𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓, s / her, adult, indo. perpetually sleepy engineering student, semi-active! kakashi hatake enjoyer, nanami kento enthusiast, ask me about my crush on cold dukes of the north...
[ WARNING! ] blog contains nsfw, minors dni with content marker as such!
✶ RECENT WORKS... turning tides ft. gojo satoru (historical!au)
MASTERLISTS!
𝜗ৎ - JUJUTSU KAISEN / last updated: 10.29.2025
𝜗ৎ - GENSHIN IMPACT / last updated: 10.29.2025
𝜗ৎ - love & deep space / [COMING SOON]
summary: you babysat little thirteen-year-old megumi once upon a time, but now, ten years later? you spot him at a club looking way too hot to be your awkward kid from the past. you try to play it cool but end up lowkey embarrassing yourself with some accidental flirting. plot twist: he’s actually a new intern at your job, and suddenly the vibe’s all kinds of heat. after a lot of teasing, tension, and some seriously awkward moments, one night the heat finally breaks—and megumi proves he’s way past kid status.
cw: age gap (4ish years), time skips, power dynamics, sexual tension, piv smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, 7.9k wc
the coffee table was covered in greasy pizza boxes — cheese for megumi, pepperoni for you and tsumiki, who was currently flopped upside down on the couch like a melting popsicle, humming to herself with her slice dangling over her face.
you were cross-legged on the carpet beside megumi, pink nails tapping your phone calculator while he aggressively stabbed his pencil at a multiplication worksheet like it had wronged him in another life.
"this is so stupid," he muttered, brows furrowed. “why can’t i just use a calculator like everyone else?”
you gasped, hand on your heart like he’d just offended your ancestors. “excuse me?! megumi fushiguro, did you just try to commit math blasphemy in front of me?”
he stared blankly. “...what?”
you giggled and leaned over to squint at his half-erased answers. “babe, what is this? did you write ninety-nine for nine times nine?”
his face immediately flushed. “shut up.”
you grinned and, without thinking, ruffled his hair.
he jerked away instantly. “don’t do that,” he said, cheeks flaming.
“oh my god,” you laughed, “you’re so dramatic. you didn’t care when i did it when you were nine.”
he didn’t answer, jaw tense, pencil gripped like he wanted to snap it in half. his bangs shadowed his eyes, and he’d gotten taller since the last time you saw him — lanky, a little awkward, but starting to grow into it. thirteen looked weird on him. it made him seem older than he was and younger than he wanted to be.
“ah, y/n! you have no idea how much we needed this, thank you so much for babysitting last minute,” mrs. fushiguro exclaimed, cheeks rosy—probably from a little too much wine.
mr. fushiguro just grunted in greeting, wandering over to play-wrestle with megumi and swipe one of his slices.
you popped up with a bubbly little wave. “hi! don’t even worry about it, the kids were angels.”
megumi looked personally insulted by that.
tsumiki chirped from the couch, “we made megumi do math and suffer. it was awesome.”
“doing math on a friday night is illegal,” megumi groaned, still hunched over the table.
“you’re just mad you thought nine times nine was ninety-nine,” you sing-songed while slipping on your shoes.
mrs. fushiguro laughed, digging through her purse. “so, y/n, do you have a boyfriend yet? you’re too cute to be single.”
you laughed, flustered. “not yet, i’m focusing on school right now—finals season is killing me.”
mr. fushiguro emerged with a mouth full of pizza. “that’s good. boys your age don’t know their head from their ass.”
you laughed again, but then megumi grumbled something behind him—loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.
“what does she need a boyfriend for? she has me.”
no one said anything for a second. then mr. fushiguro broke the silence by yanking megumi into a headlock and cackling.
“so you’re into older women now, huh? gotta type already, little man?”
“dad, shut up—!”
“oh, megumi,” his mom added, shaking her head with a smile, “i think y/n needs another seventeen-year-old to call her boyfriend. not a middle schooler in minecraft pajamas.”
you giggled behind your hand, careful not to hurt megumi’s feelings. even tsumiki was giggling watching her older brother get oddly flustered.
“speaking of,” his mom continued, “y/n, can you just double check that tsumiki brushed her teeth? i need toji to look at something in the garage.”
toji blinked, pizza still in hand. “i thought we were doing that tomorrow—?”
tsumiki was already tucked in by the time you padded back into the living room. megumi was standing awkwardly by the hallway now, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, gaze fixed on the floor.
“hey,” you said gently. “you good?”
he nodded a little too quickly. “you’re not gonna come over anymore, right?”
you blinked. “what?”
“my mom said... tsumiki doesn’t need a babysitter anymore.”
you tilted your head, smile softening. “yeah, she’s getting big. you both are.”
he didn’t reply. just scowled at the floor like it had offended him. you reached out and tugged playfully at his sleeve.
“i’m gonna miss you, gumi,” you said, voice bright but fond. “who else is gonna argue with me about math and threaten to burn my worksheets?”
he mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.
you leaned in with a teasing grin, smacked a big pink kiss to his cheek, and said, “you better not forget about me, okay? ‘cause i’m definitely not gonna forget you.”
then you were grabbing your purse and heading for the door, heels clicking cheerfully as you called over your shoulder—
“and stop growing! next time i do see you, you might be 2 heads taller than me.”
megumi stood frozen in the hallway, cheeks burning, hand lifting to touch the faint imprint of your lipstick.
ten years later
the club was packed—sweaty bodies grinding to half-broken trap remixes off today’s top hits, the floor sticky with spilled cocktails and too much cologne. you were deep in the chaos, laughing with your friends between flirty little conversations that ended in free drinks. not trying to pull. just dancing. vibing. glowing.
you were tipsy and stunning—lip gloss poppin', hair perfectly messy, dress barely hanging on. living your life.
and across the dance floor—
“...megumi?”
he freezes like you slapped him. blinks once. twice. because you’re not supposed to be here. you live in a memory, in warm pizza boxes and butterfly clips and highlighter-pink hoodies. you are softness and warmth and the scent of strawberry body spray from the early 2010s. but now—
now you're grown. glowing. sultry. moving your hips to the beat in a way that has no business being legal. and your mouth is still glossy, and megumi is not okay.
you light up. slap some poor guy’s hand off your ass and practically trip your way toward him—your heels clicking like fate. he’s standing by one of the high-top tables, drink in hand, frozen like he’s seen a ghost with a bbl.
you fling your arms around his neck without hesitation, your tits fully pressed to his chest like it’s nothing, giggling in disbelief.
“oh my god—you're drinking?! my baby is drinking?! stop itttt.”
he stiffens. “you—you don’t have to call me—”
“megumi,” you interrupt, dramatically clutching his shoulders. “i babysat you when you still had spider-man sheets. i used to wipe your nose.”
“you absolutely did not—”
“i did! you were like—‘math is stupid’—and you had crusty eye boogers, and now you’re here drinking, looking all…” your eyes drag over him and you wiggle your fingers teasingly. “...grown.”
you pull back just enough to really look at him—and your giggle falters.
because oh. oh.
he’s tall. and broad. and sharp-jawed and annoyingly sexy in that quiet, effortless, completely illegal kind of way.
you blink. "you got hot."
megumi’s brain blue-screens.
"no—i mean—you’ve grown up! that’s what i meant. i used to babysit you!"
you don’t seem to realize how close you are. you’re swaying into him, arm still slung over his shoulders like you’ve done it a thousand times. fingers casually toying with the ends of his hair like it’s your right. like you’re not wearing a backless dress that megumi is painfully aware could slide off with one wrong move.
you, still blissfully unaware, play with the little chain around his neck now. “you work out too, huh? i knew you’d be tall. i remember thinking that when you were like thirteen—‘this kid’s gonna grow up and be hot.’” you laugh like you didn’t just casually ruin his entire night.
megumi stares at you, eyes wide, face absolutely flaming, hands clenched so tightly around his drink it’s a miracle the glass hasn’t shattered.
and then—
“y/n!” a voice calls from the crowd. “there you are!”
yuki slides in out of nowhere, arm snaking around your waist like a protective older sister on a mission. her eyes flick from megumi to your hand on his chain to the way you’re basically draped over him and then back to megumi, whose expression is screaming please kill me right now.
she leans in and stage-whispers, “why are you flirting with a college freshman?”
you blink like she just spoke elvish. “what?? i’m not! that’s—megumi!”
yuki’s brows lift. “...uh-huh.”
“i used to babysit him!” you laugh, slapping megumi lightly on the chest for emphasis. “isn’t that so funny?!”
megumi is dying.
yuki smiles. but it’s tight.
poor kid. he's standing there, stunned, blinking after you like you just set him on fire and walked away.
yuki sighs to herself.
he definitely had a crush on you.
still does.
yuki disappears into the crowd with a look that says good luck, kid, and you're already turning back to megumi with a dazed smile.
"sorryyyy," you giggle, fanning yourself a little. "she’s protective. but isn’t that cute? that she thought i was flirting with you?”
megumi makes a noise in the back of his throat. it might’ve been a laugh. it might’ve been his soul leaving his body. “yeah. cute.”
you don’t even hear him. you're sipping your drink and swaying to the beat again, head tilted, body language loose and open like you belong in the music. the lights shift pink, then blue, then strobe white—each flash catching the sparkle of your jewelry, your glitter gloss, the sweat on your collarbones.
megumi is trying not to look. he is failing.
