Sukuna Assimilating To You

More on my Zhongli x Worshipper Reader concept but. . .

Zhongli committing something somewhat sacrilegious and Reader just goes "Oh how would Rex Lapis ever forgive us now" in distress and Zhongli is like 😪 "rex lapis doesn't care, dear"

bonus points if that continues the argument as you go on to talk about how rex lapis is the most kind and wise god, ofc he cares

lowkeyartist!sukuna who makes videos in his room to post on his instagram. Most of it is just him making new tunes that would most definitely be sampled by an artist sooner or later, while some are covers.

But I think what people mostly know him for is the different lady - or ladies - they see in the background sleeping in his bed. His name on twitter grows hectic whenever they see the girls in the back in some of his videos, slamming and dragging his name. Regardless, he stays radio silent on it.

It’s not until a song that had used one of his vids for a sample went popular and he begrudgingly goes live on instagram for his first Q&A due to popular demand. The questions flood in when his fans realise it’s not bullshit and he actually is there to talk with them.

And, like true Sukuna signature, there’s a mystery lady in his sheets behind him. The live notices immediately when he shifts a little to the edge giving them a glimpse of you, almost like he wants them to see.

“Does it wobble? Don’t make me end this live,” he says sternly, trying to subtly read questions that aren’t about you behind him in the chat. He finds it funny how the whole internet has been in an uproar this past year due to your constant impulse on making your hair look different every other month - different girls, like he’d ever, the thought makes him scoff.

“Why do you bring over so many girls? what do you mean? It’s just one,” he teases, his head turning over his shoulder to peek at you - yep, still sleeping.

His taunts to the questions have everyone on edge, and you’re just peacefully in dreamland. His scowl deepens when he sees many people question his honesty on the last answer, so he finally breaks and he reveals the long awaited truth.

“It’s just one girl because it’s my fiancé, we’ve been together since I started this shit,” he leans back in his chair, relief flowing through his veins now that everyone knows, “why does she look different all the time? My girl’s just impulsive.”

oh lord

Morax

𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

once upon a time, you wished for alhaitham to love you back just as much as you loved him. that was years ago though; now as the acting grand scribe for the acting grand sage, you both were widely known for the hate you have for each other.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 love hate, unrequited love (or is it), angst, implied insecurity about physical appearance, inspired from the fountain scene in atonement by ian mcewan. i suggest you watch the video first so you can imagine how the scene would look like!

𝐰𝐜 2.5k

he finally found you.

the swaying grass crunched under the soles of his boots as he slowly and menacingly walked towards you with your back facing him, not aware of what was about to come. he was getting nearer now, and yet you still didn't turn around; it was either because you didn't hear him at all or because you didn't care about his presence. knowing you, the latter sounded more reasonable.

you were sitting on the grass, right beside the crystal clear waterfalls of chinvat ravine, legs crossed and hair tied to keep the strands from blocking your view, but the wind didn't spare you from its wrath. your locks swayed gently along with the breeze, flying and curling like the roots of the divine tree holding up the sanctuary of surasthana, exposing your bare neck to him. even with your long sleeved dress, you bathed in the golden sumeru sunlight, not caring about the heat at all.

though you weren't looking at him at all, alhaitham's heart stubbornly skipped a beat, its pace picking up the longer he stared at you. you looked so peaceful sitting in silence that he almost turned away and let you be in your own quiet world. or maybe he would just sit beside you if you'd allow him to, then the two of you would listen to the singing of the dusk birds together, along with the calming sound of the running water from the waterfalls.

in another time, he would like to spend his mornings, afternoons, and nights with you; but right now, as the acting grand sage of the akademiya, work was priority.

and so, despite not wanting it, alhaitham broke the silence. "if I may ask, what is the acting grand scribe doing here?"

he saw your body tense up, shoulders raising slightly. it took you a whole minute before you decided to glance at him over your shoulder. as he expected, your usually gentle eyes were already narrowed, ready to bite at him. your plump lips were pursed in annoyance, and it took every bit of his sanity to not lean in and swipe his thumb over it. your cheeks were already starting to turn into a shade of red that reminded him of zaytun peaches. it was probably because of anger, or irritation. or both.

beautiful, he thought.

"acting grand sage alhaitham." you greeted him calmly, as opposed to the emotions you had on display. "i can ask you the same question."

alhaitham crossed his arms and stared down blankly at you. "i have some files i need you to arrange, and they should be at my desk tomorrow morning."

without breaking off the eye contact, you blinked twice as if you were contemplating on what to say. then you shrugged, appearing not to care at all. "alright."

he couldn't help but to think that the old you wouldn't act this way. years ago, you would've nod slowly with a soft smile gracing your lips, a smile that was reserved just for him, and a pale pink hue would settle on top of your skin because you were too flustered to even speak a word to him.

but times have changed now. he should not be thinking about the past, for it will only hinder his progress in the present. but how could he not, when the only person he could blame for the reason for your change was himself?

alhaitham tried to hide his growing impatience, both for your stubbornness and your attitude towards him. he frowned and pressed on, "it seemed like you didn't understand. i am asking you to return to your office in the akademiya."

