofc, I ship you with...
Forgive me if I'm projecting a tiny bit here, but as a very typical October Scorpio myself, I feel like you and Tony have that ✨vibe✨! Tones would definitely appreciate all your dedication and your passion and while he doesn't know much about arts or 'free' sciences, he would be very much down to learn. I'm seeing a definite Power Couple typa beat in your future because while spawning is great and such, having your names domineer your respective fields of choice is equally thrilling. As our empathetic, flexible bi king, Tony would be down with pretty much anything that brings you joy 😌
Bonus: Tony has no clue how to react when it's you who starts buying him stuff. And usually it's something very on point too, so he makes attempts to reprocitate - but gets even more confused when you're happier after a day spent sleeping in and just being with eachother. He's a genius, though, and he definitely figures it out.
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Wanted to stash this away for later, since I’m hooked on writing something from it... My clownery throws off the mood, so now we savor the angst like a hot cup of tea 😌
The prince is presumed slain at the six-hundred day siege of Ba Sing Se. His remains are never found. Iroh would almost prefer it that way, prays his ashes are carried away by the winds, and solemnly returns home.
Home is what Lu Ten dreams of for the next excruciating few years. Maybe it’s longer than that, or even shorter - each moment stretched out to a thousand. It’s cold and miserable under Lake Laogai, and a city’s secret police force doesn’t take kindly to a two-year long siege. No kindness is spared when the general’s own son is dragged into the endless maze of dark, winding corridors.
He hears his friends die. Sometimes he watches. Lu Ten always hears of it, one way or another. He can recall few days in the searing sunlight: another bumbling citizen, loyal servant to the Earth King, a guard who never marches out of rhythm.
When he crawls out into daylight, bloodied and irreparably scarred, he runs without looking back, with such aimless direction that the search for him is abandoned. He should turn up dead soon enough, and his memories are nonexistent - why bother?
But if his years in captivity amount to anything, Lu Ten was a survivor. He races across the Earth Kingdom, keeping to the shadows, into the treacherous heat of the Si Wong - finally guided to the spirits. If his father’s journey into the Spirit World in search of him had any role, the prince never finds out. He collapses after a much-needed drink, and witnesses a blurred, blue wolf carry him to refuge, where the Mother of Faces and the great owl greet him.
She tries her best to fashion a new face and mind, though the Dai Li’s scars are preserved in both: tired lines and blinding thoughts. Wan Shi Tong opens the library’s doors, pitying the years of knowledge stripped from him. The soldier leaves after recovering, repurposed from royalty into a man with no worth to his name except the scroll in his fist - Zhao.
Able to bend, and a cold shell of himself, content with that much of both. He leaves a wing of the library in flames. Prince Lu Ten had drowned in Lake Laogai, roamed the above world until another victim could take his place - the half-existence of the Shuî Guî. Now it was his turn to hunt.
In the years he struggles to rebuild, old scars resurface. General Xu’s troops find him a rambling madman, patch him up in the short time he serves on land, then ship him off to better uses in the navy. Zhao’s obscure story begins and ends with the scroll, and the man himself is repulsive, so he’s left to his devices. Deserted within a roiling mind, as dark and endless as the Dai Li’s fortress.
By the year the Firelord’s brother and son arrive at his harbor, he remembers enough to choose to take the truth with him to the grave. Zhao grows to hate their faces; when Iroh grows to hate him, too, he’s convinced it’s too late.
Fate is unkind, in the end. Instead of drowning the Water Tribe civilization, he’s dragged under the freezing current. The cycle folds in on itself, a Shuî Guî doomed to wander the Fog of Lost Souls. One day, a familiar face appears... regards him with sad, aged eyes... and turns away with a shake of his head.
“I came marching home...” He raises his voice across the fog, hoarse. “I searched, I fought, and I killed. For you!”
“... Then you are no son of mine.”
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I get the osomatsu-san thing... sometimes you get balls deep into something and you just have to go with it. Ive experienced that many times myself. i hope you like the new emery lore/character detail if you ever go back to your pl sideblog - amii
Thank u king 😌 I will love it when I return
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11, 4, 2 und 18 (tun wir mal so, als wüsste ich das noch nicht)
11. favourite native writer/poet?
A polarizing question. I will interpret this as Only The Big Old Names and i am not willing to get cancelled for naming any of the following, well. Men from the past.
The people will disagree but ive romanticized Schiller to the point of no return. Did i particularly like reading Kabale or Die Glocke? Absolutely not. But. And its a big butt. He was gay, he didnt know.
