#cult leader geto

[twistedbotanicals]

Initiation

Dark content warning!

18+, consent for all the wrong reasons, obsession, hentai-style tentacles, Curse!fucking, womb filling, belly inflation, bondage with tentacles, loss of consciousness, loss of virginity

"You wish to join my...organisation."

A question, framed as a statement. Geto Suguru rolled a small chirping Curse, moving around his long-fingers and pale palm like a bag of animated marbles, as if he was bored. His baggy pants hid how his cock swelled and twitched to life within.

This was his favourite part- the initiation- and you were the most eager little virgin to have flown into his web for quite some time. Though clearly a grown woman, you remained untouched...for now.

You knelt, your sweaty palms pressed flat to your thighs, and you thrummed with excitement. With your idol now so close that you could see every crease in his disarming smile, and every thread vein on the inside of his wrist, you felt sick with anxious delight.

You didn't even notice how you leaned forwards, so eager to please that Suguru's aching arousal jerked against his thigh. He maintained his jovial, softly spoken facade, offering you an indulgent smile as you spoke, your voice wavering.

"I-- I would love nothing more, Geto-sama-- it would be an honour, the highest honour--"

"Quite. We could use your Cursed technique, and your enthusiasm." Suguru stood, now, his socked feet soft upon the tatami mats, stepping, feathersoft and serene, down towards you. You could see the long, heavy swelling of his lap, and your mouth ran dry, your lips parting spontaneously. You clamped your thighs together, throbbing.

When he knelt, your chin in his grasp and his breath over your lips, you thought you may faint, and the barest moan left your stretched throat.

But, Suguru looked tortured, sighing in dramatic resignation. "What a shame that you've been amongst the monkeys your whole life...you still cling to them. I can smell them on you. How could I ever know I could trust you?"

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. Ice water ran down your body, the threat of rejection so close, and you reached up involuntarily, clasping the wrist of the hand that held your chin. Your eyes burned with obsessive fervour, hellfire stoked within.

"Anything, Geto-sama." You strained, your voice thick with sincerity. "I'd do anything for you-- for your organisation-- to prove my loyalty--"

"Anything?" He purred, his strong fingers drifting down your chin to the front of your neck, squeezing the shape of your throat as you swallowed beneath his hand. He cooed in cold comfort.

"You'd do anything, to prove your fealty to me? I'm not an easy man to impress...I could just fuck you, it's true. Truth be told, I wouldn't need your permission, but it does reduce the fun somewhat, knowing you'd spread your cunt open for me so willingly. Deflowering you would be a privilege, I'm sure."

Your vision almost blacked at the edges with promise. Any allusion of appearing respectable fell like broken glass. You felt sorely tempted to dip your fingers between your legs, to pleasure yourself to Suguru's filthy words alone, but you reminded yourself that it was his pleasure you were pledging yourself to.

Suguru saw this; saw your faint, telltale squirms of arousal, as heat pooled in your belly. He hummed, dismissive, looking aside.

"What to do...what to do?"

He clicked his tongue, as if torn by indecision. Still, your throat twitched beneath his hand. Opening your mouth to beg again, you moaned to feel Suguru's thumb dart into your mouth to hold your tongue down.

"I take my pleasure vicariously, little one. I should like to see how far you would demean yourself for me. I should like to see how far your dignity would bend without breaking. Would you like that too, little one?"

You trembled, your knees slipped apart and sloppy, Suguru's hand fixed around your throat with a thumb upon your tongue. You nodded, and nodded again, and again, and again, to Suguru's wan, satisfied huff of mirth.

Up close, his smile was twisted, toxic, and you only wished you knew how right he was, when he surmised that you'd spread yourself for him for just a click of his fingers. You'd let him fuck your virginity away in a heartbeat. You imagined his hand over your mouth as he thrust past your hymen, how he'd catch the shrieks in his hand and devour them like a Curse.

"So you will be fucked, do we agree?"

With no idea to what you consented, you consented instead to your obsession, nodding and nodding again, your splayed fingers clasping at Suguru's robes. He leaned just close enough that he spoke his next words directly against your lips.

"And if you survive, little one...I shall welcome you to my lap with open arms."

Something short-circuited in your brain. Suguru stood, walking away with his back to you, leaving you alone, cold, speechless. You heard a wet, hushed, eldritch rumble to your right, and felt lead drop into your belly.

An enormous, cephalopod Curse, of mottled purple to red ombre, dominated one half of the broad traditional room. Clearly an octopus of eerie origin, its many tentacles tangled and unfurled, its single great, yellow eye rolling and dilating as it fixed on you.

You gasped, scrabbling away, and it grumbled, grasping you by the ankle, and dragging you back across the floor. You shrieked. You heard Suguru chuckle, the palm of his hand lazily pressing across his tenting manhood as the Curse's tentacles gradually wound and twisted around your limbs, ripping your clothes off your body like crepe paper. Every touch left a wet, sticky lubricant on your skin. Suguru toned, low and mild.

"This particular Curse has...desires, as any of us do. I'm sure it would prefer to taste you, over some dirty little monkey, though. And I'd like to watch. You want to give me what I want...don't you?"

You hesitated only briefly, knowing what your answer was. And you couldn't deny (by the time you were bare on the tatami before Suguru, that watching him bite his lip to the image of your naked form being slowly lifted and entwined by shivering, pulsing tentacles) the way it made you throb.

By the time eager little suckers had located your neck, your nipples, and your clit, you arched and mewled with hot little bursts of pleasure. You felt so weightless, lifted and suckled by this hungry beast. By the way it shivered at your taste, leeching off your sex and Cursed energy, the pleasure was not yours alone.

It softened you this way, so that you did not notice how your arms became bound behind your back; so that you did not notice how your legs were folded back and open, into a suspended mating press. A tentacle ran along the length of your sex, its tip teasing against your virgin entrance, as its sucker clasped greedily onto your clit.

The pleasure of its brothers working to suck onto your nipples, tugging and stretching enough to make your toes curl, drew out your moans into pathetic little whimpers. Geto watched as the red and purple limbs wrapping your body writhed harder, and tighter, eager to take their own pleasure, but determined to ensure you were wet and supple enough to take them all.

"G-Geto-sama--" You choked, involuntarily humping with the sucks of the tentacle, making it pulse and shiver, barely resisting sliding inside your tight little hole. Suguru swore under his breath, shuddering, biting one finger between his teeth as the others rested at his temples, his body lying sideways on one elbow.

"Good girl." Suguru hushed, velvet smooth, fucking up against his palm from his spot on the floor. He would have to edge himself carefully, he thought, so he didn't come in his boxers like a boy, at the first moment the tentacle deflowered you. The moment of penetration would be almost too much to bear, even without pleasuring himself in his fist.

"You'll be...full, after this." Suguru mused aloud, hooking his aching cock out to rest against his belly, as your cries of pleasure began to peak. He gripped his fists, the knuckles cracking with the effort of not masturbating himself to completion. "It has quite the volume of semen, from what I have seen it do to the monkey women. You'll ache. Will you take it, for me?"

You nodded, flushed, your eyes half-lidded, breathless in this toxic miasma of pleasure. The speed of the sucks on your clit and nipples increased, and you jerked with the overstimulating pace, not yet at orgasm, but the pleasure harsh enough to make you convulse sharply. The tentacles around you pulsed and shivered, one eager yellow eye and two eager brown eyes fixed on you, watching, waiting.

"O-oohhh f-fuck I'm gonna...gonna come-- gonna come-- o-oooh n-nooooo-- Geto-- haaaah!"

Your orgasm pounded through your bound form with electric intensity. You jerked, convulsing, and the tentacle that sucked on your clit and teased your hymen grew more eager still, pre-cum soaking your entrance to prepare you for its slick penetration.

As you convulsed, humping the limb with guttural groans, you heard Suguru curse again, little jerking spills of pre-cum wetting the hair on his barely exposed belly. He lay back, one arm over his eyes, groaning.

Suguru freed his heated gaze in time to see the tentacle stroke one final time against your entrance, as if licking, tenderising you...before pressing forwards with its tapered tip, thickening so fast as it punched past your virginity to seat itself fully in your pussy.

You arched, screaming against the sudden intrusion. An opportunistic tentacle, bulbous at the tip and thicker than the girthiest cocks you had ever seen in porn, pressed into your open mouth, silencing you into thick gags and swallows.

After a few moments of your pussy clenching, your mouth clenching, your arms pulling involuntarily against the binding limbs...you stilled, supple and used and submissive. With another frisson of delight, the tentacles that were inside you begin to move, thrusting as an eldritch groan of bliss rumbled from the Curse.

You felt every single thrust against your belly, and you twitched, your moans barely audible around the member that pleasured itself with your mouth. A tentacle stretched up, winding itself around your neck to force its extension, and you gagged to feel the arousal fuck deeper. It shivered again, barely able to restrain itself.

Geto had almost ejaculated untouched, to see the tentacle punch through your virginity like it was tissue paper. The cool façade he usually maintained faltered, also paper thin. A drip of sweat crept down his neck as he cursed, releasing his clothes enough to bare his chest, his heavy twitching cock, and his belly tensing with the thrill of edging himself.

"Not innocent anymore, little one...shit...does it feel good? Giving yourself over to my monsters?" The Curse groaned, heavy and gravelly, as if answering for you. Geto swore again as it lined up thinner tendrils to coil around your breasts and nipples, teasing, stretching and flicking them.