"you already wasted my time by searching for you. i spent a precious hour just walking around the city asking people if they somehow saw you when i could've spent that hour finishing the rest of my work. even katayoun didn't know where you are, so i had to find you myself." he continued, voice sounding more cross in each sentence.

you sighed, not affected by his rants. fully turning around, he saw a writing quill tucked in your ear and some papers stacked on your lap. you took one of the papers and showed it to him. "i'm checking some of the students' research proposals before i can submit them to you for approval."

"and you couldn't do that in your office?"

"unlike some of us, i can't concentrate on my work when i am locked up in an enclosed space." you quickly bit back, glaring at him. "working here is much better. i can breathe in some fresh air and watch the dusk birds if i'm feeling overwhelmed by the never-ending paperwork."

alhaitham thought of what you said and almost agreed with you. from where he was standing, he could see the bright blue sky, and not to mention, the entire view of the city.

but his pride didn't allow him to back down, just like always. he can tolerate you being mad at him and hating him with all your heart, but he can't stand it when you ignore him.

so he added fuel to the fire and lectured you, "while you're at it, do you have more complaints? don't hesitate to inform me if you lack materials or things that you will need. you have a high position in the akademiya now, so it is important for you to have your work done in a proper manner."

you rolled your eyes. "office rooms make me nauseous." you said straightforwardly.

that made him scrunch his eyebrows in both confusion and concern. "nauseous?"

"there's no windows." you grumbled under your breath. alhaitham inhaled sharply, finally understanding the situation. he made a mental note to speak with some of the matra later and make a request to transfer you to a new room. maybe even use some of his sage funds to buy new decorations just for you, so you wouldn't feel lonely and cramped inside your office.

while he was thinking, he noticed that you turned around once again, continuing to check the papers on your own. he watched you write, quick but your handwriting remained neat and pleasing to look at. this was one of the reasons why he chose you to become the scribe.

he wasn't satisfied with just watching you. alhaitham got closer and bent down with one knee. striking up a conversation again, he began, "let me see what you're working on."

you flinched at the sudden close proximity. he noticed it, and he tried to stop himself from smirking.

your grip on your quill tightened. with gritted teeth, you told him, "i'm not yet finished. please be patient."

alhaitham peered at you innocently, making you glower even more at his unaffected state. "i just want to check if you're doing it correctly." he simply said.

"i told you it's not yet finished. and what do you mean by correctly? i can manage just fine on my own!" you defended, now starting to raise your voice. while you were distracted, he took the opportunity to take the paper you were writing on.

you yelped and protested, "hey! stop!"

he lifted up his arm so you wouldn't be able to reach it, looking down on you with a strange glint in his beautiful turquoise eyes. seething in anger, you slightly sat up and pressed a hand on his chest in a rough manner to hoist yourself up without losing balance. you tried to ignore the feeling of his defined muscles against your palm as you tried to snatch the paper from him.

alhaitham froze. for a moment, he thought he forgot how to breathe because of how close you were to him. he could see the flecks of light in your eyes, the number of your thick eyelashes, and the many imperfections on the surface of your skin, yet they looked soft to the touch. and your lips, your heavenly lips, were only inches away from his own. the way they were slightly parted made him think of how they would feel.

he lost all focus that the paper he was holding slipped away from his fingers. your jaw dropped in horror, gaze following the paper in the air as it slowly flew towards the river. you got off alhaitham and tried to chase after it, but you were unfortunately too late. the paper had already met the surface of the water, liquid seeping on its thin composition.

you looked at him in disbelief. "what have you done?"

alhaitham sighed, waving a hand. "don't fret too much. just take the printed copy and submit it to me." he said.

"i didn't print one." you quietly replied.

he turned to you and stared at you like you've grown two heads. "what?"

in a louder voice, you explained impatiently, "that's the original paper. i haven't printed a copy yet."

hearing your words, alhaitham felt a huge headache. it was a grave mistake not to keep a copy of the akademiya's files.

"this is why I told you to always duplicate important files immediately after you receive them from the students in case they are stolen, destroyed, or lost." he spoke carefully, trying to avoid getting frustrated. "these are their research papers, and i'm sure that as a former akademiya student, you know how much value those papers hold."

your hands formed into fists. "do not talk to me like that!" you weakly shouted.

one of his eyebrows raised in question. "like what? like an acting grand sage pointing out their scribe's mistake?"

to his surprise, you started tearing up. bright red then blossomed on your cheeks, signalling the chaos that was about to reach its boiling point.

"like a pompous ass who forced me to become the scribe!" you yelled, and the shrillness of your voice hurt his ears, but he continued listening anyway. "if you're so clever and oh so better than me, then why didn't you just be the grand sage and scribe at the same time? you just have to drag me into your shit so you could embarrass me in front of the mahamata!"

"to embarrass you is far from my—"

you pointed a finger at him in a threatening way, your eyes shooting daggers as sharp enough to kill him. "speak another word and i'll kick you so hard in your groin that your children wouldn't be able to have the same genes as you."

flabbergasted, alhaitham didn't dare utter another word. but when you started to unbutton your dress, he let out a sarcastic huff.