Kafka. I said what i said.
Büchner. This man is a king and a legend. Bringing out like 5 absolute bangers just to pass away at the age of 23.
Kästner. Yes... yes.... Again i said what i said.
Whoever wrote Nibelungenlied. Just kiddinggggg
There are more "classical" german authors that i... at least... somewhat enjoyed reading. Hesse, perhaps. But yeah i Think these are enuff
4. favourite dish specific for your country?
Not to be that bitch that eats meat aber...... i like...... most things. Not Sauerkraut. But i enjoy most traditional german dishes. Not Eisbein or Schinken or meats of that kind. But sausages i do like. Und Klopse usw
2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?
Ngl... i am a stranger in my own country. The only place in Germany ive been to is Hamburg, other than where i live lmaooo. So definitely travel abroad
18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?
Ive never talked about this so how would you know 🤨🤨🤨🖐🖐🖐 but it is a strange coincidence that you, too, would ask me this 😌😌 and once more, the answer is. No dialects to find here. I barely have an idiolect 😩😩🤫🤫
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what would happen if gojo (if he was alive during that time) fell in love with sukuna’s little sister?
Golden Hour [Heian Period! Gojo Satoru x Sukuna’s Sister! Reader]
I made it angsty because I couldn’t help myself 😭 please. Thank you for the ask! Also I searched up Heian period clothing and thought they were neat, lots of layers. I might be wrong in describing but just think of them as robes. I’ve never written something like this? Unedited. I don’t like the second part so maybe this’ll flop lol but god do I need more Heian! Gojo x Sukuna’s sister! Reader
warning: nsfw: fingering, slight nudity and suggestive touching that’s it 😌
“Toru.” You whined as the white-haired man who nestled between your legs continued to press kisses along your collarbone.
“Toru, it’s getting late.” He fingers your robes, letting them slip off your shoulder dangerously more than usual. Your measly attempts to stop him only encouraged him more so that you gave out a pleasurable sigh when his calloused hand finally dug through your layers and met the skin of your waist.
His hands never stopped their caressing, one traveling lower to brush against your thighs occasionally, but never enough. It was a foreign feeling, the ache blooming at your center with his every touch. Then again, everything is foreign with Toru, everything is a first with Toru, the only man who’d come close to you.
He halts his kisses to look at your face, his white eyelashes fluttering over his bright blue eyes. There’s a feeling in your chest that reminds you of the poetry you’ve read. A wonderful feeling it makes you think you’re ready to give Toru everything at that moment.
“I can’t help it.” He says, raspy breath hitting your lips; you let your fingers brush the bangs off his eyes and took note of the way his lips have reddened, glistening with your shared fluids. “I want you, y/n.”
It would be wrong to say you didn’t want him too. He pushes your robes completely off your shoulders, baring your chest to him, letting the wind caress your skin. You feel hot, all the layers suddenly suffocating. The way he looks at you was burning in your mind— like a blessing from the gods— when he sat down on his heels to admire your figure.
You have the urge to cover yourself but before you could, he pushes your hands back to their place beside your head, spreads your legs further apart with his knees, and presses himself deliciously against your core to feel the growing hardness beneath his clothes.
“Let me make you feel good.”
You know you can’t do this now. Not in the golden wheat fields that stretched kilometers outside your brother’s temple. Not on the roots of the gingko tree, the only thing blocking your view of the temple’s dark roof in the horizon, telling you to return. Not during sunset, the hour where everything the sun touches seems to glow, including your lover’s eyes; the hour where Sukuna Ryomen is bound to be waiting for you on his throne after a grueling day.
“My brother will arrive soon.” You meekly try to excuse yourself.
Toru smirks when he hears your words, maybe also because his fingers have finally found their way to your slit, making lazy circles to spead your wetness. You keen, sounds that will only ever be heard by him— you feel like you shouldn’t be doing this but you’re too far in his grasp to think about stopping him again.
He bends over to press his mouth against yours, swallowing your moan when he finally inserts his fingers for the first time and hits that one spot untouched by anyone even you.
Before you both give in to your indulgences, he mumbles against your lips. “Let him wait.”
Seven months ago, Gojo Satoru manipulated infinity to arrive at the outskirts of your brother’s temple with the main objective of causing mischief.
He wasn’t suppose to be there, wasn’t suppose to be anywhere near the town or this area of Japan for that matter, due to an agreement among the higher ups that banned him from setting foot in the “King’s” territory.
The agreement was based on the perception that Gojo Satoru and Sukuna Ryomen must never meet.