You jerked with the sinful pleasure of being used, feeling the tentacles fuck, and fuck, and fuck, up your pussy and down your throat. The yellow eye watched you from below, changing your angle occasionally, as if examining its artwork from all perspectives, relishing in the way you squealed when new limbs began to probe your asshole. A thin one dipped inside, as if testing, before coming out again, making way for a more generous counterpart.

You felt it coat you with its sticky pre-cum, first teasing your asshole with one bulbous cock, before carefully easing the head in. It shuddered at the way your pussy involuntarily clenched and milked it in response, drips of pre-cum beginning to slip out of you to the floor.

Another tentacle, thinner, with breeding intent, had already slid into your cunt alongside its thicker brother, and waited at your cervix for you to climax again, so it could steal its chance.

Suguru could not restrain himself any longer, to watch you be fucked raw in suspension, seeing the way your eyes grew unfocused and your body jerked and trembled. He hissed to feel his fist encircle his cock, stroking slowly, in time with the tentacles that thrust in tandem within you.

"Got to come again, little one. It can't take its satisfaction until you do. Do you want the suckers back?"

You only moaned in response, wet and slurping around the tentacle that used your mouth. Suguru flicked one hand at the Curse, an order, and a sucker promptly resited itself on your clit, to suck you to orgasm as you needed.

You moan was dirtier than any Suguru had ever heard and he had to let go of his cock again with a jolt, lest he spill all over the floor. He swore, biting the back of his fist, feeling his peak almost creep over...before ebbing away again, leaving him panting, gasping.

Suguru fucked up against the air as he felt the final climax approaching, sure you were not ready for the way the Curse would leave you heavy with its seed.

It was as the three limbs fucking within you all sped up, in one final push towards completion, that you fell into another orgasm. The ferocity with which the suckers licked at your clit and nipples had you roaring with pleasure around the limb in your mouth, and as you convulsed, you felt the curious sensation of something thinner and more insistent weedle through your cervix to press its tip into your womb.

Mid-orgasm, you felt yourself go lightheaded with the bizarre, vasovagal physiological response to your cervix being invaded. The world blackened at the edges, and you loosened in the limbs, only semi-conscious. The Curse took its chance...and began to fill you.

The tentacles within you pulsed, alternating and peristaltic, as cum began to pulse through, into you. Lost in a black haze of pleasure, your belly grew warm, then hot, and ached, as the little tentacle within your womb spurted loads of warm cum into it. You jerked, swallowing, and clenching, to feel the same happen in your throat and asshole.

The tentacles continued to gently suckle on your breasts and clit, as if soothing you for what it was doing to you. Excess sticky white cum splashed to the floor, running down your chin, your thighs, little squirts oozing out of the suckers on your nipples and clit.

Your pathetic little mewls, and the way your lower belly stretched outwards, bulging with the cum that filled you, pushed Geto over the edge. With two final fucks into his pre-cum wetted fist, he came with hushed curses, praising you with liquid mercury.

"--good girl-- shhhh...take it for me, that's it, filthy girl...take it...shhhit, take it..."

You came back online slowly, aching, your belly cramping as if on your period. The Curse lowered you to the floor with surprising tenderness. As it withdrew its tentacles from your prone, whimpering body, one great limb softly stroked your bloated belly. The Curse groaned, retreating and satisfied, but not before one tentacle stretched out to offer you an affectionate little boop on the nose.

As you lay on the tatami, bare, shivering, and impossibly full of cum, Geto swallowed down the Octopus Curse, his hand and belly still sticky with his own seed. He sighed as though he had just performed some wearing duty, and cast you a look of languid satisfaction.

"...you are welcome here, little one."

Geto smirked. The last thing he heard from your babbling mouth, as his staff dragged you from the room towards the baths, was you thanking him weakly, with a cum-filled mouth, for his acceptance.

Another cult member bowed before Geto, his forehead not even rising from the floor as he spoke.

"Are--are you ready for the next one, Geto-sama?"

Suguru smiled, sharkish, perusing a mental Rolladex for a Curse of choice.

"Yes." Geto sighed, stretching, tucking his cock away and wiping his hands on the back of the flinching cult members' robes. "Send her in."

[ayyy-pee]

Center Stage

suguru whimpers as he pounds into you, folds your legs until there’s a knee on each side of your head. you're so good he has to bite back a gasp when your walls squeeze down on him, gripping his cock so fucking hard he sees stars. his eyes roll back when he reaches a hand down to your clit, swollen and sensitive and he feels the sudden gush of your arousal drip down between your bodies. suguru loves how your tight little cunt always takes him so well, how it makes room for him and holds him like it never wants to let go.

every thrust, every roll of his hips, every slap of your skin meeting has suguru leaning down to groan into the crook of your neck. he doesn’t let up, pounding into you like a man possessed. and he is. your pussy makes him insane, makes him want to scream, makes him want to fucking cry.

it feels like heaven in your walls.

suguru loves to look between you, where your bodies connect and see the creamy mess you’ve made on him. fuck he loves how your pussy always makes a mess. it’s one of his favorite things about you.

that and the way your lips part when he pistons his hips a certain way, touches that sweet spot you love. how your head falls back and your back arches when he wraps his thick fingers around your neck, makes you hold his weight as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. the way your little moans fall from that pretty mouth he loves to bury his cock in. he loves all of that.

he loves the way your hands find his hair and you pull. not gentle at all, just the way he likes. you’re as a desperate and fucking needy as he is.

“come on baby. tell me how much you love my cock.” he pleads. he knows you love it. you've told him plenty of times. but suguru also loves to get his ego stroked.

“i love it, ah- fuck, fuck i love your cock!” you whimper beneath him like the good girl you always are. all he ever has to do is ask and you’ll deliver every time. so obedient. it’s why you’re his favorite.

suguru can feel your walls softly convulsing around him. you’re so close. but while your words were good, they’re weren’t good enough. so suguru slows his pace, staring down at you with half lidded eyes. he wants you to do it right.

“pretty girl forgot her manners,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “i love your cock, what?”

he bottoms out with a particularly harsh thrust that has you crying out, your fingers tightening in his tresses and he chuckles, his dick twitching within the confines of your cunt.

“oh fuck! i love your cock master geto”

there it is.

you peer up through your lashes at the man above you and the smug smile on suguru’s lips sends you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm rushing over you, your body shivering as wave after wave hits you. and your sweet lips muttering his formal title, it has him burying his face in your neck again, whining as his hips stutter with every sloppy thrust until his balls tighten.

he grips your thigh hard, high pitched whimpers falling freely from his mouth as his cock stiffens and his hot, white seed fills your twitching pussy. the release has suguru shaking, struggling to hold his weight as your pussy milks him of every fucking drop.

you’re both panting, both catching your breath as suguru kisses you desperately, pressing kisses to your face, to your lips. and he’s still cumming

“m-master geto,” you mutter between kisses. he hasn’t pulled out of you, just keeps rolling his hips into your slowly, softly as he continues to litter your lips and face with kisses.

suguru hums in acknowledgment.

“you’ll be late to session tonight,” you warn him. “you know there will be big donors there. you don’t want to be late.”

ah yes, the work never stops for suguru. he would love to stay here, on the floor of his stage but it wouldn’t be a good look to have his donors and worshippers walk in on you both in the middle of such a salacious act.

and you, his most favorite follower. there's no way in hell allow anyone to leave the room alive if they saw you this way. no, you're meant to be seen by him this way and him alone. even with your current situation, he knows you are loyal to him. so with a hiss, suguru pulls out of you, smirking when he sees the way you pout at the loss of fullness.

cute.

“come and see me after session” he tells you with one last press of his lips to yours. he crawls off of you carefully and fixes his robe. you nod, watching as he exits the room.

he knows where to find you.

suguru always finds you the moment he enters the room, packed with worshippers ready to give themselves to him. and you’re among them, loyal as ever to him, even as you bow politely and pledge yourself to the organization alongside your husband.

[evillex11]

scanned doodles again :3

getos r from months ago and gojo is just earlier ! I didn't know what else to draw to complete a geto page and I didn't want to stress about it ... so gojo it is!!

getting a freebie scanner is one of the best things that has happened to me. do you see all these textures? delicious...

[noira-l]

𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁

Summary: You are the person people turn to on exceptional situations. Your next target is a young and ambitious cult leader - Geto Suguru.

pairing: cult leader!geto suguru x assasin!reader

wc: 8,3 k

genre: dark themes/suggestive

warnings: mdni, dark themes, morally grey actions, violence, stalking, slight gore, attempt of assasination, power dynamic, sexual tension, knife play, slight body harm, death.

author's note: I wanted to write something about Geto, hopefully however I came up with a good portrait of his character. He is my favourite btw ;3

Collector.

That's what you were called.

The title had stuck, a moniker that felt both accurate and hollow. You collected, yes - but it was never just about the objects. It was about something deeper, something rarer, something alive.

Unique techniques.

Not the hereditary ones, from great clans or families. Just the ones that little is known about, not known, or the ones that haven't been made yet.

And you had a reputation for it.

Famous, or infamous, depending on who you asked. The kind of fame earned through the silent, systematic harvesting of cursed energy. You killed, it was the way you did it. The way you absorbed the very essence of what made a sorcerer powerful. The techniques you consumed left traces on your soul, each one evoking something different. Some were strong, a burst of electricity through your veins. Others, weak, barely more than a whisper of sensation.