"the water is not safe." he said, trying to prevent you from wading through the fungi infested river. you ignored him and continued to undress.

you were about to pull down the upper part of your dress when you glanced at him, mouth open as if you were going to say something. he held your gaze, waiting for your retort. however, nothing came, and you only scowled at him while you finally slipped out of your dress, the clothing falling down to your feet.

he knew it was improper to stare. he wanted to look away, to give you respect and privacy and also because it was the right thing to do, but he can't he can't he can't—

the lacy camisole you were wearing underneath the dress clung tight to your body. your bra straps were visible, and because the camisole's length can only reach the middle of your exposed thighs, he can almost see your underwear. you were half naked right in front of him, but you didn't seem to care. why didn't you care?

ah, alhaitham thought, realization dawning upon him as you carefully walked towards the river and tested the temperature of the water first before taking a dive. you became nothing but a colorful blur under the aquamarine waters.

it was quiet for a moment. everything was quiet, until a distant memory flashed in his mind.

"you don't pass my aesthetic preferences and ideals for a partner. i consider both character and appearance when it comes to choosing a significant other, should that day ever come." he explained quickly, trying to get out of this awkward situation. more students were gathering around them, and that was the thing he despised the most: attention.

it became even worse when your lower lip started to tremble. just how pathetic can you be? confessing your feelings in the middle of a public place, the feelings that grew within you just by working on a single project together. you brought this to yourself. this was all your fault to begin with.

"are you saying i'm ugly?" you whispered, shaky voice sounding upset.

his gaze on you remained impassive. "i wouldn't use that term. that's too harsh, don't you think? i'd say...you're just not physically attractive, that's all.

"i'm not planning to consider you as my partner in a romantic relationship, today and in the near future. so i advise you to stay away from me to save yourself from the humiliation. have a nice day."

a loud splash interrupted his thoughts.

when you emerged from the water, your hands were clutching the soggy piece of paper, grip gentle as to not rip it off. damp pieces of hair framed your face, and the camisole, now transparent, hugged your wet form. your jaw was clenched, due to the cold or your hostility towards him; he doesn't know.

oxygen was knocked out of his lungs. alhaitham swallowed a lump in his throat and clenched his fist, reminding himself to breathe. you walked past him, not meeting his eye, and picked up your dress from the ground. you dressed hastily, your wet strands drenching your clothing in the process.

after you buttoned up, you turned your head sideways, finally acknowledging his presence but not making eye contact.

"i never wanted to be the acting grand scribe." you said, voice calm once again. "still, i apologize. i, who does not have a single clue about being a scribe because i'm only a librarian, apologize for not knowing what this job entails. but for just one day, can you please stop reminding me that i'm not as intelligent as you?"

he stayed quiet.

"have a nice day, acting grand sage." were your last words before you left him there standing dumbly on the grass. he can only watch as you walked away from him, hair swaying across your shoulders with each step you take. when you disappeared from his sight, he looked back at the water, the roiling surface yet to recover from its tranquillity, almost like you left some of your fury in it. alhaitham placed a hand flat on its surface, thinking about how the water touched your body mere moments ago, its calming arms caressing every inch of your skin. he doesn't want to feel jealous, but that he felt.

it has happened, much to his dread. you, who is possibly the only woman who can ever love someone like him, no longer have feelings for him. it was to be expected, but how can he live on when the only constant thing in his life finally left him for good?

alhaitham can only dip his hand in the water. it was the only closest thing to you that he could touch.

devotion (zhongli brainrot)

note !! crack brainrot inspired by Barbara and Venti's dynamic// also a sort of twist on my previous work, age gap (zhongli)!

Imagine being in a mutual pining scenario with Zhongli where both your feelings are just so obvious. You've known each other for quite a while now, so it'll be okay if he confesses, right?

But to his surprise, you reject him. You're all shy and sympathetic as you try to turn him down.

"I'm sorry, mister Zhongli. I do genuinely like you but.. but..."

"But?"

"But my heart and body belongs to my god, Rex Lapis! I simply can't bring myself to be in a relationship, not when I'm still in mourning."

Externally, Zhongli looks like this 😃

Internally, he feels like this 🤡

Zhongli doesn't have a lot of regrets in his very long long life, but dam–

But let's say that somehow, he manages to woo you into saying yes anyway. Something about how "Rex Lapis would want you to live happily" or maybe you are ready for a relationship with him now despite your strong devotion to the geo archon.

In fact, dating him could go really well too! He indulges you in stories that you can't even find on any textbook (wow, your boyfriend sure knows a lot!) and he values Liyue's history just as much as you do.

But there are times when it's just... 😃

Zhongli walking into your home for the very first time to see little statues, posters, and shrines of Rex Lapis

Sleeping with Zhongli but instead of cuddling him, you're cuddling an 8 feet long dragon plushie of him

(he kind of wants to throw the plush away, it takes up his space on the bed 😑)

Zhongli having to deal with comments about him—

"It must be cool to have a geo vision, controlling the element of our lord, Rex Lapis 😙"

"I bought Rex Lapis relics! We can put it in our bedroom."