“god,” you huff, “i feel so old lately. but you—” you gesture at him vaguely. “you’re making me feel ancient right now. you were a child the last time i saw you, and now you’ve got arms and stubble and shit? not fair.”
you set your drink down and stretch dramatically, your chest pushing out and tits practically falling out . you don’t notice the way megumi’s eyes drop—don’t notice the flicker of panic on his face as he forces himself to look away and adjust the front of his pants like he’s trying to pass it off as casual.
he clears his throat. “you don’t look old.”
you beam at him. “aw, thanks, baby.”
baby. oh god. he nearly chokes on his own spit.
the way you say it—so casually—makes something in his chest seize up.
"megumi," a voice calls—bright, amused. it’s another guy his age with pink hair, followed closely by an even bigger and muscular guy with a black man bun. "you good, man?"
pink hair’s eyes flick between you and megumi and light up. he elbows the bigger guy. "yo, he’s so not good. look at him. dude’s malfunctioning."
"i used to babysit him," you offer quickly, like that explains anything. like that makes this less weird.
the big guy snorts. pink hair looks delighted.
"cool," pink hair says. "you babysit all your kids like that?"
you shove at his arm playfully, cheeks hot. megumi is still dead silent, jaw tight, hands in his pockets like if he moves them he’ll do something very illegal.
before you can say anything else, yuki materializes behind you, tugging your wrist. "babe, drink. let’s go. enough flirting"
you squawk, "i was not flirting—he’s megumi! i used to babysit him! and he’s, like, twenty-three now!"
yuki glances at megumi—still stiff, still watching you like you’re made of sin—and hums. "right. poor kid."
you let her drag you away, sipping your drink, heart beating a little weirdly fast. but by the time yuki hands you another daiquiri you’ve long forgotten about your run-in with the kid you used to babysit ten years go.
monday rolls around and you’re in the breakroom, adjusting the office keurig like it’s your sworn duty. your mug says "boss babe, brat edition" in obnoxiously cute pink font, and you’ve just finished swirling your creamer in when yuki sidles up beside you, designer sunglasses still perched on top of her head and an overpriced latte in hand.
“god,” she sighs, “i can't wait for the interns to get here. i’m gonna make them do all my paperwork while i take an extra lunch.”
you laugh into your cup. “it’s barely 9am and you’re already planning your escape.”
“self-care,” she shrugs.
a few more of your coworkers filter in, sleep-deprived and carrying folders. you greet them cheerfully, air-kissing a few cheeks and wishing people a good morning like the workplace princess you are. the heels, the lip gloss, the iced coffee—you’re basically the human embodiment of a good linkedin headshot.
you swipe your tablet from your desk and strut your way to the main conference room, where your poor baby interns are waiting for their intro training—which is just twenty soul-sucking slides of hr compliance and outdated office etiquette. it’s tradition. you consider it a hazing ritual.
you push open the door with a practiced smile, ready to greet the sea of nervous college grads with something cute and perky—
and then you see him.
seated near the middle of the u-shaped table setup, black button-up slightly wrinkled, blue lanyard slung around his neck.
no. way.
your heart stutters, and you blink hard like your brain short-circuited. you double-check the clipboard in your hand like it might say surprise! that boy from the club is also your intern now!
but it doesn’t.
and he’s definitely here. megumi fushiguro. sitting tall and tense, jaw tight, eyes wide.
you don’t even realize you’ve said it out loud:
“…megumi?”
the room falls silent. every intern is now watching you two like this is a k-drama scene.
his mouth twitches. he looks like he might simply evaporate into the floor. “...hi.”
you blink again.
hi??
you’re pretty sure your brain melts a little on the spot. this is the same guy you saw at the club three nights ago—the same guy whose biceps you complimented while slurring something about spider-man bedsheets.
and now he’s here.
wearing slacks.
in your intern orientation.
“oh my god,” you murmur. “you didn’t tell me you were interning here.”
“you didn’t give me a chance,” he says, and you swear—he sounds almost smug.
your mouth drops open a little. you blink at him, stunned and pink in the cheeks, and then remember yourself—right, there are ten other baby employees staring at you, and you’re supposed to be the confident one here.
you clap your hands once, forcing your professional smile back on. “okay! welcome everyone, let’s get started, we’re gonna have so much fun!”
you turn to the screen, clicking your little presentation remote like your life depends on it, and you feel megumi’s eyes burning into your back.
and all you can think is:
this can’t be happening.
tuesday
you’re humming to yourself in the elevator, scrolling through your phone, when the doors slide open and bam—in walks megumi.
alone.
you grin.
“well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little intern.”
he visibly stiffens. “you’ve gotta stop saying that.”
“what? that you’re my favorite?”
“that you used to babysit me.”
you laugh and lean your shoulder against the elevator wall, eyes dragging over him shamelessly.
“sorry,” you say sweetly. “i’ll stop... once i’m no longer picturing those spider-man sheets.”
he groans under his breath.
and you? you don’t notice the way his gaze flickers down to your legs, or the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek when you tilt your head just so.
that night, you’re washing your face and trying to unwind when the memory hits you like a truck: the club.
you groan into your towel.
because yeah, tuesday morning you were all smug and flirty in the elevator, but now you’re remembering just how unhinged you were the first time you ran into him again—like three months ago, at yuki’s birthday thing. loud club, slutty dress, way too many tequila shots. you’d been dancing on him. had your hands on his shoulders. called him “grown now” with a wink. maybe even touched his jaw.
and he just stood there all cool and quiet with that unreadable look on his face while you were acting like a full-blown cougar in heat.
“jesus christ,” you mutter to your ceiling. “i babysat him.”
no wonder he looked at you weird this morning. he probably thinks you’re some thirsty, washed-up ex-babysitter with a weird age gap kink.
you bury your face in your pillow and scream internally for a good thirty seconds.
and maybe that’s why, when wednesday rolls around, you start dialing it back.
you were just trying to get coffee. you swear that’s all you were doing.
but then megumi walked in, sleeves rolled up, forearms all veiny and pretty, with his messy black hair pushed back like he didn’t even try—and your brain short-circuited.
the boy you used to babysit is now a fully grown, hot, adult man. and your body is reacting accordingly.
he mumbles a tired “morning” as he reaches past you to grab a mug, and your breath catches because—what the hell. when did his voice get that deep?
you back up a little too fast and end up knocking over the sugar packet holder. classic.
“you good?” he asks, one brow raised.
“yup,” you squeak, scooping up the mess without looking at him. “totally good. just—coffee. haven’t had coffee. haha.”
he watches you for a second, lips twitching like he’s holding in a laugh.
normally, you’d swat at his arm. tease him. call him a brat.
but instead, you keep your eyes fixed on your mug and tell yourself to get it together.
because this is megumi. you used to babysit him. he probably sees you as some weird big sister figure and here you are practically blushing because he said "good morning."
besides—he’s 23. fresh out of college. probably into girls who go to music festivals and do their skincare routines on tiktok. not a tired 28-year-old corporate zombie whose back hurts when she sits down too fast.
even if he is disgustingly good-looking now. even if he smells like sandalwood and makes your stomach do somersaults.
“okay,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. “we’re dialing it back.”
and you do. you don’t touch his arm. you don’t mention his spider-man sheets. you don’t call him baby megumi.
you grab your coffee and walk out like a respectable adult woman.
and megumi watches you go with the faintest frown on his face.
thursday
something’s off.
you’re quieter today. still sweet, still smiling, but... distant.
he’s not imagining it. you used to bump your shoulder when you walked past, used to throw him little teasing jabs, used to light up when he said something dry that made you laugh.
now?
now you’re polite. reserved. a little stiff.
and megumi has no idea what the fuck he did.
he finds himself watching you, trying to pinpoint when the switch flipped.
it’s not like he didn’t notice before—how pretty you are. how funny. how you make a stupid office feel like something warm.
but now, it’s like you’ve put up a glass wall. you’re still right there, but out of reach.
and he hates it.
he catches you in the break room again, smiling too tightly while pouring your coffee.
"you’re avoiding me," he says before he can stop himself.
you blink, startled. “what? no, i’m just busy.”
“you’re not busy right now.”
you glance at him, then look away quickly. “i figured you’d want some space. i’ve been kind of... annoying.”
annoying? he wants to shake you.
instead, he just clenches his jaw and mutters, “you weren’t.”
but you’re already slipping out the door with your coffee, head ducked.
and megumi’s left standing there, wondering if he imagined the whole connection. if he hallucinated your teasing smiles and flirty comments and the soft way you looked at him on tuesday.
he pulls out his phone, types out a text to tsumiki.
her: “wait you saw her again???”
him: “she works here.”
her: “megumi. omg. did you tell her you had a massive crush on her.”
him: “no.”
her: “does she still wear the glittery lip gloss???”
him: “yes.”
he sighs and closes the thread.
friday
someone in marketing shouts it out first: “drinks after work? to celebrate the new interns?”
everyone’s murmuring agreement. even your boss nods.
you nudge megumi’s arm with your elbow, slowly grinning. “coming out with us?”
he hesitates.
you tilt your head. “come on. you should go.”
“for what?”
“get to know some of us outside our desks and business casual wear”
“i already know you.”
“megumii.”
“…fine.”
later that day, yuki catches you lingering by the copy machine and immediately clocks the way your eyes flick toward megumi when he walks by.
“you good, girly?” she says under her breath.
you wave her off. “fine.”
“you’re not flirting with your baby intern anymore.”
“i was never flirting.”
she arches a brow. “babe.”
you sigh. “he’s just... not a kid anymore. i realized that.”
yuki hums. “and that’s a bad thing?”