Your obsession grew, not with the power, but with the experience of it. Each time, you could feel it, the energy unraveling and weaving itself into you, like a rare wine tasting. It wasn’t about mere survival or strength, it was about savoring. You tasted techniques like a connoisseur, dissecting every note, every pulse, analyzing the flavor of it as it coursed through you.

You might sometimes wonder what the limits of this obsession with novelty and rarity are. You could not, like another connoisseur, buy wine from the faraway provinces of some country or taste cheese from an exceptional animal.

How far would this hunger take you?

You had to get something that belonged directly to the people, and that was quite hard. Well, unless people sometimes come to you on their own with new flavours.

You were proud of your collection.

The rain drummed against the rooftops of Tokyo, creating a symphony that was familiar to a city teeming with underground life. In a cramped, smoky alley, where the light of the street lamps barely reached, stood you.

Your black cloak blended with the darkness of the night, and your hair hid a face that few had the opportunity to see. In a world where pushing the limits of human ability was an everyday occurrence, you were something of a legend. Not surprisingly, your speciality was collecting unique abilities from those, who no longer had the chance to use them.

The black market was a place where you felt somewhat at home. Years spent here had even made you a friend of the place. Here you found everything you needed for your unconventional operations - from forbidden curses to information that could tip the balance in your favour.

It was here that you were to meet your new client.

You waited for him in one of the low, barely lit bars where the ghosts of the past mingled with the smell of tobacco, alcohol and darkness. The man who entered was wearing a fancy suit, but his nervous movements betrayed that he did not feel confident in the place. Before taking a seat opposite you, he looked around as if to make sure no one was following him. His silhouette seemed so small at the large wooden table in the corner of the bar.

"Is that you?" he asked quietly, although a note of arrogance could be detected in his voice.

"To the point." you replied dispassionately, lifting your gaze "I expect you have something interesting for me."

"Geto Suguru, cult leader, very powerfull." you've heard this name before, but you don't know a lot about him.

"Do you think he's worth adding to my collection?" you drilled him with your eyes.

"He…" he gazed too much into your gloom-shrouded eyes "He knows how to make curses obey."

Oh...

Could it be

Curse Spirit Manipulation?

Interesting.

"Geto disregarded my sponsor." the guy in the suit continued "My client was willing to invest in his cause, but this kid…. rejected him as if he was worthless. Now… now he wants someone to show him where he belongs. And who better to do that than you?’" he smiled emotionlessly.

A unique technique, one you've heard of before.

From a certain assassin who met him once.

"Conditions?" you asked, folding your hands on the table. Your movements were quiet, almost hypnotic, as if your every decision had been carefully thought out rather than the result of a moment.

"Silent work, no witnesses, no connections." replied the man opposite, nervously intertwining his fingers. His voice betrayed that he was not used to such conversations. His sweaty forehead and trembling breath indicated that being in your company filled him with anxiety.

"Price?" Your gaze penetrated him as if you were looking for weaknesses in him that you could exploit. You were definitely someone who didn't need to raise your voice to control the situation.

"Isn't adding such a unique skill to the collection a price in itself?" his lips trembled in an attempt to emphasise the merits of the task, although he clearly lacked confidence.

You lifted your gaze, your eyes hidden beneath your eyelids penetrated his body thoroughly, as if you were contemplating whether you would just get bored with him. He was of little importance to you, merely a relay of an order. Uncertainty hung in the air, and the silence between you became heavier than he could bear.

"Forty milion yen." you said in a calm, composed tone. Your words were like the blade of a knife - precise and merciless.

The man almost chuckled, his eyes widening in surprise.

"B-but-" he began to protest, trying to find words to lower the stakes. His hands began to move restlessly, looking for a foothold on the table, but found no solid footing.

"Mininaly." you interrupted him by leaning forward slightly, though without changing your expression. Your voice remained calm, but now there was a note of hardness in it that was impossible to ignore. "If you don't agree, then go find someone else to do the job."

Your words had a finality about them that left no room for negotiation. The man froze, as if he felt a chill run through his body.

He knew there was no other option. In the world in which he lived, your services were of the highest calibre, and trying to seek someone else would be tantamount to failure.

"My supervisor will not be happy with this." he lowered his gaze, driving it into his palms.

"Do I look like i care?" you asked unbothered.

He sighed, knowing that he had lost this invisible battle. He spoke after a while.

"I agree." he said quietly, although bitterness could be heard in his voice. "Forty million."

You smiled slightly, though there was not a hint of warmth in your eyes.

"Good. In that case, consider that what you wanted is already in progress."

𖤓

Was it really him?

You sat perched on the rooftop, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the city. The light fell just right, angled so that you remained invisible to him, but his figure stood clear as day before your eyes.

The photograph the client had given you was clutched in your hand, but now, comparing it to the man below, you no longer needed the image. The details had already seared into your mind.

His face was pale, flawless, as if carved from marble. The features were sharp yet elegant, each one contributing to a striking intensity that seemed to pierce through the space around him.

His eyes, those beautiful eyes - held a focus that unnerved you. Brilliant, fierce, as though the weight of the world rested behind them. They cut through the air with the same razor-sharp precision you’d seen in the photograph, but here, in person, they were alive, filled with something even the best camera couldn’t capture.

A cascade of inky black hair fell over his shoulders, shimmering slightly as it caught the light. It was long, flowing like a dark waterfall, framing the cold perfection of his face. Every movement seemed deliberate, almost regal, as if the air itself bowed to his presence.

The robes he wore were beyond extravagant. Ornate embroidery, each thread painstakingly sewn to create an image of grandeur, wrapped around him in a way that was almost otherworldly. The craftsmanship was undeniable, luxurious, every fold and crease meant to accentuate his authority. You could practically feel the texture of the fabric, sense the weight of the cloth just by watching him. Each stitch was perfect, every piece of ornamentation serving to emphasize the careful artistry that clung to him.

It has to be him.

The photograph could never truly capture the weight of his presence, but now, watching him move, you were certain.

Geto Suguru - Cult leader, Special Grade Curse User, the man your client wanted dead. The man whose cursed technique you craved to collect...

..was truly a captivating view.

𖤓

For the next few months you followed Geto Suguru from obscurity, like a shadow that never disappeared, no matter how intense the light of day was. By the third week, his patterns were etched into your mind - when he woke, when he slept, where he trained, who he trusted.

The first few weeks were standard.

Observe routines, write down habits, identify behaviors, learn about character, relationships and safety measures.

One of your techniques allowed you to dissolve into the shadows, unnoticed and unseen. It was fitting, then, that you had become exactly that - a shadow in his world, always there, always watching, never revealing yourself.

You first started with something basic, like listening to his speeches at cult headquarters, drawn by the intensity with which he spoke about his purpose.

His views were radical, even bizarre, clashing with your own sensibilities. Yet, as unsettling as they were, you couldn’t help but acknowledge that in some ways, he might be right. Not in everything, admittedly, but in enough to make you question.

He was undeniably charismatic. People hung on his every word, their eyes fixed on him like he was their savior, the one who could bring them the salvation they craved. It wasn’t surprising, pleanty of people were so lost that they belive in everything someone can say.

What did surprise you, however, was the sound of his voice. You couldn't expect this. It didn’t match the man you’d been watching from the shadows for so long. You expected something sharp, commanding—something that fit his tall, lean frame and his tilte as a leader. Instead, his voice was affable, syrupy, a smooth stroke across glazed canvas. There was a warmth to it, a richness that flowed over his audience like a soft breeze, disarming them with its elegance and making his words feel like they effortlessly slipped into their minds.

He had the ability to inspire, to reshape people’s perceptions of reality, to make his visions feel like truth. Even you, standing in the background, found yourself momentarily caught in his web of persuasion, wondering if, perhaps, there was something to his philosophy after all.

But the longer you followed him, the more you saw beyond the facade.

This elegance and smoothness hid another, far darker side. Beneath that affable demeanor and polite smile was a man who could remain utterly composed, even as chaos unfolded around him. It was unnerving to witness, how he never flinched, never lost his calm, even when the situation demanded anything but tranquility.

You saw it firsthand. There was a time when a sponsor - someone who had promised to support his cause - failed to deliver. The punishment was swift and brutal. A curse, summoned with the same grace he used in conversation, wrapped itself around the unfortunate man. It began to devour him, piece by piece, agonizingly slow. The room was filled with screams, the air thick with fear and the stench of death.

But Geto remained still. His smile never wavered, his eyes never betrayed the slightest flicker of emotion. He simply watched, as though he were observing something routine, unremarkable. His voice, when he finally spoke, was as calm and smooth as it had been during his speeches, as if he were discussing the weather, not the violent death happening before him.

That was the duality of Geto Suguru. He could shift seamlessly between the benevolent leader his followers adored and the cold, calculating figure willing to let a man be torn apart without so much as a blink. It wasn’t just cruelty - it was control. A calculated display of power, meant to remind those around him that while his voice may be velvet, there was iron beneath it.

In those moments, you saw the full depth of the man you were tracking. He wasn’t just charismatic. He was dangerous. A force that could twist both his power and his personality to fit any situation, never losing his grip on the people or curses that surrounded him. It was chilling, and yet, it was precisely this balance of charm and ruthlessness that made him so compelling.

So hard to pin down, and even harder to predict.