"These fruits aren't for you. I'll be offering it in the shrine later."

The poetic irony in you clarifying with him that you're a devotee before you're his lover. (Rex Lapis > Zhongli)

"Zhongli, I love you but my heart will always first and foremost belong to Rex Lapis..."

Whenever you do something bad, you also tend to turn to Rex Lapis for forgiveness

"Oh how will I ever be forgiven now?" 😭

"Darling, I'm sure Rex Lapis doesn't mind..."

"You don't know that!"

You gush with Xiao over your shared devotion to Rex Lapis. Xiao indulges you but he's highkey pitying Zhongli because imagine being second best to yourself

GUSHING OVER THE GEO ARCHON STATUE

"It looks so cool!!"

"Love, don't you think I look kind of like that?"

"Hm... no offense, Zhongli, but..."

"🫤" *that's literally me* moment

Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You're taken as bait, but will Geto even bother? Companion piece to Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader (er, twice?); violence against reader; some non-graphic blood and violence 

There is a thin line separating your world at all times. It might be white or gold or every color under the sun, but it doesn’t matter, because you are the only one who can see it. The only one who knows what categories fall on either side of this decisive line. 

On one side, there is something like comfort to be found. Something like acceptance. It is the world where you sit quietly when Geto tells you to be with him; the world where your heart flutters when he asks you to comb through his hair, or undress him for the day, or bring him his meal. A world where you are his good pet, and that is enough.

But on the other side, there is only one singular certainty:

He will get bored of you.

He will no longer find your compliance endearing. He will kill you, or discard you on the streets, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You’ve never been able to decide how much of his behavior towards you is actually endearment, and how much is a vague interest in the novelty of your compliance. Maybe it’s pointless to decide, because that thought always comes in cold and creeping: you’ll be gone, in a flash, like a wayward candle left on in the night. Dead or alive but without him, and isn’t that just about the same thing?

That thought slithers its way around you even in some of your best moments. When he pats the cushion behind him--a cushion, instead of the bare floor--and instructs you to comb out his hair for the evening. When the water is warm and your bodies are wet and close, and afterwards, you smell almost the same. At least for the night.

He’ll get bored of you, that reality hisses, and that will be that. Not even the twins could save you, if they were so inclined. You’re not sure if they would be, if it came down to Geto wanting to be rid of you. Sometimes, they are warm--sitting with you, reading with you, tending to you. Asking for your opinion like you are, perhaps, a person after all. At other times, they keep to themselves; watch you with something that might be wariness.

Nanako and Mimiko are the reason you are here, under his thumb, at his feet. They saw you and wanted you--like a mother, you think, when you’re feeling sentimental--and they got what they wanted. Geto told you this, once, your knees banging against the floor from where he dropped you like a bad dog. 

And you don’t think he’s lying. Even here, now, in the sitting room with the girls, they seem to still like you overall. 

Still.

If Geto wanted you to go away, you would.

And it’s this sole thought that pushes past the primal surge of adrenaline that comes when a rough bag is suddenly, crudely shoved down over your head.

He’s getting rid of me.

Over your heartbeat, though, you hear sounds that don’t match up with those bitter thoughts that whispered at your back for ages.

It’s not Geto in the room; not Geto who put a bag over your head.

The girls are shouting something--a yelp of surprise?--and there are too many strange voices, too many conflicting sounds. Someone’s fumbling with your arms, and you can feel the scratch of rope, but something about that awful yelp from one of the girls gives you the strength to shove them aside, to rip the bag off your head.

Strangers. There are strangers in the room. Strange men wearing black face masks, with their arms on the girls, rough and cruel. They’re carrying rope, too--to tie them up? To take them? To hurt them?

No. No.

You don’t have a plan. You don’t have the time or ability to think of one. Your body simply launches itself at the men, who aren’t expecting it, who trip and stumble when  you throw your entire body weight against them to get them away from the girls.

“Run!” Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

And the girls--oh, it makes your heart feel fuzzy--hesitate to leave you. But then they grip each other’s hands and run away. The sight makes your heart soar, for a moment. 

They’re safe. They’ll get to Geto, and be safe.

And you--

You grunt against a stinking cloth shoved over your mouth and nose, and inhale a sharp, pungent scent that makes you gag. You blink against the coming grayness as you fall to your knees. Unconsciousness doesn’t come swiftly, and there’s an uncomfortable dizziness as your hands are tied behind your back, and someone hoists you roughly over their shoulder.

You can just make out what one of them says before you pass out--

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just--just grab her instead. He must like her, to let her around those kids.”

--

The sensation when the world gradually returns to you is a familiar one: you’ve been tied up. But instead of soft silks tightly pinning you to the bed, or winding around your body only to be hidden by your layers of clothing, it’s rough rope that keeps you bound to a cold metal chair.

The room that you’re in, when your eyesight returns with a blurry fog, is not Geto’s comfortable apartments but a bare room with concrete walls. The only decorations are--the realization comes with a dull acceptance--bloodstains against the wall, on the floor.