“it’s just weird, okay?” you hiss. “he’s 23. i’m almost 28. i used to make him chicken nuggets.”
“okay but now you want him to rail you into next week.”
you gasp. “yuki—”
“tell me i’m wrong.”
you don’t.
happy hour rolls around, and the bar starts filling up with tired salarymen and even more exhausted hourly workers. your office has a long table pushed together in the back, half your coworkers already crowding around with drinks in hand while the rest hover near the pool table.
you chew the inside of your cheek, debating whether or not to get megumi a drink. he’s over by the bar, laughing at something one of the other interns said, posture easy and relaxed.
you weren’t exactly avoiding him. you were just… setting boundaries. for yourself. trying to be normal. professional. and now, being in the same dimly lit bar as him—tipsy and tired and way too aware of how stupid hot he is—feels like a terrible idea.
yuki slings an arm around your shoulder and groans dramatically. “can you please just fuck him already?”
you choke on your beer. violently.
“yuki!” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as you glance around to make sure no one heard your deranged little menace of a friend.
she just takes another swig from her pint and leans in closer, lowering her voice but still way too loud. “what? you’ve been eye-fucking him since before you even knew he was working here. and you're too naive to notice he’s been eye-fucking you back.”
“i have not been—wait, he’s been what?”
yuki deadpans. “are you serious right now? if you would stop spiraling for like two seconds, you’d see it.”
she grabs your chin, gently but with intent, and turns your head toward the bar—right where megumi’s sitting.
he’s looking at you.
his gaze flicks away the second your eyes meet, but not fast enough to pretend he wasn’t staring. his ears go pink. he says something to the intern beside him, but his whole body shifts like he's been caught.
your stomach swoops.
still, you shake your head. no. nope. nothing’s going to happen. first of all, you work together now. that’s inappropriate. second of all, you used to babysit him, which is… arguably more inappropriate. megumi probably thinks you’re a freak. he’s probably this close to reporting you to hr.
so, you do what any sane, responsible adult would do: avoid him for the rest of the night.
you play pool with the accounting team, gossip with the customer service reps, and keep your eyes anywhere but on megumi—no matter how many times yuki throws you the world’s most pointed looks across the table.
eventually, people start trickling out. one by one. then in pairs. then in carpools. you’re settling your tab and sipping on some watered-down coke when someone slides into the seat next to you.
you look up—and of course it’s him.
megumi. looking warm and flushed and slightly buzzed. his hair a little messy. his shirt rumpled at the sleeves.
“hey,” he says, voice soft and low.
you blink. “hi.”
he’s close enough that his thigh brushes yours every time he shifts.
you’re acutely aware of it.
the warmth of his body. the clean, faint scent of sandalwood and laundry detergent. the occasional flex of his forearm as he nurses his drink.
you’re not even drunk. that’s the worst part.
you’re just buzzing. nerves and want and something heavy curling low in your belly.
“can we talk?”
your stomach dips. you nod once, trying to look normal—cool, even—as if you haven’t spent the past week panicking over every interaction you’ve had with this man.
megumi glances around, then tips his chin toward the hallway leading to the back patio. “out there?”
you follow him outside, where the noise from the bar softens into a low hum behind the glass. the air is cooler out here, a soft breeze carrying the faint scent of street food and cigarette smoke. there’s no one else around.
megumi leans against the railing, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere out in the distance. you wait, heart beating in your throat.
“you’ve been avoiding me,” he says finally, quiet but direct.
you blink. “i haven’t—”
“yes, you have.”
you pause. then sigh, leaning your back against the railing beside him. “okay. maybe a little.”
he turns his head toward you, jaw tight. “did i do something wrong?”
the way he says it—so genuinely unsure—makes your chest ache a little.
“no,” you say quickly. “god, no. you didn’t. i just…” you trail off, chewing your lip. “i’ve been trying to be professional,”
“i guess i was just scared i was making you feel weird or something this week,” you continue in a murmur, “with all the teasing.”
megumi nods. “i admit, maybe telling half the office i used to wear super mario underwear was a little much at first, but… it’s you. so it’s okay.”
you glance over. “you sure?”
he looks at you for a long beat. then, quietly:
“i’m not thirteen anymore.”
and oh.
it’s like something in the air cracks. sharp and electric.
you laugh, light and disbelieving, because what the fuck kind of answer is that. “yeah, no shit, megumi. i noticed.”
his gaze drops—slowly. from your eyes, to your mouth, then down to your thighs, crossed tightly under the table.
“did you?” he says, voice low.
your breath catches.
for a moment, neither of you say anything. the bar chatter fades to a background blur. you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the thrum of something heavy and unspoken between you.
you don’t look away.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
megumi huffs a quiet laugh, one that doesn't reach his eyes. “you really don’t get it, do you?”
“…get what?”
he leans in, just slightly. enough to brush his knee against yours. enough to make your pulse stutter.
“i used to wait up on the couch just to see you when you came to babysit. stayed in my room late on purpose so you’d come knock and say goodnight. i used to think about you every fucking day for years.”
you freeze.
your heart is a runaway train in your chest. “‘gumi—”
he smiles, soft but a little self-deprecating. “i used to have dreams about you when i was, like, fifteen. woke up so hard it hurt. and now you’re here. looking like this. wearing pencil skirts and calling me your favorite.”
you stare at him.
he’s not even teasing. he’s dead serious.
and suddenly you can’t breathe.
you feel hot. your skin prickles with awareness. your thighs clench under the table and you don’t know what to do with your hands.
“is this…” you swallow, trying to keep your voice level, “is this you flirting with me?”
“no,” he says simply. “that was me telling you i want to fuck you.”
your jaw drops. you blink once, twice. you’re pretty sure the earth shifts on its axis.
he glances down, then back up. “if that’s not what you want, just say so.”
you don't say anything.
you can't.
because the truth is, your entire body is screaming yes. every nerve ending has been wound tight all week and now he's just offering himself up like this? looking like that?
you scramble to think, to act normal, to not do something that’ll land you in hr monday morning.
but then he says, softly—
“you’re not my babysitter anymore.”
and that’s the last fucking straw.
you grab your purse.
megumi blinks. “wait—”
“come with me,” you say, voice low and tight.
“…where?”
“away from the bar.”
you grab his arm, weaving through the crowd like you’re on autopilot. the second you step outside, you yank him around the corner into the alley behind the bar—hidden from view but still close enough to hear the bass thumping through the walls.
“y/n, i’m sorry— i didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, i just—”
you don’t let him finish.
your hands fist in the collar of his shirt and you drag him down into a kiss so heated it nearly knocks the wind out of you both.
megumi freezes for half a second—just one. then he’s moving like he’s been waiting for this all night, hands snapping to your waist and yanking you flush against him. you moan into his mouth, high and breathy, already addicted to the way he’s gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
your fingers roam down his chest, tracing every dip of muscle through his shirt until you reach the waistband of his pants.
he shudders. his breath catches.
you break the kiss and pant against his lips, eyes glittering.
“you’re a great kisser, ‘gumi.”
megumi huffs a laugh and presses his mouth to the underside of your jaw. “wish i could say i learned from the best.”
you blush. blush. at him.
looking away, you clear your throat. “do you… wanna come back to my place?”
megumi lifts his head. his eyes are dark. focused.
“i’ll drive.”
the ride to your apartment is tense and silent—at least, on the surface. but his hand stays glued to your thigh the entire time, his thumb stroking just shy of your inner leg. every red light feels like a test. every brush of his knuckle makes you want to drag his hand higher and make him feel how wet you are already.
by the time you unlock your door, you’re trembling. not from fear—but from anticipation. from knowing this is real.
inside, the door clicks shut behind you.
and suddenly, you hesitate.
you falter. your confidence wavers, like the reality of it all is just now hitting you.
“so, wanna drink something?” you murmur, leaning back against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping lightly on the cool surface, heart thudding with that familiar anticipation.
megumi edges closer, voice low and rough, “no, there’s something else i want way more.”
then, without warning, he’s got you caged in—arms wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush to him. but this kiss? it’s nothing like that frantic, desperate one at the bar. this time, he’s slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing the curve of your lips with his own.
your legs coil around his waist, heels slipping off as he lifts you onto the counter effortlessly.
he nips your bottom lip softly, making you whimper, hands trailing up your skirt, skin warm against your thighs. meanwhile, your fingers fumble clumsily over the buttons of his shirt, eager and trembling.
he hums against your mouth, kisses getting messy and urgent, swallowing your moans like they’re his oxygen.
finally, his hands find the place you crave most—spreading your thighs wider, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. he smirks against your lips when he feels your knees shake under his touch.
you gasp when his thumb grazes your underwear, just barely brushing over your soaked clit.
“fuck—you're soaked,” megumi groans, breath hot against your skin.
you giggle, breathless, “can you really blame me?”
his eyes flash darker. “no. but i want to hear you say it anyway.”
you part your lips, about to answer, but then his fingers slip beneath the band of your underwear and stroke your slit once—slow, deliberate, teasing—and your brain just short-circuits.
“oh—fuck,” you breathe, hips bucking into his hand. “megumi—”
“you’re soaked for me,” he murmurs, nosing at your jaw. “and i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
“then touch me properly,” you whimper, shameless now, thighs trembling.
megumi lets out a low groan that vibrates against your neck. “don’t tempt me.”
but he does.
he pushes your underwear aside and slides two fingers into you in one smooth motion, the stretch making you keen as your walls clench tight around him.