𖤓

When he returned from his speeches, cradling his two children in his arms, everything about him shifted. His smile, so often reserved or calculating, softened into something genuine, warm, and deeply caring. The two girls, nestled against him, wore smiles that radiated the purest joy you’d ever seen, sincere in a way that disarmed you completely. And you understood why. In those moments, they weren’t in the presence of a cult leader or a powerful sorcerer - they were simply with someone they called a father.

He cooked meals for them, simple and unpretentious. In the mornings, he walked them to school, carrying their bags and making sure they had everything they needed. He helped with their studies, patiently guiding them through lessons with the same focus he applied to anything else in his life.

He spoiled them endlessly, indulging their every whim with sweets and new toys, as if trying to make up for the darker realities surrounding their lives. Bags of candies would mysteriously appear in their hands after long days, and their rooms were filled with the latest toys, dolls, and trinkets. It was clear that nothing was off-limits when it came to their happiness.

Sometimes, you’d catch him spending entire afternoons with them, playing in their room or on the roof of the worship headquarters. Their laughter echoed through the walls, so out of place in such a grim environment, yet entirely natural in their presence. These moments seemed pulled from another life, a life that didn’t belong to a man of his power and position. In those hours, Geto wasn’t the man who summoned curses or commanded followers with radical ideals. He was just a father, a teacher, someone who valued the simplicity and joy that his children brought into his world.

It was a strange dichotomy, seeing this softer side of him. It made you question how someone who could sit calmly as a curse devoured a man could also hold so much tenderness in his hands when it came to his daughters.

Watching him with them, it was impossible not to acknowledge that, whatever else he was, he was a devoted father, a man who, in those private moments, seemed to find a kind of peace.

The perfect kind of tranquillity that you could easily disturb. They are lucky that you were commissioned to do a clean job, without additional casualties.

You would take advantage of this visible weak point, without any problem.

𖤓

You observed him daily, each training session a display of skill honed with painstaking precision. His movements were fluid, deliberate, a mastery over both body and cursed energy that left little room for error. Every gesture, every technique, was calculated down to the smallest detail. There was no wasted effort.

He began each session with strength exercises, his body moving with a kind of restrained power that spoke of years of relentless discipline. Clad in a dark, form-fitting training suit, his movements were both fluid and precise, the fabric hugging the sharp lines of his lean, muscular frame. The suit itself was simple, practical, black with subtle markings along the seams, designed for ease of movement yet offering no distraction from the task at hand. His long, dark hair was usually tied back, but occasionally a few loose strands would slip free, sticking to the nape of his neck as beads of sweat formed along his skin.

Push-ups, pull-ups, lunges - he moved through each exercise with a sense of rhythm, his body cutting through the still air like a blade. There was no excess movement, no wasted energy. His core strength was visible in the way he balanced himself, the quiet strength of his legs when he transitioned from one position to another. His breathing was steady, controlled, as if he were channeling not only physical strength but mental focus into every motion.

Everything before moving on to what fascinated you most - his control over curses.

Each curse, once summoned, was inspected with meticulous care. What surprised you was his flawless memory of each one, no matter how recently acquired. He never seemed overwhelmed by their numbers, as though he held their essence in his mind as clearly as if they were physical objects in his hands.

Often, he would stand in the middle of the square behind the base, surrounded by the dark entities he had summoned, and simply think. You could see him piecing together strategies in his mind, testing new combinations of curses. He would send projectiles flying, measuring their reach, or summon smaller curses to see how they interacted with one another. He was always refining, always pushing the boundaries of what his curses could do.

It was almost hypnotic to watch. His ability to devise new strategies and possibilities was relentless, and more than once, you caught yourself silently offering suggestions, wondering if his latest idea could be improved upon.

Even though he trained alone, there was a sense that he knew he was never truly by himself. He always seemed vaguely aware, as though he could feel your gaze, but he never let on. For him, training wasn’t just preparation for combat, it was a form of deep concentration, a space to plan, strategize, and reflect.

In the moments when he paused, resting after hours of intense focus, you could almost sense his thoughts drifting. He seemed distant then, as if his mind was wandering far beyond the physical space around him, perhaps contemplating the weight of his purpose, the future, or the fate of the world he was trying to reshape.

𖤓

There were days when you accompanied him on trivial matters—mundane errands like shopping, blending in among people as if nothing about his life was extraordinary.

It was strange, really. He always chose shops run by sorcerers, no matter how inconvenient or far they were. In these places, his demeanor softened. His face would light up with a gentle expression, his posture loosening. When speaking to fellow sorcerers, customers, salespeople, shop owners, he was almost casual, relaxed. He’d exchange words about everyday matters, asking after their lives with genuine interest, smiling as he listened to their problems or needs. It was a side of him that showed a quiet, almost paternal care for his own kind.

However, when sorcerer-run shops weren’t an option, he would settle for regular stores, those run by non-sorcerers. On the surface, his behavior didn’t change much—still polite, still composed. But after watching him for so long, you began to notice the subtle differences. There was a barrier, invisible but palpable, that separated him from everyone else. Even as he spoke to them, he remained distant, almost indifferent. His face held the same gentleness, but there was a quiet detachment beneath it, a sense that he was more than they could understand, and he made it clear in the smallest ways. It wasn’t arrogance, exactly, but an awareness of the divide that existed between him and the rest of the world. He was accessible, yet never truly one of them.

𖤓

On one occasion, you watched him as he sat at his desk in the dim light of his flat, practicing calligraphy. The black ink flowed across the paper with a precision that mirrored the discipline in every aspect of his life. Each brushstroke was planned, filled with a quiet sense of calm and inner balance. For him, this was not just art, it was a form of self-improvement, a meditative practice that demanded focus, patience, and reflection.

His face, normally composed, now carried an intensity of concentration that fascinated you. His eyes were sharp, tracing each line as though it held more significance than just its form. Every letter he wrote seemed to symbolize something deeper, every stroke a reflection of his life, carefully crafted but never without purpose. You could sense the connection between his mind and the ink, as if the act of writing was a metaphor for the control he sought in all things.

At times, his hand would pause mid-stroke, his brush hovering just above the paper. His brows furrowed slightly as he studied the work before him, considering how best to proceed. His concentration was palpable, as if the next mark could determine the balance of the entire piece. He would tilt his head just so, analyzing how the ink should glide over the expensive parchment, the way it should settle, just as his long black hair cascaded down his back with an effortless elegance.

When an error occurred—a stroke too thick or too light—he never hesitated. He would calmly set the paper aside and begin again, his patience unwavering. Sometimes, he would discard entire pages, whole phrases rewritten until they reached his exacting standards. You knew that many nights, he worked late into the hours of dawn, refusing to rest until the parchment was perfect, every line a testament to his dedication.

The completed works that hung in his office were impressive—each one a masterpiece of balance and precision, filled with a quiet power that matched the man himself. They weren’t just pieces of calligraphy; they were expressions of who he was, his relentless pursuit of mastery in every facet of life. Watching him, you couldn’t help but admire the depth of his commitment to both the smallest details and the grandest designs.

𖤓

One night, you witnessed something that shattered your carefully constructed perception of him. As usual, you stood cloaked in the safety of shadows, concealed by a cursed technique that allowed you to observe Geto closely without consequence. He sat alone in his study, dressed in his night robes, hair wet and loose, falling smoothly over his shoulders. The dim lamplight cast a long, solitary shadow across the room, highlighting the stark loneliness in his posture.

In his hands was an old photograph, though the details were initially too obscured for you to make out. His shoulders were slumped, eyes fixed on the image, completely still. The sight was so unlike him, and before you could piece together why, you saw it, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, as if trying to maintain his stoic façade, but it was futile. More tears followed, staining the photograph. It was a rare, raw moment, one that you had never associated with someone like Geto Suguru.

It felt wrong, almost invasive, to witness this vulnerability, but curiosity gnawed at you. You stepped closer, using the cursed technique to remain hidden, desperate to understand what had broken the man you thought was unbreakable.

And then, you saw the photograph.

Three people stood side by side, radiating camaraderie and carefreeness. On the left was Geto, unmistakably younger, with his hair neatly tied into a bun. His expression was calm, indifferent even, yet there was a rebellious spark in his eyes, emphasized by the crude hand sign he flashed at the camera. The person in the middle had short, reddish-brown hair and a radiant smile, eyes closed in pure joy, clutching a lollipop. And on the right...

Your heart skipped a beat.

The person standing slightly taller had striking white hair, wearing round sunglasses that had slipped slightly, revealing crystalline blue eyes. He was grinning broadly, flashing a peace sign with the same carefree energy.

Your senses sharpened, and the realization hit you with startling clarity. Those eyes - everything about him matched the description you had once heard. You studied Geto’s face again, now buried in his hands.

He knew him. There was no doubt now.

This job, already complex, had just become far more interesting.

You were tasked with eliminating Geto Suguru, and yet, standing there, watching him fall apart in the privacy of his grief, you began to feel that he was more than just a target.

He was the gateway you had long sought to get the information you needed to find.

He was a flesh and blood man who had his own desires, hopes and secrets. Secrets that may never have been meant to be uncovered, but which were now beginning to attract you more and more.

You knew that your task was coming to an inevitable end. But as you looked at it, feeling its complexity, you began to wonder if it would really be the end.

Were you in a position to find out the information you were looking for, before he expels his last breath?