Ah.

This is where you die.

A sound--muffled, still, but a jarring screen all the same--makes you jerk your head. It’s another metal chair. But the person sitting in this one isn’t tied up--it’s a man, wearing a gray suit and puffing a cigarette that glows in the dimly lit space.

“Wakey, wakey.” 

He blows a puff of gray cigarette smoke into your face, and you cough, throat acidic and burning. 

It takes you some time to realize that it’s certainly one of the men who took you, who wanted to take--and maybe there is some justice in the world, because it seems they got away--the girls. There’s a bandage on his face and a vague memory comes back to you; your own hand reaching across his face, clawing at him with your carefully trimmed nails. 

There are other men behind him, quiet, watching the two of you with their hands folded. There are probably countless of these men, waiting for orders, in the rest of the building. 

“You hear me yet? Or are you still all fucked up?” His eyes narrow; his voice is gruff, no-nonsense. There’s some grit behind it. You wonder how much of his gruffness is because their plans were thwarted, and how much is because you managed to get a good dig into his flesh. Maybe both. 

Your lips part, and you feel a film of stickiness keeping your mouth together peeling as you lick the inside to give yourself some sort of moisture. Your voice comes out hoarse and dry, despite your efforts.

“I… can hear you.” 

Your hands flex from their bound position behind your back, pressed harshly against the chair. There’s no way to get out of this, not on your own. And you are on your own, because Geto would not bother getting you from here. 

You can imagine what happened as clearly as anything, despite the lingering effects of whatever drug they used on you.

The girls would run immediately to Geto, and tell him what happened. He would look them over to make sure they weren’t hurt. He would ask who attacked them, how many, what they looked like, and if they could remember any other identifiers. Then he would probably think back to who might have done this… someone with a grudge? Some enemy he’s made? 

It would only be then that he would realize the girls said you had been taken, and he would sigh. Perhaps he'd be annoyed that he lost his pet, but that would be the end of that. It would be too much of a hassle to get you, too much of a bother. He’d need a plan and perhaps men to back him up and heaven knows you weren’t worth…

Your head snaps to the side, pain blossoming on your cheek, as the gruff voice huffs out from above you.

He slapped you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You’re not trying to be distracted. Really. It would be better to stay focused, since you’re going to die here. Maybe you can think about your life from before all this, that would surely be a more pleasant ending than spending your last moments dwelling on Geto leaving you here.

“Sorry,” you say, out of reflex, more than anything.

The man sighs and runs a scarred hand over his hair. He takes another puff of his cigarette. 

“I said, you’re our bait for that greedy sorcerer. Once he shows up, we’ll do this on our terms, and our boss’ll get his curse removed in exchange for keeping your pretty little head intact.”

You don’t mean to do it, you swear you don’t. The reaction comes from deep inside you, from that part of you that’s been stepping over the line where you know that you’ll eventually be discarded by the man who took over your life.

Your lips quirk. And then, from your stomach, into your chest, it happens: you laugh. A harsh, almost braying sound that bounces off the bloodied concrete walls. 

The man’s face contorts, and perhaps he might hit you again, but there’s something freeing in this moment that makes you not care. What’s another slap to the face, when your blood will spray the flat end of those walls before the night is over? Whenever they realize that Geto won’t be coming for you, that you’re the worst bait they could have possibly chosen.

That you’re simply a pet that’s more trouble than you’re worth. 

The feeble jerk your body makes when he screeches his chair back and gets in your face, hot cigarette dangling from his lips, is reflexive. You’re not scared of him, or what he might do--you’ve faced far worse.

Spittle hits your sore cheek when he growls out--

“What the fuck is so funny?” 

You don’t tell him--

What’s so fucking funny is that they think Geto will actually come for you. That he’ll deign to respond to their blackmail, the heavy presumption of it all, just to rescue you.

A trinket. A pet. A toy.

You smile, and wait to die.

--

Surprises are not something Geto particularly enjoys, unless they end up working to his advantage. And there is a keen sense, as he picks up the sudden sounds of scuffles and running feet and shouts, that this is not going to be a surprise he welcomes.

Something in him turns dull and heavy when he sees the girls running down the hall, hair askew, missing the smiles they often sport around him--instead, their faces are etched in worry, fear, and a terrible sort of uncertainty that he hasn’t seen in them in years.

Everything connects together like an unwanted puzzle. The sounds of a scuffle. The girls with their gasping breaths, their flailing limbs, words that tumble out together like spilled marbles--

“They took her.”

Her.

You.

You, whom he expected to find sitting quietly, sweetly, with Nanako and Mimiko when he returned to you in an hour or two. Yet everything was wrong. Topsy-turvy. There would be no quiet evening where you looked up at him with ridiculous doe eyes, hoping to please him, eager to do whatever he told you.

There would be no warm satisfaction in his gut at the sight, no pleasant tingling in his skin as he bade you to do as he pleased. 

Instead, he would be spending his time retrieving you, and what if–the thought comes, and it’s disturbing how much the thought seems to weigh him down. What if you’re already dead? Disposed of, a corpse? 