“fuck—‘gumi—”
he groans again at the nickname, curling his fingers until your eyes flutter. “you always say my name like that?”
you nod, delirious. “only when i’m about to come.”
he smirks. “good. gonna make you say it over and over.”
you cling to him, nails scraping his shoulders as he pumps his fingers steadily inside you, thumb finding your clit like he already knows your body better than you do. you’re panting now, hips rolling into his touch, desperate for more.
“look at you,” he murmurs, watching your face like he’s memorizing every twitch, every gasp. “so pretty like this. s’like you were made to fall apart in my hands.”
you whimper, thighs trembling against the counter as his fingers curl just right inside you.
“you always look this good when someone touches you, or is it just me?” his voice is low, rough, and just the tiniest bit smug.
you don’t answer—you can’t—not when his thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk, chasing the pressure. but he knows. he can feel your body answering him.
“you’ve been acting so shy all week,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “thought maybe you didn’t want me. but this?”
he fucks his fingers into you a little deeper. you gasp.
“this says otherwise.”
your fingers tighten in his shirt, dizzy from how fast he’s unraveling you. “megumi, i—”
“i’ve wanted this,” he breathes. “since that night at the club. since the second i saw you again.”
you moan when his tongue traces the shell of your ear.
“wanna hear you say it,” he growls softly. “tell me you want me too.”
you nod frantically, panting, “i do—i do, i just—fuck—was trying to be normal, and—”
“fuck normal,” he mutters, cutting you off with a kiss, all tongue and heat and claiming. “i don’t want normal. i want you.”
his fingers curl again, knuckles deep, hitting something devastating inside you. you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, your back arching off the kitchen counter.
“you’re so close, aren’t you?” he whispers, thumb rubbing relentless circles over your clit. “been teasing me all week like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. wearing those little skirts. biting your lip. looking at me like you wanted me to ruin you.”
“i wasn’t—!” you try to argue, but your voice breaks into a moan, heat pooling low in your belly like a rubber band about to snap.
he chuckles darkly, and fuck—you feel it more than you hear it. “no? then what’s this?” he presses deeper, watching your thighs tremble.
your breath stutters. “megumi—please—”
and that does it. that makes something snap in him. the sound of his name falling from your lips all soft and desperate.
“go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “let go. i’ve got you.”
you fall apart with a strangled cry, legs shaking, his name breaking again and again from your mouth. he watches the whole thing—soaking in every twitch, every breathy whimper, like it's the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
when your hips twitch from oversensitivity, his touch finally eases—but he doesn’t move away.
instead, he lifts his fingers slowly, admiring how soaked they are, before sucking them into his mouth with a low groan.
your jaw drops. “megumi—!”
he grins, and for the first time since you reunited, you see it—the boy you used to babysit peeking through the man he’s become. all teasing eyes and smugness and deep, aching affection.
“taste better than i ever imagined,” he says.
you blink. “what?”
his smile softens—just a little. “you heard me.”
you’re still dazed, but you manage to breathe out, “you’ve…imagined this?”
megumi leans in again, hand sliding gently to cup your face.
“i’ve dreamed about this night for years.”
your heart stutters in your chest. “you have?”
“every time i ran into someone who reminded me of you,” he murmurs. “every time i walked past some girl wearing strawberry-pink lip gloss.”
his thumb brushes your bottom lip, gaze flicking down.
“but none of them were you.”
you melt—just a little—before he grabs your hand and starts backing toward the hallway.
“come on,” he murmurs, eyes darkening again. “i’m not done with you yet.”
you let him pull you toward the bedroom, heart pounding, thighs still trembling, a little giggly with disbelief.
“megumi—what are you even—?”
he shoots you a look that shuts you right up. “i just made you cum on my fingers. now i wanna do it with my mouth.”
you whimper.
he grins. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”
he peels the rest of your clothing off you, shedding off his own as well, then lays you out gently on the bed like you’re something precious—until he gets between your thighs. then it's like he changes.
megumi kisses down your inner thighs slowly, reverently, hands strong and sure as they wrap around the backs of your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.
“spread for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “wanna see how pretty you are like this.”
you shiver. “megumi—”
“mm-mm.” he glances up through his lashes, mouth just hovering over your soaked panties. “say it again.”
“...megumi,” you whisper, already breathless.
“no,” he says, nosing at the fabric. “gumi. like you did at the bar.”
your breath hitches. “gumi…”
he groans low in his throat, almost like it hurts. “fuck. you have no idea what that does to me.”
and then he’s pulling your panties down in one fluid motion, tossing them somewhere behind him, eyes glued to your dripping pussy like it’s the first real thing he’s ever seen.
“you’ve been wet for me all week, haven’t you?” he murmurs. “bet you were soaked every time i brushed your arm. every time you ran from me.”
his breath fans against you, and you squirm.
“i—i wasn’t trying to tease you—”
he grins, all sharp teeth and dark eyes. “you did anyway.”
and then he dives in.
tongue flat, slow, devastating—lapping through your folds like he’s savoring every fucking second. you cry out, thighs already twitching around his head, but he just groans and presses in deeper, locking your hips down with his arms.
“fuck, gumi—!” your back arches.
he hums against you, and you feel it everywhere. the vibration, the smugness, the feral little edge in it.
“shit—shit—you’re so good at this—”
megumi pulls back just long enough to say, “you think i didn’t practice for this?”
you stare down at him, wide-eyed, lips parted.
“dreamt about this too,” he pants, mouth already glistening. “used to jerk off thinking about how you’d taste. how you’d sound when i had you like this.”
you whimper, hips canting up—and he grins.
“yeah. just like that.”
his tongue circles your clit, soft at first, then rougher, alternating between slow, torturous laps and quick flicks that have you gasping, sobbing, clawing at the sheets.
“you’re—fuck, gumi—you’re so good—nngh—so good at this, holy shit—”
you swear he moans into your pussy, the praise going straight to his cock. one hand leaves your thigh to slide two fingers back inside you, curling just right, stroking you in perfect rhythm with his mouth.
“want you to cum like this,” he murmurs against you. “all over my tongue.”
you shake your head, barely able to speak. “i—i can’t last—if you keep going like that—”
“then cum,” he growls, low and hungry. “fucking cum for me, baby.”
you fall apart with a sob, hips jerking, thighs clamping around his head—but megumi doesn’t stop. he rides you through it, drinking every drop, licking you like he’s memorizing the taste.
when you finally slump back onto the mattress, panting and twitching, he kisses your inner thigh, then your hip, then slowly crawls back up your body.
“still want that drink?” he teases, smirking as he presses his forehead to yours.
you stare at him, dazed. “i’m gonna die.”
he snorts. “not yet. i haven’t even fucked you yet.”
you're still trying to catch your breath, back pressed to the mattress, chest rising and falling with every shaky inhale. your thighs are slick, still trembling from how hard you came, and megumi’s mouth is shiny with you, lips parted as he pants softly against your inner thigh.
he crawls up over you, body caging you in, and you think you might actually melt into the bed with how warm his weight feels hovering there—how safe.
his face hovers above yours, and you expect another kiss, more filthy teasing—but instead, he pauses.
his thumb brushes gently over your cheek. “are you sure you want this?”
the words are soft. careful. not just asking for permission—he’s giving you the chance to change your mind.
and fuck, that nearly ruins you more than anything else tonight.
you nod, voice barely above a whisper. “yeah. i want you.”
he stares at you for a long second, like he’s etching you into memory. then you ask, just as softly, “do you?”
there’s not even a beat.
“i’ve wanted this since forever.”
it’s quiet. barely more than a breath.
and something in you shatters—your heart, your restraint, whatever filter you had left. your fingers grip his jaw and you pull him down into a kiss so deep you feel it in your toes.
“then show me,” you whisper against his lips. “please.”
he doesn’t hesitate.
one hand snakes between your bodies, and he lines himself up, the head of his cock thick and hot as it brushes against your entrance. he watches your face as he starts to push in—slow, deliberate, careful despite the way his jaw clenches from the effort of holding back.
you gasp, arching into him. “megumi—”
“you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “shit—you feel unreal.”
he buries himself to the hilt in one long stroke, and you swear your brain short-circuits. he’s thick, stretching you just shy of too much, and you swear you see stars.
he leans in, breath hot against your ear. “i’ve thought about this. every night for years.”
you whimper, arms tightening around his shoulders. “you—fuck—you’re really good at this.”
megumi lets out a dark laugh, cock twitching inside you. “i’ve been dreaming about this night since i was sixteen,” he breathes. “no way i wasn’t gonna be ready.”
and then he moves—pulls his hips back and thrusts in deep, setting a rhythm that’s slow but devastating. every drag of his cock is perfect, angled just right, like he already knows your body better than you do.
you choke out a moan. “oh my god—”
“i wanna ruin you,” he grits, snapping his hips a little harder. “wanna fuck you so good you forget every guy before me.”
you whimper, thighs wrapping around his waist. “you already did.”
that breaks something in him.
he growls low in his throat and starts pounding into you, the soft start giving way to pure, feral want. he shifts your legs higher, hits deeper, and suddenly you’re clawing at his back, gasping his name like a prayer.
“mine,” he growls. “you’re mine now.”
“yours,” you sob, head falling back. “i’m yours.”
he sets a punishing pace, the bed creaking under the force of his powerful thrusts. you can only hold on for dear life, nails digging into his flexing biceps as he pounds into you mercilessly. pleasure builds in your core with each drive of his hips.
his hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, rubbing harsh circles that send sparks through your spine. your whole body tightens.