𖤓

The night outside the cult’s headquarters was still, an undisturbed blanket of silence cloaking everything - a perfect contrast to the work that lay ahead. You moved effortlessly, slipping through the darkness with a kind of elegance born from experience, your presence vanishing into the shadows like ink on black velvet. The building loomed above, riddled with traps, intricate wards designed to keep the unprepared at bay. But of course, you were different. You had planned for this, down to the smallest detail.

Time, as always, was a matter of precision. You watched, waited, not in haste but with the patience of someone who has done this before. The secretary, rarely one to leave her station, finally rose. Her footsteps, barely audible, faded as she disappeared into the depths of the hallway. It was then that you moved, an invisible force in the room.

The security system awaited you next, but it was no match for the methodical motions of your hands. The control panel’s buttons yielded to your touch, each one pressed in deliberate succession. A soft, almost imperceptible click signaled the system’s deactivation, and the silence that followed was absolute. No one would suspect. Not until it was far too late.

Geto Suguru was still in his office. You had known he’d be here - his habits were a well-worn path you had studied for weeks. He liked to linger, alone, long after the cultists had gone, the weight of his decisions pressing into the late hours. Tonight was no exception.

Your feet carried you soundlessly behind him, your cursed technique weaving a veil of invisibility over you like the thinnest layer of silk. He strode ahead, his robes flowing in the faint light as he made his way down the hall. The door to his office closed with a quiet click.

This was it.

You slipped inside just as he settled into his chair, oblivious to the disruption in the air around him. The lamplight threw a soft, golden hue across his desk, illuminating the cluttered expanse of papers, scrolls, remnants of a long day. He sighed, a sound that conveyed the heavy burden of leadership as he leaned back, readying himself for the night’s work. That’s when you stepped from the shadows, your form coalescing into view like a slow brushstroke on the canvas of his solitude.

For a split second, he froze. But then, instead of fear, amusement painted his face. His laugh was low, almost a purr, as if death itself had become an old acquaintance.

"So, death pays me a visit tonight?" his voice, smooth and unruffled, slipped easily into the quiet. "You’re not the first, you know. There have been others. All of them thought they could do what you’re here for."

Before he could even think of making a move, you acted swiftly, severing his access to his cursed techniques in a single, decisive moment. His power - so closely tied to his identity - was locked away before he could call upon a single curse. He blinked, a flash of surprise crossing his face, but his composure remained almost unnervingly intact.

"Don’t bother." you said, your voice sharp and unwavering, cutting through the quiet like a blade poised just above skin. "The katana under your desk and the dagger on your thigh - neither will help you now."

His gaze flickered toward his desk, where the concealed katana lay waiting, then down to his thigh, where the dagger’s hilt was nestled beneath the folds of his robe. A small, knowing smile curved his lips, but he didn’t reach for either weapon.

With slow, measured steps, you moved forward, taking the seat across from him, the tension in the room palpable but controlled. There was no urgency for violence—no rush to end this confrontation. You had the advantage now, and that knowledge kept you calm, steady.

"Let’s talk." you offered, your voice void of malice, almost casual, as if you were suggesting a conversation over tea.

Geto leaned back in his chair, still smiling, though you noticed the flicker of intrigue behind his eyes—he hadn’t expected this.

"A conversation, is it?" he mused, his tone light, but the undercurrent of curiosity was unmistakable. "Interesting. You have me at a disadvantage, and yet here you are, offering words instead of death."

"I wouldn't call it disadvantage, I'd call it mercy, but however you prefer."

His hand hovered over the desk, the motion slow and deliberate, no longer a threat. He knew, as well as you did, that his usual methods of escape or attack were useless. The fight was already over, and now all that remained was the question of why. You could feel his curiosity hanging in the air, thickening the tension between you, though it remained strangely civil.

"Very well." he said finally, folding his hands in front of him. "Let’s talk. But tell me, what do you hope to gain from this conversation?"

"Information." you said, leaning back in your chair, mirroring his posture, your eyes never leaving his. "Corpses don’t talk."

Geto’s amusement lingered, a faint glimmer in his dark eyes, but beneath it, you could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—he was keenly aware of the limits now imposed on him.

Without his techniques, without his weapons, the usual paths out of situations like this had been cut off. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, he wasn’t rattled. If anything, he seemed curious, his attention sharpened by the unpredictability of your approach.

You leaned back in the chair, your gaze unwavering on Geto Suguru, who still wore the faintest trace of amusement on his face. Yet, beneath that surface, the tension in his posture was unmistakable. He knew his options were narrowing—no techniques, no weapons, and certainly no room to strike back.

"Years ago.." you began, your voice calm but pointed, "you participated in the mission to protect Riko Amanai. We both know how that mission ended."

For a split second, his smile faltered. His gaze sharpened as he processed your words, but he didn’t interrupt. He was waiting, measuring you, calculating your intentions. You didn’t bother giving him the space to respond.

"Toji Fushiguro.." you continued, watching his reaction as the name slipped past your lips "... he claims he killed Satoru Gojo during that mission. But we both know Gojo is alive. Untouchable, even. So I’m curious, what did Toji use to hurt him? Was it a tool?”

The atmosphere shifted. For the first time, Geto’s eyes darkened, the mask of playful indifference slipping entirely. The name 'Toji Fushiguro' was a raw nerve, one that visibly rattled him. He shifted in his seat, and the subtle tension in his jaw told you everything, the memories, the bitterness, the unresolved pain from that mission were surfacing.

"Why do you think what he says is true?" he asked, his tone cold but steady. "Satoru is alive and well."

"Toji may be a bastard and a fraud -" you replied, leaning forward just enough to make your point clear, "-but he’d never lie about killing Six Eyes. His pride wouldn’t let him.'"

The room felt heavy with the weight of that truth. Toji Fushiguro’s reputation as the "Sorcerer Killer" had been well-earned, but something had given him the edge over someone as powerful as Gojo. Something dangerous, and you needed to know what it was.

Geto’s expression hardened. He was stone-faced, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes—loyalty, perhaps. He wasn’t going to betray Gojo easily. That much was clear.

"Even if I had that information.." he said slowly, his voice cool but unwavering "..why would I give it to you?"

Your patience, thin to begin with, began to fray.

And then, suddenly, Geto moved, faster than you anticipated. His hand shot out, aiming for your hair, while his other hand reached for your wrist, intending to slam you against the table. His reflexes were precise, well-practiced, and had you been anyone else, he might have succeeded.

But you weren’t anyone else.

His hands passed right through you, grasping at nothing but air, as if you were made of smoke. A faint, amused smile touched your lips as you watched him realize his mistake, his hand still extended toward you - now useless.

You let out a soft, almost mocking laugh, that echoed in the silent room.

"I told you, Geto." you said, the amusement in your voice unmistakable. "That kind of play belongs in the bedroom. And it’s not going to work here."

His eyes narrowed, frustration flickering beneath his calm exterior. His hand dropped back to his side, but his expression tightened, a clear sign that he hated this feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t in control anymore, and you had just reminded him of that fact - subtly, but unmistakably.

You leaned forward, your tone dropping to something quieter, more dangerous, your gaze locking onto his.

"So." you said, voice sharp enough to cut through the air "Will you tell me? What did Toji use? I know he wasn’t lying."

The room fell silent again, the tension now palpable as Geto weighed his next move, knowing full well you weren’t leaving without answers.

You sighed, a subtle edge of exasperation creeping into your tone as Geto maintained his stubborn silence. His loyalty to Gojo was admirable, but it was beginning to wear thin, his resolve starting to crack under the weight of your persistence. You weren’t here to exploit weaknesses, but to prevent a far greater threat—one he seemed too proud to acknowledge. The real danger wasn’t you. It was the ones hunting for the same answers you sought.

Without breaking eye contact, you stood from your chair. In one fluid motion, you teleported behind him, your movement so swift that he barely had time to react. Before he could resist, your hand gripped a fistful of his long, dark hair, pulling it back gently, yet with enough force to assert control. At the same time, chains of cursed energy materialized, wrapping around his wrists. They were meant to cause pain, enough to hold him still, preventing any further struggle.

"You’re still silent." you murmured, your voice low, close to his ear. There was no malice in your tone, but a quiet firmness that left no room for misinterpretation. "I’ve already told you. This isn’t going to work. You can resist all you want, but we both know this conversation won’t end until I get what I need."

His body tensed, muscles coiling with frustration as he tested the chains, but they held fast. His pride kept him from yielding easily, but the tension in his posture was clear. You tugged his hair back, just enough to force his eyes to meet yours, the angle sharp. His expression remained hard, but there was a flicker of something else behind the frustration. Perhaps curiosity or perhaps the first signs of understanding.

"I don’t want Gojo dead." you repeated slowly, each word measured, leaving no space for doubt.

"I need to know what can hurt him. Where his limits lie. Because someone else is looking for those answers, and when they find them, we both know what happens next. Sorcerers fighting for power, tearing each other apart. A new era of chaos, like the Heian one. And we both know how dangerous that is."

Geto’s gaze faltered for a moment, his jaw tightening as the weight of your words sank in. His silence was no longer one of refusal—it was hesitation, contemplation. You pressed forward, knowing the balance was tipping.

"Is that really what you want?" you asked, your voice softening, shifting from a demand to an appeal. "Your vision of a perfect world -will it survive if everyone’s fighting for the title of 'the strongest'? If they’re killing each other without mercy? Gojo’s absence would plunge everything into chaos. You’ve seen what happens when balance is broken."