No. He shakes his head. They wanted you as bait, clearly; or rather, wanted the girls. Pride puffs in him that you protected them, at least. A small lightness in a sea of grey. 

Still–you were gone, and uncertainty weighed heavy in the air as he weighed the best options for retrieving you. 

It was an unpleasant surprise, after all.

They--whoever they were, it did not matter. Perhaps the girls already told him, but their identity wasn’t important. Not only because Geto didn’t have the slightest care over who they were, but because they would be dead in a matter of hours, if not sooner.

No one disrespects him like this and lives. 

The thought of their filthy monkey hands dirtying you, a pet he had risen up from the lowest of the low into something more palatable and pleasant, made acrid bile climb into his throat.

Oh, you were beneath him, of course. There was no doubting that. But the stench of these stranger’s mediocrity and ape-like helplessness would coat you like dust, undoing so much of his hard work. 

Geto collects only the finest things and oh, it had taken time, but you now counted among them. 

He doesn’t need a plan. Why would he, to counteract a foolish kidnapping perpetuated by some half-baked mafia gang? They stood no chance against him. Even without his curses. He’s not sure he’d even release curses against these monkeys; it would be a waste of time and talent. 

All he does is nod to the girls, who have curled up on his sofa, holding each other tight.

“I’ll be back.”

At this, they smile, and he can see their breaths coming easier, their shoulders relaxing down. 

He doesn’t even need to tell them that he won’t be coming back alone. 

It is, as with so many things, a certainty. 

--

The lingering pain after they left you alone was not too awful. Yes, your lip was bleeding--the man wore metal rings--and your neck was sure to bruise, if you were left alive long enough for the skin to get all mottled. 

But you had expected the pain, and that made it easier to manage while you waited for them to return. They would probably kill you now. A gun to the head, you think. They wouldn’t want to waste time with messier and slower implements, unless they were that angry about their “bait” plan failing.

You had expected the pain, and now you expect the door to open, for those no-nonsense guards to come through and simply pull out a gun and that would be that. Would there be pain? For a moment, maybe, but hopefully not more. 

You don’t expect what actually happens.

Shouts--that quickly turn to screams. 

Clanging of metal, the sound of something being struck and sliced. 

Thumping, an awful, dull sound; like a carcass at the butchershop being let off its chain.

And then that door in front of you creaking open to reveal the last person in the world you ever expected to see in the doorway.

Geto.

Geto, with blood sprayed on his face, gore clotting on his clothes.

It’s so unexpected that you don’t believe it until he’s behind you, the familiar warmth of his body turned upside down with the new stench of metallic blood, mingled the scent of your own sweat, the lingering puffs of cigarette smoke.

It’s not until he’s made you stand up, that he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to look at him that the realization comes.

He came for you.

He killed for you.

It’s too much--it’s too much to realize the reality beyond that line was bullshit the entire time. It’s too much to realize that you were, perhaps, worth something after all. Too much to see Geto covered in blood and wonder, briefly, if he had been hurt in the process of your rescue.

It’s too much, all of it, and you black out.

From adrenaline, from injuries, or perhaps from sheer disbelief.

--

When you wake up, you are sitting on the floor of Geto’s spacious bathroom. Disorientation keeps you on the floor for too long, because then there are hands--Geto’s--on you, pulling you to unsteady feet.

Despite the swaying of your body, there is something grounding about all this. You, and Geto, in this familiar space. 

Geto stands in front of you, face impassive, still covered in specks of blood. The reek of his blood covered clothing is stronger in this space, an invasion of stinking metal.

“Strip,” he tells you. Your body obeys before your mind registers the command fully, hands trembling as you peel off clothing stuck to you by sweat and a bit of blood. Most of it wasn’t yours.

He tsks at your naked form, and shame creeps down your collarbone--stopping cold when he opens his mouth again. 

“Remove my clothing.” Another order, obeyed just as quickly, but perhaps with more brightness than you thought possible. If he still wants you to do this, it means he doesn’t find you too disgusting, does he? He can’t, if he’s allowing you to touch him like this. 

He doesn’t give the clothing a second glance--he’ll probably burn it, and yours too--as he steps toward the tub. 

The bath has already been prepared, though without the usual luxuries Geto asks you to slip in for him; lotions and salts, dried flowers and oils. 

Still, it is a comfort when Geto steps into the tub. It is all familiar to you, expected--welcomed, even. The way the water sloshes as Geto steps inside, the warm heat of the water rising to greet you as he beckons you closer. The firm, damp grip of his hand as he steadies you, lest you slip and annoy him.

"Wash this filthy monkey blood off me," he says, when you’ve settled in, his voice soft and clipped.

 Is he angry with you, you wonder, or the people he’s killed? Would he think on this later, and decide that it was far too troublesome to go after you in the end? Maybe the next time you were a target, he wouldn’t save you after all. He’d leave you to die and mutter that once was quite enough. He--

“Well?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, not a reflex this time but a genuine apology.  You were making him wait. That wouldn’t do.