“‘gumi—fuck—i’m gonna—”
“i know,” he grits, never letting up. “give it to me, baby. wanna feel you fall apart around me.”
you shudder.
"i want you to cum inside me," you plead, spreading your thighs wider in clear invitation. "i want to feel you fill me up, ‘gumi. please."
his jaw clenches as he battles with himself for a moment before finally giving in with a strangled curse. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's coming undone.
"fuck, yes," he groans, hips stuttering as he floods your depths with his hot seed. you clench around him, milking every last drop as your own orgasm crashes through you.
you both slump into a sweaty pile, tangled limbs and ragged breaths filling the quiet room. megumi’s fingers trace lazy circles on your back, warm and steady, as he presses a soft kiss to your temple—his lips feather-light against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
“you okay?” megumi murmurs against your skin.
you stay quiet, too out of it, your skin still tingling where his hands roamed, thighs sticky and trembling, breath coming shallow and uneven.
“shit, i knew it. i went too far—fuck,” he rushes, sitting up, searching your face for any sign he messed up.
slowly, you turn to him, sore but smiling, eyes shiny with unshed tears, lips swollen and gloss-smudged. you meet his panicked gaze.
“i’m good,” you whisper, voice raw but sure. “really, i’m more than good.”
he exhales shaky, collapsing back against you, nuzzling your neck, lips brushing over his mark. “fuck, you scared me,” he murmurs.
you pull him down beneath the sheets, arms wrapping his neck. he follows, head on your chest, breath warm and heart still racing.
“you know,” megumi says softly after a moment, “when i said i’ve wanted this forever, i meant all of it—the nice, quiet parts, too. just holding you like this.”
you laugh, slipping a leg over his waist, skin sticky and warm, pulling him impossibly close. the humid night air clings to you both, mixing with the faint scent of sweat and his cologne. “well, you’ve got me now. heads up—i’m kind of addicted to cuddles.”
megumi smiles, that soft, goofy grin that makes your heart flutter, the warmth of his chest rising and falling under your hand. “that sounds perfect.”
before sleep sweeps over you both, you add with a teasing smirk, “not bad for a rookie.”
he freezes, blinking up at you. you grin.
“rookie?”
you shrug, biting your lip like you’re holding back a laugh. “cute, a little clumsy, but with a whole lot of fire. lots of potential.”
his jaw drops a little—you catch the twitch in his eye.
“you’re messing with me.”
you sit up a little, brushing your fingers through his tangled hair, cool against his warm skin. “baby,” you tease, voice soft and playful, “remember, i’m older and wiser.”
he blinks again, still dazed.
you lean close, breath ghosting over his ear, warm and sweet.
“and just wait. tomorrow, i’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing out on.”
megumi’s eyes go wide, stunned and utterly captivated—as if you just handed him the keys to heaven.
you giggle, pressing a kiss to his forehead, snuggling deeper into his heat and the soft rustle of the sheets around you.
okay i'll harp on this one more time and then i'm done because these people dont actually care they're just on some self-righteous crusade that makes them feel better at night but — you're running a hatred campaign against actual people over things that dont exist. they're fake. they're not real.
you sound like a hypocrite acting like people on here writing dark content are some scourge you need to defend the internet against, because lads mha blue lock naruto one piece etc are all just ideas someone out there made up. this isn't hurting any real person. you're not saving any real person from anything. instead you're harassing real people you don't know at all, devoting your time to hatred, and that's such a waste when you could be doing literally anything else. you're not out helping real victims you're just sitting behind a screen telling yourself you're a good person.
for a fact i know that several writers in this general space are grown adults with grown adult responsibilities, that have jobs they work hard at, that have families they support, that are paying bills, that are in school, that are working through things no one should have to — and they're doing this shit in their free time. when they feel like it. as you do with a HOBBY. saying shit like "how are you 30+ still writing in fandom space" is such a stupid thing to say as if they arent leading whole other lives outside of the internet and doing this IN THEIR FREE TIME. FOR THE HELL OF IT. maybe that's hard for you to believe because you're devoting all of your time to being hateful but it's really not that serious it's a HOBBY.
the concept that you're pushing is, "i dont like this thing so it shouldn't be allowed" and i don't need to explain to you how stupid and dangerous that is, especially right now. i dont care if you think dark content is gross and it makes you uncomfortable. dont look at it. there are people out there that hate fluff, but they arent nuking people off the internet because they wanna read smut only. i'm going to believe that you as a human being realize that things in your life arent going to just disappear because they make you uncomfortable. like you have to know that at this point right ??? it's actually so simple you just have to take responsibility on yourself to avoid those things. you're so weird. even if you succeeded in kicking every dark content writer off tumblr there would still be a million published authors writing the same stuff out there. do a quick google search on most controversial books and tell me what those themes are. matter of fact look up published books with those themes that disgust you so bad and i promise you'll easily find ten titles in no time.
you're not actually doing anything. you just think it's gross and can't move on from it like a mature human being. leading smear campaigns because you dont like someone on the internet makes you look so silly like get over yourself.
✶ NOTES! 1.27k words, yes i did this instead of my stats homework, god forbid a girl be a little self-indulgent!
"you are the most self-centerd, most egotistical son-of-a-bitch i have ever, ever, had the displeasure of working with!" gojo satoru isn't sure if he wants to fight or fuck you, but watching you seethe at him right now's got him thinking twice about the latter.
your nostrils are flared, and your eyes blaze with a heat that could very well melt the polar ice caps as you continue your spiel in the firm of his office suite. there are structure drawings scattered across his desk with scribbles of your infamous maroon ink all over, most likely critiques, perhaps a part of the reason why you're heated at the moment.
as lead architect on one of the most luxurious construction projects in all of shibuya, satoru was more than willing to call the shots on design. the only issue was that where he brought his aspirations to life with blueprints, it was your responsibility as the head civil engineer to put his hopes and dreams on the chopping block of structural feasibility.
in other words, he hated you.
well… sometimes.
despite being at the company for longer, satoru couldn't stand the presence you had in meetings where he'd have to tolerate you in a shared space. you were charming and quick-witted, always making helpful suggestions or offering solutions when obstacles arose.
except, of course, if you recognized his signature and employee id at the corner of a blueprint drawing you were tasked with verifying.
you two were always a whirlwind of backhanded remarks or thinly veiled insults, leaving one or both seething and annoyed by the end of a meeting. anyone present didn't have the heart to speak up, the tension in the room only something they had to let settle or laugh nervously through.
and who could blame them? even behind his desk, lounging back in his cushioned office chair, satoru would understand how anyone else would have already melted into the floor or dissipated into dust. you had one hand against the desk as you leaned over to get in his face, the other with a manicured nail pointing at one part of the drawing where critique had been profusely scribbled.
your lips were a similar shade of red, a little glossy and but nonetheless enticing as they twisted to spew out more curses and awful remarks about his design.
you were beautiful whilst enraged, but satoru wasn't sure how much more insulting he could take before you had him fucking busting in his slacks.
"--and this?! did you even consider the capacity on a material like that?" you ask it as if you genuinely care what his answer is but the look in your eyes only tells him you've already characterized him as insufferable, and he can only smile amusedly.
the two of you are alone in the firm, everyone else having gone home from work, leaving it empty and quiet aside from the sounds of the city below satoru’s office.
"of course i did," satoru replies, not breaking eye contact with you, even moving to sit up in his chair a little and lean in so he was only a couple of breaths away from your face. "maybe you need to rerun some calculations, but my estimates are spot on."
at the mention of math, something else ignites behind your eyes. if there was one thing you could give satoru credit for, it's being able to know exactly where to poke. "hah! my calculations?" you have an incredulous look on your face, hand moving to stab a manicured nail into his chest. your voice is lower, mouth so much closer when you say, "how about you put your money where your mouth is if you're going to spew bullshit about my work."
satoru has to remember to breathe. you're seething in his face but still drop dead gorgeous as you look like you're about to murder him. "you know... i'm starting to wonder if you get off to these altercations we have, you seem to like to cuss me out a lot."
you can only think of him as ridiculous (but maybe a little right), a scoff leaving your lips as you dig your finger into his button up a little harder. "and yet, i'm not the pathetic little bitch with a hard-on, now am i?"
and so this is how the white-haired architect found himself on one of his office couches, suit jacket long discarded and his armani button up ripped open, buttons scattered across the velvet rug. he was a professional, he swears, but he can't help it if the woman he's spent despising desperately yearning for is on her knees in front of him, one hand rubbing up his thigh and the other wrapping manicured nails around his throbbing length.
there is an embarrassing amount of pre leaking from his pink, flushed tip, the lighting in the room having dimmed to just the accent ceiling lights on their lowest setting. satoru watches your hand rub up the length of him, his breath catching in his throat as you swipe your thumb over the head of his dick. "stop being a fucking tease..." he's much too aroused to be embarrassed at how breathless he sounds.
god, you've got him begging for it like a fucking virgin. satoru curses under his breath when you finally bring your lips to his cock, tongue darting out to lick the tip before starting at the base and drawing a long stripe up to the top.