His resistance was weakening. You could see it in the slight tremor in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw slowly easing. The room felt still, heavy with the gravity of the situation. You tighten your grip on his hair, letting him know the meaning of your words.

"I’m not your enemy." you whispered, the intensity in your voice tempered with sincerity. "But I need to know. What is the one thing that can kill him? What did Toji use?"

The room hung in silence, the tension palpable as the moment stretched between you.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Geto exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly as though the weight of the decision had finally settled on him.

He looked up at you, eyes dark but resigned, and spoke quietly, his voice barely a breath. "The Inverted Spear of Heaven." he said. "It’s the only weapon that nullifies cursed techniques. That’s what Toji used to kill Satoru, if only for a moment."

You listened intently, hanging on to Geto's every word as he spoke, and as he revealed the truth, you tightened the chains around his wrists just a little more.

"But Gojo survived," you prompted, voice steady, though tension hummed between you. "How?"

Geto's gaze met yours, calm but resolute. "Because Gojo always comes back," he said, his voice soft yet certain. "He was pushed to the brink, but in the end, he found a way. That’s what makes him different. Even when you think he’s finished, he’s not."

There was an unspoken challenge in his eyes, a tension that, despite his current position, had not broken. His breathing had steadied, but the energy in the room was thick—simmering with something unresolved. His body remained taut, muscles straining against the cursed chains, though his eyes, steady and dark, dared you to push further. That fire inside him, despite everything, still burned.

You leaned in closer, voice a soft, intimate murmur yet laced with the same unyielding control that held him. "I kinda like this," you mused, letting your words linger in the air between you, "how hopeless you are in my grasp. And I think... maybe you do too."

For a split second, something raw flickered in Geto's eyes, something dangerous and defiant. He didn’t reply, but the tension between you spoke volumes. Despite the chains binding him, despite his power being stripped away, there was a part of him that refused to submit. It was that glimmer of rebellion that made this moment all the more electric. He knew what's coming.

Unexpectedly, his voice broke the silence, soft but with a strange calmness. "If this is my end, can I at least have a last wish?"

Your brow arched, amusement curling at the edges of your lips. "I never do that, but I will make an exception." you replied, your tone indulgent, as if granting him one final luxury before the inevitable.

His lips curled into a faint, bitter smirk, laced with something darker. "Kill the one who sent you after me."

You laughed softly, dark and teasing, impressed by the audacity behind his words. "Clever." you murmured, the spark of amusement glinting in your eyes. "I agree."

He was lucky that you have developed a fondness for him.

You released your grip on his hair, though the cursed chains remained, holding him still. Reaching for the knife at your side, you pulled it free in a slow, deliberate motion. The blade gleamed in the dim light, casting a soft glow as you held it between the two of you.

Gently, you lifted his chin again, this time with the flat of the knife, and traced the sharp angles of his jawline with your fingers. His skin felt cool beneath your touch, and you could feel his breath catch momentarily, his body tensing beneath the intimate pressure of the blade.

"It’s a shame… really." you murmured, your voice quiet, almost regretful as the blade hovered dangerously close to his throat. "A huge loss to let that beautiful face wither."

Your hand grazed his cheek in a tender, almost intimate gesture that stood in sharp contrast to the violence promised by the knife. You could feel his breathing quicken at the contact, his body responding to the unexpected softness. But then, as if accepting his fate, Geto exhaled slowly, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips, his eyes softening with a sense of calm surrender.

"I didn’t think death would be so beautiful." he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, yet carrying the weight of his resignation.

You returned his smile, something sad and knowing flickering in your eyes as the knife rested lightly against his skin. His fate was sealed, and you both knew it—yet there was no fear in him, only acceptance.

𖤓

The alley was shrouded in darkness, the dim flicker of distant streetlights barely reaching the edges of where you stood, as though even the light hesitated to touch this forgotten corner. The air hung thick with the remnants of rain, a dampness that clung to the walls, slicking the pavement that gleamed faintly under the errant shimmer of passing headlights. The city buzzed in the distance, its pulse faint but steady, yet here, in this narrow, forsaken space, time seemed to slow to a whisper. Shadows stretched long, silent sentinels watching as you waited, patient and still, against the cool brick.

Your senses were sharp, attuned to every murmur of the night. It wasn’t long before the man arrived, his form out of place in the cloak of darkness. Wrapped in a cheap coat, he moved with a fragile unease, his footsteps soft but betraying the tremor beneath. The tension grew, the air thickening with each step he took toward you, until he finally came to a halt before you. His face, gaunt and pale beneath the scarce light, gleamed with the sheen of sweat, though the night was cool. His voice, shaky and uncertain, trembled as it cut through the stillness.

“Is it done?” The question, brittle as a dried leaf, hung in the air.

You let the silence linger, tasting his unease before you nodded, your voice steady, emotionless. "It’s done. No one’s seen Geto Suguru for a week now. His followers grow restless. You must have felt it."

Relief washed over him, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the world had finally been lifted. With fumbling hands, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, nondescript bag, thrusting it into your hand with the desperation of someone eager to escape the moment. "Thank you… for your services," he muttered, the words rushed and hollow, already turning to leave, his back to you before the exchange was even complete.

But something held you still, the weight of the bag wrong, off. Lighter than it should be. A frown crept across your features as you opened the clasp, the soft click echoing through the alley. Inside, the faint glimmer of money caught your eye, but it was too little—only half of what had been promised.

"Wait."

The word, simple yet edged with the weight of authority, stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, his face twitching with forced calm, a weak smile stretched thin across his lips. "What’s the problem?" he asked, though the flicker of fear in his eyes betrayed him.

You held the bag aloft, its lightness speaking volumes. "This is only half."

The man’s face twisted, pride battling with uncertainty as he stammered a response. "My supervisor said it was a fair price. After all, you’ve gained Geto’s power, haven’t you? That’s worth more than money."

There was a false confidence in his voice, but it crumbled under the weight of the moment. His chest puffed slightly, as though pride alone could shield him from what was coming, but his eyes - nervous, darting - told another story. He stood on the edge of something sharp, something inevitable, and he knew it.

You sighed, a soft sound like the wind through withered leaves. "He said you’d do something like this."

Before he could react, his body seized, convulsing violently as his legs buckled beneath him. His neck was covered by a barely visible thread, that sunk into his neck by a single stroke of your finger. You snapped your fingers and the thread penetrated deep into his flesh, opening his throat. In an instant, he crumpled to the wet ground, eyes wide in shock, life flickering out like a candle in a storm. The shadows seemed to deepen, the silence folding in on itself as the man lay still, his fate sealed without fanfare.

From the dark, a figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows as though he had always been part of them. His robes flowed like ink, blending into the night, his movements fluid, almost serene in their grace. His inky black hair cascaded over his shoulders, catching the faintest hint of light, while his sharp, flawless features held a cold beauty, carved from darkness itself.

"I told you he’d cause trouble." Geto said with a slight, knowing smile, amusement dancing in his eyes as he glanced down at the lifeless body.

You tossed the bag over your shoulder, unbothered, meeting Geto’s gaze with a cool, unyielding calm. "You’ve got two weeks to pay me the rest."

Geto chuckled, a sound like velvet, though there was an edge beneath it, something darker that lingered. "And how do you know I don’t have that money now?" His voice, smooth and playful, hinted at the game he enjoyed.

You raised an eyebrow, your tone steady, laced with certainty. "I know more than you think. Your funds aren’t what they used to be."

His laughter was soft, almost charming, but beneath it was the sharp glint of calculation. "Two weeks, then?" he echoed, as if testing the waters.

"Two weeks." you repeated, your voice carrying the weight of finality. "And if you try to cheat me, I’ll finish what I started."

For a moment, the alley held its breath, the world balanced on the edge of your words. Geto’s smile didn’t falter, but the spark of danger flickered in his eyes, acknowledging the truth between you.

And then, without another word, you dissolved into a swirl of black mist, your form blending into the night as though you were nothing more than a shadow yourself. The alley fell silent once more, the city’s distant hum the only sound that remained.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

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My Geto Suguru Masterlist

My Geto "Cult Leader" Suguru Masterlist

Pairing(s): Slightly Yandere Cult Leader!Geto Suguru x Single Mother!Fem!Reader Summary: After losing your son in the street after bringing him to visit the annual light show that happened in your town, you find him crying in the arms of a handsome - yet strangely unsettling - stranger with two girls standing beside him. Warnings: No manga (or really any anime) spoilers, Suguru is just a tad obsessive and whatever, Suguru being prejudiced against humans as normal, Suguru is a sly and smooth motherfucker (almost literally 😏) (maybe it will be literally if i write a part 2 😏😏) Word Count: 2,355 Extra Notes: In this story, Suguru is 23, Nananko and Mimiko are 9, the reader is 23 as well, and her son is 3 years old

part 2

While Geto Suguru wasn’t one for Monkey festivities any time of the year, he couldn’t bear to deny his two adoptive daughters, Nanako and Mimiko. Not when they shot him puppy dog eyes soft enough to melt the heart of the infamous Sukuna Ryomen. 

Well… maybe not him, but you get the idea. 

The light show they begged him to take them to, although still run by and flooded with monkeys, was, admittedly, beautiful. The lights reflected off the glass windows of the homes they passed by; they wrapped around the trees and bushes lining the street and were worn as bracelets on the wrists of the smaller monkeys that ran through the crowds, uncaring of the legs they crashed into. 