So you take up the cloth and gently wipe at his face and body, where those flecks of blood have sprayed onto him like troublesome paint. You go slow, soft, just like he’s taught you to do. 

It’s the softness of the moment that pushes the words from your mouth. If he had not brought you here, if you two were not together in the warm, naked intimacy of the water, you might never have dared to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

You don’t even stop wiping at his skin, dipping the cloth into the water and watching it run red. Not until he grips your wrists with his wet fingers, making you drop the cloth. 

He pulls your hands closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to your damp skin. Soft. Gentle. A streak of blood near his mouth catches on your skin.

“I merely took back what is mine.” His eyes roam over you; you, the pet he owns, the pet he’s created.  How cold his words are. Strict, no-nonsense. What you’ve come to expect from him.

And yet, and yet--

He presses his lips to your knuckles again, and inhales the scent of you, all traces of cigarette smoke  on your hands washed away with the bathwater. 

seems to apply only to B and up, and man you wouldn't believe how long it took me to get all of this

-------------------------------------------------------

Nightbringer Surprise Guests

Lucifer

I'm feeling good. Why don't we open a bottle of my prized Demonus?

1. Tap Face

2. Rub Head

3. Rub Chest

I know you want to give me a high five, don't you? Fine, just this once. Call it a special occasion.

1. High Five

2. Rub Chest

3. Tap Arm

Mammon

We'll be invincible if we Team up!

1. Rub Face

2. Rub Face

3. Rub Face

Hey, hey, hey! The Great Mammon makes his mark!

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Rub Head

Leviathan

Haha, let's experience tha taste of victory together!

1. Tap Head

2. Rub Face

3. Rub Head

Let's great each other like Normies would!

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Tap Face

Satan

We won thanks to me.

1. Rub Face

2. Tap Chest

3. (Rub/Tap Chest, Tap/Rub Arm, Tap/Rub Head, Rub Face) Tap Face (couldn't get one with more hearts???)

Is this how one shares happiness? Give me a high five.

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Tap Chest

Asmodeus

A win for me is as natural as breathing air!

1. Rub Head

2. Rub Chest

3. Rub Arm

Come on, hold out your hand. High five <3

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Rub Face

Beelzebub

Thanks to you, I was able to get through it despite being hungry.

1. Tap Head

2. Tap Head

3. Rub Chest

Not bad, huh? It's time for a victory hamburger!

1. High Five

2. Rub Chest

3. Rub Arm

Belphegor

You want to hang out with me? All right, you got it.

1. Rub Head

2. Rub Face

3. Rub Head

All right... you want me to hold up my hand, right?

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Rub Head

Diavolo

It really does feel good to win, doesn't it!

1. Rub Head

2. Rub Head

3. Tap Head

All right, let's savor the joy of victory... Just you and me!

1. High Five

2. Rub Face

3. Tap Face

Barbatos

Was I of any help to you?

1. Tap Head

2. Tap Head

3. Rub Head

Is this where we do the so-called "high five"? Someone taught me how to do it.

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Tap Head

Solomon

You're my best student, you know? As your teacher, you make me proud

1. Tap Chest

2. Rub Chest

3. Rub Chest

Hey! It felt good to win like that, huh? We make a truly amazing teacher and apprentice team, am I right?

1. High Five

2. Tap Chest

3. Rub Head

Simeon

I'm super excited right now, but how about you?

1. Rub Head

2. Rub Face

3. Rub Arm

How about we see whether exchanging greetings will deepen our bond?

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Rub Face

Luke

...So how was it? Did I look cool?

1. Rub Head

2. Rub Face

3. Rub Arm

Okay here we go! It's time for a high five!

1. High Five

2. Rub Head

3. Rub Head

FLUSTERED.

you can’t believe how easy it is for him to fluster you (you’re just gonna blame it on the fact it’s your first meeting with him).

pairing: ayato/gender neutral reader

category/warnings: arranged marriage, first meeting, fluff ig, ayato is hot, ayato has long hair, ayato is taller than the reader, ayato kisses the reader on their hand and the reader is nervous throughout the whole fic ure welcome

note: anyways please wish me luck on my history test today i really dont want to retake it bro

nervous. that’s the word that best describes the state that you’re in right now. nervous and a little bit excited.

you’ve heard stories about kamisato ayato — a lot of them, to be precise. who didn’t? the head of the kamisato clan, the yashiro commissioner, the leader of the shuumatsuban; yes, you’ve heard stories of him but never met him in person. and that is precisely why you’re nervous — because you’re supposed to soon marry someone you didn’t meet before. and now that you’re waiting for him, you start wondering how have you never meet him yet considering you’re so close with ayaka?

“don’t worry,” she tries to make you less nervous. admittedly, she fails but you don’t have the heart to tell her that. “oh, you see? there he is!” she whispers in your ear and gestures in front of you.

and there he is indeed. walking in your direction, with his head held up high and a confident walk.

you get more and more nervous with every step he takes and so when he finally stands in front of you, you forget how you’re supposed to act.