"then stop complaining," you bite back, parting your lips to take him in. when the tip hits the back of your throat, tears are forming at the corners of your eyes and you do your best not to gag. just the sight has satoru throwing his head back, a wanton moan leaving his lips that's music to your ears.
your pace is a little slow at first, trying to adjust to his length, eventually picking up the pace, your hand on his shaft rubbing what you can't take in your mouth. satoru isn't even remotely religious but your mouth's got him thinking he's on his way to heaven. you're a mix of gasps and hums, all of which he feels on what of him you have in your mouth. your tongue is even worse, swirling around the tip every time you pull back and before you go down again.
and he's just about to bust when you pull away with a pop of your lips, a gasp having clawed up his throat at the blatant orgasm denial. it has his hips bucking a little, making you chuckle at his desperation, an almost evil glint in your eyes as you rise from your knees. satoru is sure he looks absolutely pathetic beneath you as you settle on his sensitive cock.
he whines, his hands settling on your waist and pulling your clothed cunt down against him, desperate for any kind of friction against him. pushing your skirt up your hips, satoru's about to rip your pantyhose in half until you're slapping his hands away. "ah-ah," you tut, holding his wrists just out of reach. "boys who mouth off don't get to cum.""
"please, please..." satoru is ready to go beyond begging; chest heaving, face flushed, and dick throbbing to the point of agony.
you lean to where your lips are nearly against his ear, breath tickling his neck just enough to have him nearly writing. "if you don't fuck me like you mean it, it'll be a cold day in hell before i approve your blueprints, got it?"
satoru can only hope he'll get paid overtime for this.
all of my GENSHIN IMPACT works [STILL UPDATING] -- please heed the warnings before reading! more specific warnings can be found in the post itself.
STANDALONES / oneshots!
ꉂ — MONSTADT, the city of freedom
[ ✶ ] DILUC RAGNVINDR ... noctua.
TANGLED IN LOVE | gn!reader, smut, for a man who hates attachment, diluc sure loves getting entangled with you...
THE MUNDANE LIFE | gn!reader, fluff, loving sure is easy.
IMPLIED DOMESTICITY | gn!reader, fluff, diluc's favorite remedy to any day is you.
[ ✶ ] KAEYA ALBERICH ... pavo ocellus.
MAN OF MANY HATS | gn!reader, angst + comfort, love is NOT a two-way street... but perhaps Monstadt's Calvary Captain was simply tnraveling the wrong road.
PINKY PROMISE | gn!reader, angst + comfort, never once has Kaeya Alberich ever wondered if loving you was a mistake.
ꉂ — LIYUE, the city of contracts
[ ✶ ] SHENHE ... crista doloris
SCARY DOG PRIVILEGES | gn!reader (but very wlw), fluff, it seems Shenhe can never take her eyes off of you for even a second!
[ ✶ ] BEIDOU ... victor mare
冒险 | gn!reader, fluff, smut (ish), oh how seasick this Captain is for you.
[ ✶ ] XIAO ... alatus nemeseos
SWIMMING LESSONS | gn!reader, fluff, smut (ish), a certain captain of the swim team can't help but drown in everything that you are.
WORDS PAINT A THOUSAND PICTURES | gn!reader, fluff, smut, pt 2 to 'swimming lessons', but can be read separately, XIao wonders if getting on his knees and begging would be too forward...
GUARD OR LOVER? | gn!reader, fluff, your bodyguard wonders if his responsibility to protect will be enough to quell his yearning for you.
[ ✶ ] ZHONGLI ... rex lapis
2:34 AM | gn!reader, fluff, it can't be helped when your sweet little girl has nightmares and knows only to wake her parents...
ꉂ — INAZUMA, the city of eternity
COMING SOON! (so sorry for the inconvenience...)
LONG FICS / multipart works!
✶ BEHIND CLOSED DOORS, kamisato ayato | fem!reader, angst, fluff, parallel genshin impact timeline, marital conflict, arranged marriage!au (not the cute kind), reader has a child...
for the Head of the Kamisato Clan, Ayato has never once found the choice between his heart and his duties to be difficult... up until the picturesque world he thought he had built comes unraveling right before his eyes. (you've stopped asking for his love and simply wish he'd sign the divorce papers.)
what better than to wield the sword that has vowed its loyalty to you? at least, that is what satoru gojo believes his feelings are for you when he makes a show of new fiancée at the victory banquet hosted by the lover who betrayed her. after all, what are comrades for?
✶ WARNINGS! jjk x fantasy!au, manhwa inspired jjk short fic! romance, cheating, angst? childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, scandal, lots of imagery, so please don't get bored, i love historical aus :( [inpired by THIS art!]
✶ (a/n) first fic out of hibernation, i hope this isn't too mediocre... (comment if you want to be added to the taglist, i want to make more parts!)
the rushed shuffle of feet against marble flooring. childish laughter between hushed sighs. the crack in the door is just large enough to allow you to see the fall of clothes but not quite small enough to conceal your gasp from the other side.
you turn and make a run down the corridor you came from, as much of your damned skirt in your hand as you can muster. war taught you how to run, but apparently not to sneak around the discovery of your fiancé in bed with the only woman you considered a friend.
you hear the faint call of your name from behind but don't stop to turn. it was your mistake thinking you could trust a man to stay true while you fought for your kingdom.
you do not stop the rush of tears down your cheeks, just as the servants you pass do not try to stop you in your wake. you were to be named a war hero at tonight's victory banquet, for god's sake!
"oi! where are you off to?" white hair and a flash of beautiful blue eyes. a gloved hand catches your forearm at a speed no one should be capable of, but gojo satoru is not just anyone.
the pain in your heart seems to be spilling into your lungs. his tone is no longer as playful as his original inquiry when he pulls you into his arms. "naoya... h-he... he..."
even his name chokes in your throat. a man who, even when you were just kids, had been trying to court you. sunny days spent laughing in the palace gardens or giggling in the corridors.
the white-haired male spares no time in whisking you away down a different passageway, straight to the west wing of the castle--the wing intended for foreign guests.
would you, too, have to vacate your room in the east wing? you thought this to yourself, but only faintly, your mind still replaying the scene of seeing those long, blonde locks anywhere. you grew up braiding that same hair you witnessed tangled between your fiancee's fingers as he kissed her liked he'd gone mad.
had he ever loved you?
satoru sits you on the bed, sinking to his knees before you. your makeup for the banquet has been smudged, nose running and cheeks flustered. you had settled for a lilac gown for the banquet, the color your fiancée used to compliment you the most in. it wasn't anything too grand, simple but beautiful with its minimalistic trim and few gems.
you hear satoru curse under his breath after checking the time, a silver pocketwatch glinting in his gloved hand. slipping the glove off of his other hand, he offers you his handkerchief, and you get a chance to take him in.
he's dressed in a suit with an accompanying cloak that spreads out on the floor behind him. you can see the faint enchantment on the fabric that makes the navy blue seem to twinkle slightly with the illusion of the night sky. his hair, which despite having whisked you away to his quarters hurriedly, appears to still be completely intact in its slick.
medals and cords adorning his suit, you're sure any maiden would be more than willing to fall at his feet. the most esteemed knight in the army and he is wasting his time rescuing his crybaby comrade who just got her heartbroken.
which, the more you thought about it, was rather pitiful. here you sit, the most powerful mage among the four kingdoms, crying your eyes out over a man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. with the woman whom you thought was to be your best friend.
you blow your nose rather obnoxiously in satoru's handkerchief. "i should have taken his head." you're sure you don't really mean that, but there is a knife in your back and you don't really care to know who's hand was on it last. you can deduce that there were at least two pairs, and you just saw those same hands all over each other.
your friend stares at you for a long moment before bursting out into laughter. you narrow your eyes, reeling your heel back to kick him where he kneels. he catches your foot with the ungloved hand, thumb rubbing a soothing circle before directing it to rest where it was before you launched your assault.
"my sincerest apologies," satoru says, head bowed a little, "it was just a rather shocking statement to hear come from your mouth, considering you used to beat me for my foul remarks."
his lips curve in that same boyish grin you remember when you first smacked him for muttering a curse during your years at the academy together. still as insufferable as ever.
"now that this raging storm has calmed a bit," satoru starts, hand waving to motion to, well, all of you, "would you care to tell me what has wounded my dearest comrade so deeply to the point of uncontrollable tears?"
you wince a little, the image of the small crack in the door flashing through your eyes. "i was just going to see my dear fiancée before the banquet and i ended up seeing more than i had bargained for."
satoru nods. "anyone we know?"
you give him a wounded look, as if the very mention of her name might bury the knife any more than it already was. "...akari."
something shifts behind those sapphire eyes of his but he says nothing. giving your hand a squeeze, he stands after a while, his height towering over you where you sit on the edge of his bed.
"i suppose there's only one thing left to do," he says finally, hand extended to you. you can see the tendrils of dark ink the curl out on the small bit of wrist that the sleeve of his suit jacket doesn't cover.
when you slip your hand into his, it is calloused and firm. "and what would that be, dear comrade?"
you can't help but find the mischievous grin that spreads across satoru's face just a little appealing.
"get you a new fiancée, obviously."
---
the war had been long but surely not so long that you had forgotten how to wear a dress properly. it felt as though the gown was wearing you.
dressed in a mermaid-silhouette dress, the skirt billowed around your feet and resembled the same appearance as satoru's cloak. while his uniform was navy with silver accents, your dress changed from navy to silver at the start of your bodice. the off-the-shoulder neckline allowed for a cloak of your own to drape down your back nearly identical to satoru's, only a little more sheer.
your hair, normally in a simple updo, lay in long locks down your back. silver is braided through your hair by your lady-in-waiting whom you called to come quickly to the west wing to assist you. the victory banquet was going to proceed with or without you, regardless of what favor you were in with the crown prince.
mina, the lady-in-waiting you called, is deft and skilled with her movements. though the western kingdom was far in travel, you had insisted on bringing her with you when the announcement of war was made official. mina had been with you since you were little and despite the difference in disposition, the two of you got along well.