Now, of course, Suguru would never allow anything to happen to his daughters, especially since they were still not even ten years old, so he designated a cursed spirit to reside on each of their shoulders, one for each girl. He allowed them to wander off if they desired - and told them as such - but he was glad they didn’t want to separate from him in such a crowded place. 

He cursed himself for jinxing it with that thought real soon, though, when they decided to venture off without him to watch the dragon dancers. 

With a sigh, he shook his head at the desire to go after them and decided to only keep an eye on them from his spot. 

He didn’t move as they ran to the side of the road, holding each other’s hands in excitement with gleaming grins on their faces. 

He didn’t move when they ran into a young boy, knocking him onto his hands and knees.

He didn’t move when they stopped in their tracks and glanced at each other before hesitantly apologizing, an act that made Suguru smile despite himself. He knew he was raising them right - despite the boy being a monkey. 

However, he did move when he realized that statement wasn’t true.

The boy wasn’t a monkey. 

If he was, why did he start screaming in horror at the cursed spirits propped on the shoulders of the girls as soon as he looked up at them for the first time?

Nanako - although momentarily shocked - dropped to her knees to console the boy on instinct but was surprised further when he scrambled away from her, scraping up his already torn and bleeding hands and knees even more. Mimiko helped her twin sister back to her feet and looked at the boy with confused eyes before following his line of sight to the grotesque figure sitting on her shoulder. Her gaze flickered back and forth between the curse and the boy with growing confusion until it clicked in her head. 

He could se-

“Are you alright?”

The familiar voice of the man she grew to see as her father interrupted her silent revelation and she looked to see him kneeling in front of her, blocking the sight of the cursed spirit and the girls from the boy’s eyes and offering him a smile that was quite similar to the ones he gave Nanako and Mimiko. 

The young boy in front of him whimpered, trying to peer around Suguru’s head to see if the monster was still there only to scream and cry more when it hadn’t disappeared. 

In an action that was nearly entirely instinctive, Suguru picked the boy up and wrapped his arms around him, holding him against his chest as he cried. The long sleeves of his traditional kimono blocked the crisp wind and soothed the gentle shivering that had unknowingly overcome the younger boy’s body.

“Where are your parents, hm?” The cult leader asked, silently and selfishly hoping he didn’t have any so he could get him out of a place so overrun by the stench of monkeys and the bodies that always follow. 

As if reminded that he had any, the boy started to cry even harder. “M-mama!”

‘Damnit,’ Suguru cursed to himself, keeping the smile on his face unmoving while he gently caressed the boy’s back. From behind him, Nanako - who was still oblivious to the boy’s sorcerer abilities and confused as to why her dad was holding the, presumed, monkey - walked up to him and scowled at him. Just as his eyes widened at the new proximity of the monster and a scream built up in his throat, 3 things happened: Nanako’s eyes widened in final realization, Mimiko wrapped a hand around her sister’s upper arm to yank her back, and an unfamiliar voice started frantically shouting a name in the distance. 

Or, at least, the voice was unfamiliar to the family of three. It was more than familiar to the boy whose eyes widened in a mix of fear and relief - fear at the monster and relief at the voice - and he started struggling to get out of the 23-year-old cult leader’s gentle grasp. Reluctantly, Suguru let the boy go and watched as he started running towards the woman screaming his name.

When your eyes finally caught sight of your son after minutes of frantic searching and being unable to find him even when trying to use your cursed energy technique, you were overjoyed. The unshed tears that built in your eyes finally fell down your cheeks and you fell to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around him in a secure hold. 

“Ryōsuke! How many times have I told you not to run off!” You scolded him, cursing yourself when your voice cracked and rubbing his back as he sobbed into your shoulder. He gave no response and just weakly held onto your shirt, most likely ruining it with his tears and snot but you didn’t care. You’d had plenty of shirts ruined by his tears and snot before, and this most likely wouldn’t be the last one. 

Your eyes flickered over his shoulder to where he had run over from and you saw three people standing there watching you. One was a man who looked to be around the same age as you wearing a dark purple and green kimono along with two girls, one blond and wearing a light pink dress with hearts scattered across the fabric while the other was a brunette and was wearing a black t-shirt with a Minecraft sheep on it and blue shorts. The man, who hadn’t torn his eyes away from you and the boy for a second, had a kind yet slightly unnerving smile on his face. It made you want to walk up to him and express your gratitude for watching your son as much as turn in the opposite direction and ignore him entirely. 

With a sigh, you decided to do your duty as a good and polite person and thank him for his kindness. Besides, it wasn’t every day you met someone in this town who wasn’t immediately put off by you and your son’s presence. Of course, the average person wouldn’t be able to tell it was your cursed energy that made them feel uncertain about being around you but they could sense something off. You wondered if the somewhat unnerving feeling you got from this stranger was the one your neighbors got from you. 

Or maybe it was because of the two hideous creatures that sat on the two girls’ shoulders.

With a forced smile, you picked Ryōsuke up and placed him on your hip before standing up and walking over to the group with him, smiling kindly at the two girls and trying your hardest to keep your gaze off the invisible creatures on their shoulders. You were taken aback by their scornful expressions but pushed it aside as them being shy or something of the sort. 

When you looked back up at the man standing in front of you, you were awestruck by how much more handsome he was up close. Your forced smile became a little more genuine as you somewhat awkwardly shifted the boy on your hip around. “Hi.”

Although your smile turned more genuine, it seemed the longer you stood in front of him the less his was. It made you shift nervously on your feet. He didn’t say anything as he looked at you but you could practically taste the disdain that flooded off him in waves. 

“Um, I just wanted to thank you,” you started. When he still didn’t say anything, you filled the silence as a nervous habit. “F-for watching over my son. I put him down for a second to get him a funnel cake since he was begging for one and then when I turned around to pay, he had suddenly disappeared-”

‘It’s unfortunate such a pretty face belongs to such an arrogant monkey. Placing food as a higher priority than her gifted son. I should kill her right here and now,’ Suguru thought to himself, keeping the polite smile on his face to avoid any of your suspicion. 

“-so I just wanted to t-thank yo-”

Your son screaming in your ear shocked you out of your stuttered rambles and you frantically looked over at him, trying to figure out what was making him freak out.

“What? What is it? Are you okay?” You asked only to find him pointing at the two girls while sobbing. You looked over, already knowing you’d see the creatures that rested there, and tore your sight away just as fast. Despite having to hide your son’s abilities to see cursed spirits for his whole life thus far, it never got easier to pretend you couldn’t see the things you really could. 

You wrapped your hand over Ryōsuke’s eyes and tucked his head into your neck, whispering, “Don’t look at them, okay? I’ll protect you.”

While consoling your shaking son, you couldn’t see the pleasant surprise that settled on Suguru’s face. Meanwhile, his two daughters erupted in soft whispers, saying how a monkey like you didn’t deserve your son. He held out a hand to stop them and despite their confusion, they did so immediately. 

Once your son finally settled back down with his head firmly tucked away into your neck - you were even nearly positive he had fallen asleep - you turned back to the man and allowed yourself to be shocked at the once forced smile on his face no longer being forced. It allowed the tension to leave your body as the genuineness of his gaze washed over you and calmed your nerves. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you said with an apologetic smile. “He has schizophrenia and can’t tell the difference between what is real and what’s not just yet,” you explained, before adding, “It’s run in my family for a long time,” for good measure. You adjusted the boy in your arms to free up one of your hands to hold out in greeting to the man before introducing yourself with a smile. 

The girls beside him both scoffed, both at your excuse for your son - which they thought was you simply being foolish enough to believe that - and at the audacity you had for believing yourself worthy of touching your hand to their dad’s. They were left in utter bewilderment when Geto had no qualms about returning your handshake. 

“My name is Geto Suguru but you may call me Suguru, Darling,” he responded with a wink and easy smile. 

The girls’ jaws dropped. 

His hand was soft when he placed it in yours and you blushed not only at the heat emanating from his palm but also from the nickname. You nodded. “Suguru,” you tested the name out on your tongue, unknowing of the effect it had on him. The light blush that grew up his neck was so small in the darkness of the night you could only blame it on the lights flashing from the parade. “Well, Suguru, I will be taking my leave now. I think losing my son for one night was enough for me to last a lifetime,” you joked. You saw what you thought was a bit of panic flash through his eyes before it disappeared in an instant. 

“Well I can’t possibly let you travel home alone on a night like this,” he started to insist. “At least allow me to take your number so that you can let me know when you’ve returned safely. It would bring my girls and I some peace of mind.”

Damn. This man was smooth. 

With a quirk of your lips, you nodded in agreement and handed him your phone to put his number in. Once he did and you sent him a text he seemed satisfied. 

“I’ll be off now, but it was nice to meet you. Thank you again for looking after my son in my absence. It means more than I can tell.”

He nodded. “Of course, Darling. Have a safe trip home.”

When you turned around and hid the growing smile and blush on your face in the sleeping boy in your arms’ hair, you didn’t see the way Suguru summoned up a small low-level demon to follow you home. Just because you could see them didn’t mean he couldn’t make it so it wasn’t in your line of sight at all. It was all for your sake, in case you forgot to send him the text letting him know you were home safe and sound! It was just for your safety! Nothing else. 

He wasn’t storing the address of your home away for safekeeping at all. 