For those who wish to keep at least an essence of peace during the Golden Age of curses, it was understood that a fight between the strongest sorcerers would cause destruction, whoever is revealed victorious would gain the power to cause major instability. Thus, it was decided that each shall have their own part of Japan to roam.
Sukuna never cared about such agreements (he never agreed to anything, the whole affair was like a cold war for everyone); however, he was also far too occupied with his own area to engage with the faraway villages under someone else’s rule. But oh, don’t be mistaken, causing such wreckage is on his bucketlist. The same can be said for Gojo, who only believes it saves his hands from getting dirty.
Both believed they had nothing to prove, that they could crush the other; therefore, neither were willing to show fault and initiate a fight to begin with.
But you see, Gojo was also used to getting what he wants— which was why he was at the outskirts of your brother’s temple seven months ago, watching you walk through the wheat fields alone.
An untouchable girl.
The rumors drifted in the halls of the Gojo complex. He wants to laugh. Untouchable? He had the limitless and the six eyes, how were you untouchable?
He needed a distraction from all the clan politics and curse killing, what better way than gaining the satisfaction of touching some “untouchable” woman?
He learns why you’re considered untouchable— sister to the King of Curses, the one they labelled as his only rival to the figurative sorcerer throne. He learns that the villagers fear you just as much due to the punishments your brother may carry for even looking at you.
He ponders over it, truly, to approach you would aggravate the elders as it breaks the agreement. To approach you and have you would sully the King of Curses, who burns and slices every man that takes a step towards your direction.
What better satisfaction than to corrupt the beloved sister of a king without him knowing?
Seven months ago, Gojo Satoru approached you at golden hour to introduce himself as Toru.
You hate him.
You were naive.
Uraume’s words still echoed in your head. Gojo Satoru, you learned, the white-haired shaman with blue eyes the villagers taunted would kill your brother. All too similar to your own Toru.
All your life, the king of curses protected you from the stain of the world. Oh how that backfired when you met him. Because now your heart was pure, and he took advantage of it like taking sweets. His nickname was like bile on your tongue now that you realized they were all lies, seven months of affectionate words piling up high.
You thought it was a coincidence; you begged him for an explanation one late afternoon under the same gingko tree you always met. When you realized his silence only confirmed the truth, all you could do was choke out: “why?”
The answer had hit you like a curse.
Because Gojo took a sick pleasure in taking you— making you a wanton mess beneath him on the golden fields outside your brother’s temple, his enemy. Gojo liked the idea of owning something that wasn’t his. He liked making the elders frightened with his every move.
Once his confession was over, there was no point in staying. He had caused the damage he came for so he activated infinity and left. That was your last meeting, and the last secret you would ever keep from your brother.
You can never tell anyone about your rendezvous with the six-eyes. You can never tell your brother because it’ll cause a fight which would bring harm to the villagers that despise you, and instability to the jujutsu world— all just because some white-haired shaman with a god complex had used your body and dragged your heart through the mud.
Moreover, a fight would mean death. You hated Satoru, but you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him either.
However well you hid it, nothing could escape the eye of Sukuna. His precious little sister who always looked up to his strength, refusing to eat or make her usual kanzakis, choosing instead to stare out into the golden fields she loved so much. Sukuna didn’t understand why you wouldn’t tell him what’s going on but he was never one for confrontation. He’ll burn a village, perhaps, to ease his own turmoil and hopefully it’ll kill the bastard that had caused you pain. He’ll burn it all if he had to.
Gojo Satoru was used to getting what he wants.
The only time he wasn’t able to, was not because the laws restricted him, but because of his own selfishness.
He finds himself looking outside his window, trying to catch the daylight before it sunk into the horizon.
The strongest shaman would have to live with the fact that he can never have you again, not the same way he used to even if you were to meet once more. His memories with you would be merely fleeting moments in his life, moments of pure joy before everything had plunged into the night.
For him, the moment of a sunset is ruined. Because golden hour can no longer exist without legs tangled together and palms reaching for the darkening sky, fingers weaving through wheat and kimono fabric dancing in the wind. It could not exist unless his blue eyes saw the reflection of the sunset in yours and his tongue releases promises of lifetimes together again.
He wishes he had told you the truth. He wishes he could hold you, praise you, worship you like you had always deserved. He wishes he could be your Toru again and embrace you under the same gingko tree you met, the same one where he left you.
Because now, for him, golden hour could not exist— not when you’re gone from his life.
masterlist || Sukuna’s sister! Reader AU: start | one | two
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