"my lady," she says softly, moving to the jewelry box that had been provided by satoru to bring out the final pieces of the look. it is a strand of diamonds adorned with sapphires the same color of your dress. "are you sure about this?"
it was mina who had warned you first of the rumors that your engagement to the beloved crown prince might have been broken off. or that there was another candidate being considered for crown princess. the empress never did take a liking to you.
but it couldn't be helped. at least evidence surfaced before you would have to make your first public appearance since the war.
you offer a reassuring smile to mina and allow her to bring the jewelry to your neck.
the gems are cool against your collarbone, but surprisingly not as heavy as you thought. the mirror you stand before reflects a woman you do not recognize. her posture in the dress appears cofident rather than rigid from years at war or being on alert. your sharp features appear regal rather than intimidating. the mana marks that curl from your fingers up your forearms appear even decorative and complimentary to your appearance rather than the result of a life of magic wielding.
nearly fit to be a monarch.
"you clean up rather nicely, dear." satoru is leaned casually against the wall opposite of you. he had the dress brought to the room before stepping out to give you privacy to dress. his posture is casual but the decor of his uniform speaks otherwise. you never let his casual demeanor fool you; he was an absolute menace on the battlefield and you happened to be the only mage with enough courage to fight alongside him.
in his hands is a pair of gloves that resemble his, adorned with the same enchantment that resembles the skirt of your gown. you see him slip a small box in his pocket before pushing off the wall and approaching you.
"why thank you, sweetheart," you retort, fully turning yourself to face him. his eyes glint when they meet yours, something about your appearance appealing to him.
battlefield or ballroom, you both were a matching pair. looking at the two of you in the mirror, it made sense now all the envy in naoya's eyes when satoru was ever a little too casual in conversation.
he offers the gloves in his hand, an invitation.
when you slip your hands into them, they cover the length of your arm to where your mana markings end.
"they are not intended to conceal," satoru remarks, eyes already on the gloves before you make a snide comment. "the material is responsive to the user, much like the dress and my cloak."
you realize the enchantment that causes the illusion of a starry sky on the fabric is not simply decorative. turning your palm up in your hand, blue fire bursts from your hand, and you can feel the intense heat radiating from your hand. but the gloves too have changed.
blue, the shade of your fire ripples through the ombre of the fabric in waves from your palm. when you scuff the fire out with the close of your palm, the blue fades out slowly, but the humming of mana remains alive against your skin where the fabric of the glove covers.
"mana... armor?" you turn your hand in wonder, eyes meeting satoru's in disbelief. "how did you..."
satoru grins. "fascinating, right? the north wouldn't be known for its craftsmenship if we couldn't deliver even something as simple as this. though we can't exactly take all the credit. the technical work was designed by your brothers, jointly commissioned with my uncle."
you imagine your second brother in his workshop, performing dangerous mana experiments. manipulating currents, creating formulas. there is a picture of your eldest brother bickering with the younger, commanding certain adjustments be made. you shake your head sighing, "oh brothers, even in the west, you manage to still pester me about my safety..."
"and while they wish truly for your safety, i'm sure they would be even more in favor of you defending your honor as the only princess of ilyara." satoru says, offering his arm for you to take.
when you take his arm, the two of you make your way towards the door, arm in arm. mina opens the door to hallway and they two of you begin to make your way to the grand ballroom, walking past some confused and astounded members of the staff.
you could almost roll your eyes at the thought. the staff gossiped and you know the entire maids quarters knew of naoya's affair, yet only one dared to let you know. you ought to make sure mina is given more vacation time.
the double doors to the ballroom are open and appear to have a crowd among them. the presentation of the visiting nobles had just begin. from where you stand with satoru, you can make out the emperor and his empress sitting comfortably on the throne at the front of the room, the seat filled by the crown prince accompanied by another figure in a gown. her pink hair is what catches your eye and you feel an even deeper pang in your chest.
you may never understand the betrayal but that doesn't mean you deserved to endure it.
"deep breath," satoru whispers, his head ducked so his lips are the same height as your ear. "they're all dogs, the lot of 'em."
you hum in disapproval, "to speak so ill of the royal family, one might think you're insinuating the beginning of conflict, satoru."
you know the white-haired male is grinning, but he's fixed his posture. even with your height, he still towers over most men. there is only one noble pair ahead of you two now, being the last and most important figures at the banquet aside from the royal family.
"well i would never hope to hint at something as serious as war," satoru teased. "i just mildly enjoy pissing off a little prince."
you look up at him, a brow raised. "mildly?"
his smile is different when he meets your eyes, charming and a little boyish. "for you? i'd enrage the western archipelago."
and maybe the weight in your chest lifts a little when he says that, but you don't have time to process it before your name is announced with his.
"entering the heroes of the great war! second mage to the thalorien institute of magic and princess of the kingdom of ilyara accompanied by the commander of the northern beasts and duke of kyrvahl!"
everyone who isn't stunned is cheering. much of those, the knights and other noble factions supporting the two of you. the room is full of clapping and congratulations as the two of you make your way through the room to make our greetings to the royal family.
and when you get close enough, you see the strain in your dear ex-fiancee's face, your best friend standing behind him in disbelief. his scowl is unmistakable as you bow your head towards his parents.
"by the tides of ilyara, jewel of the sea, i greet the sun and moon of the lumerian empire."
all of my JUJUTSU KAISEN works -- please heed the warnings before reading! more specific warnings can be found in the post itself!
STANDALONES / oneshots!
[ ✶ ] GOJO SATORU 五条悟
WORST HUSBAND EVER! | fem!reader, fluff, mornings with your now-husband seem to be no different than any other day--aside from the change in surname, of course.
APOCALYPSE | fem!reader, smut, angst, what can you do when your assaasin ex-boyfriend is commissioned to kill you--the same man you've been paid billions to kill yourself?
FLESH-EATER | fem!reader, smut, god forbid a man want a little taste of his bride-to-be!
AFTER HOURS | fem!reader, smut, worst co-worker in the world award goes to the smart-mouth architect at your firm... that is until you've got him begging like a dog in his own office...
[ ✶ ] GETO SUGURU 夏油 傑
GROWING PAINS | fem!reader, flfluff, perhaps the hardest part of raising your daughters with your husband was letting them go.
[ ✶ ] NANAMI KENTO 七海建人
MIDNIGHT SNACK | fem!reader, flfluff, smut, just because he's a girl dad doesn't mean he doesn't know how to take take of BOTH his girls.
[ ✶ ] FUSHIGURO MEGUMI 伏黒恵
ILLICIT AFFAIRS | fem!reader, smut, at the most prestigious private university in all of japan, most kids are drowning in money or drugs. except for a certain fushiguro--who's suffocating between your thighs.
LONG FICS / multipart works!
✶ TURNING TIDES gojo satoru | fem!reader, fluff, smut, angst, jjk x historical romance!au, themes of cheating & violence, childhood best friends to lovers.
when the crown prince of the Lumerian Empire abandons one of the greatest mages from the Archipelago War, it would only seem fitting that Gojo Satoru steps up to take his place as your new fiancee. it's revenge for your dearest friend, at least, that's what Satoru tells himself.
what better than to wield the sword that has vowed its loyalty to you? at least, that is what satoru gojo believes his feelings are for you when he makes a show of new fiancée at the victory banquet hosted by the lover who betrayed her. after all, what are comrades for?
✶ WARNINGS! jjk x fantasy!au, manhwa inspired jjk short fic! romance, cheating, angst? childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, scandal, lots of imagery, so please don't get bored, i love historical aus :( [inpired by THIS art!]
✶ (a/n) first fic out of hibernation, i hope this isn't too mediocre... (comment if you want to be added to the taglist, i want to make more parts!)
the rushed shuffle of feet against marble flooring. childish laughter between hushed sighs. the crack in the door is just large enough to allow you to see the fall of clothes but not quite small enough to conceal your gasp from the other side.
you turn and make a run down the corridor you came from, as much of your damned skirt in your hand as you can muster. war taught you how to run, but apparently not to sneak around the discovery of your fiancé in bed with the only woman you considered a friend.
you hear the faint call of your name from behind but don't stop to turn. it was your mistake thinking you could trust a man to stay true while you fought for your kingdom.
you do not stop the rush of tears down your cheeks, just as the servants you pass do not try to stop you in your wake. you were to be named a war hero at tonight's victory banquet, for god's sake!