“hello, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he says and his voice is smooth and rich; it reminds you of honey. he has a curious glint in his eye. “hello, sister,” he adds while smiling at ayaka, to which she nods at him.

you three stand in silence for a good minute, with your friend’s brother’s eyes never leaving your figure. the girl is the one to break the silence first.

“i’m going to leave you to it,” she says and quickly bids the two of you goodbye.

it’s going to go great!, she mouths while backing away.

now that you’re left alone, you look at the man in front of you more closely. he’s attractive. oh archons, he’s extremely attractive. and he’s tall, overwhelmingly so; his figure seems to loom over yours and you feel oh so small. his hair is tied up in a high ponytail with two strands adorning his face from both sides — he’s a handsome man. he’s a very handsome man and he’s looking at you so intensely you want to disappear.

“hello,” you answer. your voice is visibly nervous and you curse yourself for it.

“may i?” he asks while gesturing to take your hand. you allow him, lifting it in his direction yourself. he delicately takes it in his own and brings it up to his lips — and you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe and you feel your cheeks heat up. he kisses your knuckles while never breaking the eye contact and you’re so caught up in the act of what is happening that you forget how close and how intimate the position you are in is.

“i have a feeling we’re going to get along quite well,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, not letting your hand out of his hold. his eyes are piercing and you have to look away. you try to calm down your beating heart — damn it, why were you so easy to fluster?

kamisato ayato is gonna be the end of you.

he ain’t never beating the stalking allegations

art creds hunnismokah

Your new theme's so pretty !! nwfenefn I can't get any of my drafts done either :_) , how about enemies to lovers hcs (or whatever format you prefer) with Scara and Xiao?

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TYSM KOUUU <33 mwah ilysm, and ugh writers block is so ass !! as always ofcc <33 scara and xiao r my little meow meows /j i love my murderers !! RUSHED AS HELL

cw/summary // enemies to lovers (r.k) more of a pride and prejudice type beat for xiao tho, jealousy (r.k) dueling (r.k) romantic tension (r.k) not rlly enemies to lovers for xiao more like misunderstandings and misconceptions, rain scene (a.x) kissing (a.x, r.k) probly more but I'm lazy lol

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he DESPISED you, the tsaritsa's subordinate —who ranked lower than him — like u made his blood boil. everyone either is brainwashed to love him or is too scared to say anything other than a simple 'my lord'

ohohooo !! not u tho !! constantly running your mouth — archons he hated u through and through !!

his rivalry with you is the most entertaining thing ever kajdksms, witty comments thrown back and forth 24/7

"'my lord' you can't even go a day without beheading one that does not agree with you, what kind of lord does that make you ?!" "shut your mouth you peasant !"

sneering at each other every time one would pass by. you angered him !! so why was it when that day you laughed along with that hell of a man — tartaglia — his heart burned and blood seethed.

or the day you smirked at him and his heart skipped a beat. drawing him close to piss him off but instead alighting a fire in his heart.

god did seeing you make it burn even brighter.

he hated it. he hated how weak you made him feel.

scara being scara challenged you to a duel — if this feeling didnt stop he would have made it himself.

the mischievous glint in your eyes as you pin him down with a smirk

"gotcha ! what happened to the ever so powerful lord scarA—" he pulls you in by your collar, you smile into the kiss and pull away.

the two of you catching your breath.

"shut up" he whispers between pants, "oh? then make me my lord"

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okay okay, so for xiao i don't necessarily see like ENEMIES to lovers but a more you think he's being mean but rlly its how he shows his love !

giving very pride and prejudice (05 adaptation >>>) but anyways !!

he scolds you in such a cold manner about how you should be careless, saying stuff like ;

"you're just a weak human, what could you do ?" he says it with such a stone cold face that you don't even realize he's trying to convey his liking towards you.

you think he doesnt like u it's just he's so touch starved and awkward he doesn't know how to deal with these emotions !

at first he did think you were a distraction — a source of disappointment and anger ofc, cause that's the only reason why he always felt so bleh around you

nope ! he just likes you lolz, bby is so stiff too.

just imagine most mr. darcy and elizabeth scenes as u and xiao. yep.

AHEM "from the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

"You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness." AHEM, that scene in the rain for u and xiao ? SAY LESS

but anyways when he confesses to you you think it's all some kind of sick joke, you end up spewing out saying you'd never date him and he's sick for doing this to you. scaring the poor guy off :(

verr spots you at the balcony and quickly interrogates you on xiaos where abouts — she hasn't seen him and neither have you. a feeling of regret pools in your stomach and you pitfully go to search for him

"xiao ! xiao !" rain pours on you and your clothes stick to your skin as you call for him. tears gloss your eyes and you are one step closer to breaking down

"what do you want" he growls at you, mouth in a snarl.

"you're safe, thank archons" your eyes gleam and you grab into him, crying and sniffling.

"im sorry, im sorry, i hate myself for that i—"

he scoffs and grabs your face smashing your lips into his, "shut up, will you ?"

a light blush and tender look in his eyes as he speaks and it makes you smile fondly. he can't find himself to hate you anymore and neither can you.