"oi! where are you off to?" white hair and a flash of beautiful blue eyes. a gloved hand catches your forearm at a speed no one should be capable of, but gojo satoru is not just anyone.
the pain in your heart seems to be spilling into your lungs. his tone is no longer as playful as his original inquiry when he pulls you into his arms. "naoya... h-he... he..."
even his name chokes in your throat. a man who, even when you were just kids, had been trying to court you. sunny days spent laughing in the palace gardens or giggling in the corridors.
the white-haired male spares no time in whisking you away down a different passageway, straight to the west wing of the castle--the wing intended for foreign guests.
would you, too, have to vacate your room in the east wing? you thought this to yourself, but only faintly, your mind still replaying the scene of seeing those long, blonde locks anywhere. you grew up braiding that same hair you witnessed tangled between your fiancee's fingers as he kissed her liked he'd gone mad.
had he ever loved you?
satoru sits you on the bed, sinking to his knees before you. your makeup for the banquet has been smudged, nose running and cheeks flustered. you had settled for a lilac gown for the banquet, the color your fiancée used to compliment you the most in. it wasn't anything too grand, simple but beautiful with its minimalistic trim and few gems.
you hear satoru curse under his breath after checking the time, a silver pocketwatch glinting in his gloved hand. slipping the glove off of his other hand, he offers you his handkerchief, and you get a chance to take him in.
he's dressed in a suit with an accompanying cloak that spreads out on the floor behind him. you can see the faint enchantment on the fabric that makes the navy blue seem to twinkle slightly with the illusion of the night sky. his hair, which despite having whisked you away to his quarters hurriedly, appears to still be completely intact in its slick.
medals and cords adorning his suit, you're sure any maiden would be more than willing to fall at his feet. the most esteemed knight in the army and he is wasting his time rescuing his crybaby comrade who just got her heartbroken.
which, the more you thought about it, was rather pitiful. here you sit, the most powerful mage among the four kingdoms, crying your eyes out over a man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. with the woman whom you thought was to be your best friend.
you blow your nose rather obnoxiously in satoru's handkerchief. "i should have taken his head." you're sure you don't really mean that, but there is a knife in your back and you don't really care to know who's hand was on it last. you can deduce that there were at least two pairs, and you just saw those same hands all over each other.
your friend stares at you for a long moment before bursting out into laughter. you narrow your eyes, reeling your heel back to kick him where he kneels. he catches your foot with the ungloved hand, thumb rubbing a soothing circle before directing it to rest where it was before you launched your assault.
"my sincerest apologies," satoru says, head bowed a little, "it was just a rather shocking statement to hear come from your mouth, considering you used to beat me for my foul remarks."
his lips curve in that same boyish grin you remember when you first smacked him for muttering a curse during your years at the academy together. still as insufferable as ever.
"now that this raging storm has calmed a bit," satoru starts, hand waving to motion to, well, all of you, "would you care to tell me what has wounded my dearest comrade so deeply to the point of uncontrollable tears?"
you wince a little, the image of the small crack in the door flashing through your eyes. "i was just going to see my dear fiancée before the banquet and i ended up seeing more than i had bargained for."
satoru nods. "anyone we know?"
you give him a wounded look, as if the very mention of her name might bury the knife any more than it already was. "...akari."
something shifts behind those sapphire eyes of his but he says nothing. giving your hand a squeeze, he stands after a while, his height towering over you where you sit on the edge of his bed.
"i suppose there's only one thing left to do," he says finally, hand extended to you. you can see the tendrils of dark ink the curl out on the small bit of wrist that the sleeve of his suit jacket doesn't cover.
when you slip your hand into his, it is calloused and firm. "and what would that be, dear comrade?"
you can't help but find the mischievous grin that spreads across satoru's face just a little appealing.
"get you a new fiancée, obviously."
---
the war had been long but surely not so long that you had forgotten how to wear a dress properly. it felt as though the gown was wearing you.
dressed in a mermaid-silhouette dress, the skirt billowed around your feet and resembled the same appearance as satoru's cloak. while his uniform was navy with silver accents, your dress changed from navy to silver at the start of your bodice. the off-the-shoulder neckline allowed for a cloak of your own to drape down your back nearly identical to satoru's, only a little more sheer.
your hair, normally in a simple updo, lay in long locks down your back. silver is braided through your hair by your lady-in-waiting whom you called to come quickly to the west wing to assist you. the victory banquet was going to proceed with or without you, regardless of what favor you were in with the crown prince.
mina, the lady-in-waiting you called, is deft and skilled with her movements. though the western kingdom was far in travel, you had insisted on bringing her with you when the announcement of war was made official. mina had been with you since you were little and despite the difference in disposition, the two of you got along well.
"my lady," she says softly, moving to the jewelry box that had been provided by satoru to bring out the final pieces of the look. it is a strand of diamonds adorned with sapphires the same color of your dress. "are you sure about this?"
it was mina who had warned you first of the rumors that your engagement to the beloved crown prince might have been broken off. or that there was another candidate being considered for crown princess. the empress never did take a liking to you.
but it couldn't be helped. at least evidence surfaced before you would have to make your first public appearance since the war.
you offer a reassuring smile to mina and allow her to bring the jewelry to your neck.
the gems are cool against your collarbone, but surprisingly not as heavy as you thought. the mirror you stand before reflects a woman you do not recognize. her posture in the dress appears cofident rather than rigid from years at war or being on alert. your sharp features appear regal rather than intimidating. the mana marks that curl from your fingers up your forearms appear even decorative and complimentary to your appearance rather than the result of a life of magic wielding.
nearly fit to be a monarch.
"you clean up rather nicely, dear." satoru is leaned casually against the wall opposite of you. he had the dress brought to the room before stepping out to give you privacy to dress. his posture is casual but the decor of his uniform speaks otherwise. you never let his casual demeanor fool you; he was an absolute menace on the battlefield and you happened to be the only mage with enough courage to fight alongside him.
in his hands is a pair of gloves that resemble his, adorned with the same enchantment that resembles the skirt of your gown. you see him slip a small box in his pocket before pushing off the wall and approaching you.
"why thank you, sweetheart," you retort, fully turning yourself to face him. his eyes glint when they meet yours, something about your appearance appealing to him.
battlefield or ballroom, you both were a matching pair. looking at the two of you in the mirror, it made sense now all the envy in naoya's eyes when satoru was ever a little too casual in conversation.
he offers the gloves in his hand, an invitation.
when you slip your hands into them, they cover the length of your arm to where your mana markings end.
"they are not intended to conceal," satoru remarks, eyes already on the gloves before you make a snide comment. "the material is responsive to the user, much like the dress and my cloak."
you realize the enchantment that causes the illusion of a starry sky on the fabric is not simply decorative. turning your palm up in your hand, blue fire bursts from your hand, and you can feel the intense heat radiating from your hand. but the gloves too have changed.
blue, the shade of your fire ripples through the ombre of the fabric in waves from your palm. when you scuff the fire out with the close of your palm, the blue fades out slowly, but the humming of mana remains alive against your skin where the fabric of the glove covers.
"mana... armor?" you turn your hand in wonder, eyes meeting satoru's in disbelief. "how did you..."
satoru grins. "fascinating, right? the north wouldn't be known for its craftsmenship if we couldn't deliver even something as simple as this. though we can't exactly take all the credit. the technical work was designed by your brothers, jointly commissioned with my uncle."
you imagine your second brother in his workshop, performing dangerous mana experiments. manipulating currents, creating formulas. there is a picture of your eldest brother bickering with the younger, commanding certain adjustments be made. you shake your head sighing, "oh brothers, even in the west, you manage to still pester me about my safety..."
"and while they wish truly for your safety, i'm sure they would be even more in favor of you defending your honor as the only princess of ilyara." satoru says, offering his arm for you to take.
when you take his arm, the two of you make your way towards the door, arm in arm. mina opens the door to hallway and they two of you begin to make your way to the grand ballroom, walking past some confused and astounded members of the staff.
you could almost roll your eyes at the thought. the staff gossiped and you know the entire maids quarters knew of naoya's affair, yet only one dared to let you know. you ought to make sure mina is given more vacation time.
the double doors to the ballroom are open and appear to have a crowd among them. the presentation of the visiting nobles had just begin. from where you stand with satoru, you can make out the emperor and his empress sitting comfortably on the throne at the front of the room, the seat filled by the crown prince accompanied by another figure in a gown. her pink hair is what catches your eye and you feel an even deeper pang in your chest.
you may never understand the betrayal but that doesn't mean you deserved to endure it.
"deep breath," satoru whispers, his head ducked so his lips are the same height as your ear. "they're all dogs, the lot of 'em."
you hum in disapproval, "to speak so ill of the royal family, one might think you're insinuating the beginning of conflict, satoru."
you know the white-haired male is grinning, but he's fixed his posture. even with your height, he still towers over most men. there is only one noble pair ahead of you two now, being the last and most important figures at the banquet aside from the royal family.
"well i would never hope to hint at something as serious as war," satoru teased. "i just mildly enjoy pissing off a little prince."
you look up at him, a brow raised. "mildly?"
his smile is different when he meets your eyes, charming and a little boyish. "for you? i'd enrage the western archipelago."
and maybe the weight in your chest lifts a little when he says that, but you don't have time to process it before your name is announced with his.
"entering the heroes of the great war! second mage to the thalorien institute of magic and princess of the kingdom of ilyara accompanied by the commander of the northern beasts and duke of kyrvahl!"
everyone who isn't stunned is cheering. much of those, the knights and other noble factions supporting the two of you. the room is full of clapping and congratulations as the two of you make your way through the room to make our greetings to the royal family.
and when you get close enough, you see the strain in your dear ex-fiancee's face, your best friend standing behind him in disbelief. his scowl is unmistakable as you bow your head towards his parents.
"by the tides of ilyara, jewel of the sea, i greet the sun and moon of the lumerian empire."
arranged marriage au but your suitor, whom you think you know nothing about, was actually the man who waged this political war against your father and forced his hand in allowing him to pick a bride among his daughters and come time at the wedding ceremony, you happen to recognize your groom to be the soldier you found washed up on shore the day you decided to venture to the beach near your father's coastal castle... or smth idk.