“Why did you give her your number? She's just a stupid monkey. Why would you give her the time of day?” Nanako asked with an annoyed look on her face. 

“Come now,” Suguru told her with a gently scolding tone, looking at her with a stern smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice, but that woman is anything but a monkey. In fact,” he looked back in your direction where he could still see your figure slowly getting smaller and smaller as you walked further and further away from the crowd with your son in hand. “She might just become your mother one day.”

He would make sure of it. 

[mggsv]

“Come in, tell me- what’s the issue?”

Imagine Geto, doing his usual job at collecting curses from the people he hated the most, and then you come in.. You were a cute little thing. His eyes didn’t miss such perfect legs for a non sorcerer. Your juicy breast, the ass. He’s never given in to temptation, but he could always watch..observe your body language.

He held a smirk on his lips. From a distance, he’d seem nice, harmless. Suguru Geto was far from that. You didn’t know that, though. With your cute little pout on your plump lips. Rubbing your arm..glancing at him, that smirk- so harmless. However, what Geto could see was far from what you did.

There was a curse on you, drinking away at your arousal. Disgusting. It wasn’t a hassle for Geto to get rid of, a minor thing, but boy who couldn’t have fun every once in a while?

“Ah…a-ah! G-Geto…” He’d fuck you instead. You tempted his after all! Fucking the curse away, he called it. His monster of a cock slamming into your heat, your arousal pooling around the thick head until you’re full and stuffed with his cum. Taking every drop, an angel he’d call you, stroking your hair before pulling it back to make you look up at him best you could. He’d never miss how your eyes would roll back, “Geto” you’d moan! He almost laughs.

His back heavy with red streaks from your nails scratching, they weren’t nearly enough to cause real damage. He’d watch as the little curse would stimulate your breast until his long tongue was there, almost as if it were trying to show Geto how to pleasure you! The curse making you sensitive enough to take such a big cock in such a tight little cunt.

Geto admittedly had fun. Enough fun to leave the curse as is, telling you to meet him again the following week for a follow up.

i may write a bigger part for this because..i’m really liking this idea | divider @/cafekitsune | reblog pls!

[lily-lilibeth]

I can't believe I'm actually playing with monkeys...

[small-sketch]

After the fall

[minimomoe]

Listen Carefully

Cult Leader!Suguru Geto x Reader

Summary: Suguru is going to reward (or maybe punish) you for doing so well today.

Rating : 19+ MDNI

an: exhibitonism, voyeruism, public sex, cult leader suguru, oral (m receiving, toys, degradation... let me know if I missed something

wct. 1.3k

“And you did this all by yourself?” Suguru looked over the report made by his second in command about you. “Good job,” Suguru purred. You stood before him in front of the other followers trying to hide your swelling satisfaction. You were literally vibrating from excitement. Well that from and from other things. 

Suguru patted a spot in front of him and you came to sit on it. You sat there quietly with your hands in your lap, briefly gazing over the curious faces of the other members before turning your attention back to Suguru. 

“You know, when they first brought you in I was prepared to kill you. I have an image to keep up. You know I killed my own parents so no one would question my resolve,” he leaned in to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. Your breathing was heavier as he got closer to your ear. 

“But you have proven yourself very useful to me, despite being human,” he whispered. “What would you like as a reward?” 

Your breath hitched at his question. A reward? You were shamelessly rocking your hips back and forth and Suguru smirked at you. “Is there something bothering you?”

“I… Please take it out,” you breathed. You looked down at the floor but could feel him grinning at you. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“Please take it out,” you said a bit louder. 

“Take what out?” You glanced up at him and he had schooled his expression to be indifferent but his purple eyes had a playful glint to them. You bit your lip and looked to your side where one member was confused as to what you both were talking about. You ears flames from embarrassment and you try to save face. 

“It's private.”

“Is it? Well now I’m very curious, but we can’t leave just yet. Everyone, turn around. And plug your ears too,” he smirked. There was a pause among the crowd of followers but they all shifted slowly, then raised their fingers to close their ears. 

“There, privacy. Now what did you want me to take out?”

“The thing… that’s vibrating,” you mumbled, too shy to say its name. Suguru barked out a laugh and patted your back to get you to stand up. He then pointed to your stomach. You were confused by his non verbal commands, causing him to roll his eyes. 

“Lay over them,” he stated. You sank down and awkwardly stretched over his legs, and Suguru trailed his hands up the back of your thigh. He lifted your robe to expose your ass, then slipped your panties to the side to show the pink bullet vibrator that was making your drip. 

“You kept it in all day. You’re such an obedient pet,” he praised. He took out the toy just enough to raise the intensity and slowly pushed it deeper inside of you while being mindful of the slack left over. You tried to keep your moans quiet, but it proved to be an impossible task while he started to circle your clit with your wetness as lubricant. 

“Make noise, they can’t hear you. Or at least, they’re not supposed to,” he chuckled. He put more pressure on your clit and you let out a startled groan. You could see the people whose backs were nearest to you flinch, but you couldn’t bring your volume down. Suguru rolled and pinched your sensitive bud between his fingers, eliciting a guttural groan from you, just to slap your bare ass when you were enjoying it too much. 

“Do you want to come?” 

You looked back at Suguru and weighed your options. You could say no, and save yourself the embarrassment of what seemed to be a very private moment to a very public audience, but that would leave you unsatisfied. You had no idea when you’d get a chance like this again and you could almost taste your orgasm. 

You meekly nodded your head at him. “Yes.”

“Then work for it. On your knees.”

You slid off his lap and positioned yourself in between his knees and reached to undo his robes before he stopped you. “Where are your manners?”

You looked behind you again but couldn’t see anyones face, but you knew they were listening, they all were. You took a deep breath before continuing.

“Can I please suck you off, sir?” Suguru smiled down at you and let go of your hands. You went through layers of fabric before getting to his half hard dick and palmed it slowly. You rubbed your thumb over the slit, smearing around the precum before giving it soft kitten licks to appease him. You took him in deeper, swallowing the swollen head in your mouth, swirling your tongue all around before hollowing your cheeks and pulling back slightly. 

“Look up at me,” he moaned, and your eyes caught his to give him a wide eye look. He stroked the side of your face so softly you leaned into his open palm, then attempted to take more of his length down your throat. It was no easy feat, and the part of him that wasn’t in your mouth was covered by your right hand, twisting and turning your drool to get him off faster. 

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his head leaned back before looking down at you. He noticed your knees pressed together and figured you might as well get yourself off because he wasn’t going to do it for you. 

You fixed your legs without ever taking your mouth off of him to finger yourself. You were dripping down your thighs but gathered it together to focus on your clit and bobbed your head faster on Suguru. He was almost hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to focus on breathing through your nose. 

“This is all you're ever good for,” he began, resting his hand on the back of your head. “Just a hole for me to put my dick in. You’ll always keep it warm for me, right?” He taunted.

“I don’t even think you deserve it. You are human, after all. All you guys do is create problems for others, for me-ah!” He groaned and pushed your head down all the way to the base until your nose was touching his pubic bone. You squeezed his thigh but that only made him push your head harder. “But I like what you can do. You chose to be a dirty little slut for me.”

His words were cruel but your fingers circled faster around your clit, bringing tears to your eyes. The wet sounds of your moaning on his dick and you touching yourself was loud and evident to everyone else in the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. You slipped to fingers inside your cunt, fucking yourself and working along the vibrator that was nothing more than a tease now. You wanted something more, something bigger, but asking him to fuck you would not yield the outcome you needed. You knew he’d laugh in your face. 

Suguru continued to face fuck you harshly, constantly hitting your uvula until he stilled you at the base once again and started to come down your throat. While gripping one of his thighs harshly as you worked on bringing yourself over the edge with your other hand. You removed yourself off of his dick, breaking the line of spit from the tip from your mouth and gasped loudly as you came, riding your own hand into euphoria. 

Suguru gave you a look of amusement when you came down from your orgasm and you wished the floor would open up and swallow you. He fixed his robe and began to walk out of the room, but threw a glance back at you over his shoulder. 

“Don’t forget to clean up your mess. Everyone else is dismissed.” 

[fear-is-truth]

ﾐ. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰’𝒎 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 ── 𝑪𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓!𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 x 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

⟢ 𝒲arnings — nsfw, mdni || cult leader!geto suguru・manipulation・cōckwarming ・brēeding kink ・english is not my first language ・not proofread

⟢ 𝒲ord count — 1.1k

The heavy scent of incense engulfed the room, curling in lazy wisps around you, mingling with the low murmurs from outside. The temple, usually filled with his loyal followers, felt empty with just the two of you. Even so, his presence was enough to make it feel like the space couldn’t hold much more.

Geto Suguru sat above you, on a slightly raised platform, his figure draped in his robes, like a king on his throne. And you knelt at his feet, where you always were—loyal, devoted, willing to follow wherever he led. His hand rested in your hair, fingers threading through it absentmindedly, as if you were something to be toyed with.

And to him, you were.

“I can feel it, you know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“The doubt.”

Your body stiffened, and his fingers paused in your hair, gently tugging just enough to make you look up at him. His eyes were sharp, black tar pools that saw right through your soul.

“I don’t doubt you, Geto-sama,” you murmured, your throat tight under his scrutiny.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, but there was no humour in it.

“You don’t think I can see it? You forget, I know you better than anyone.” His eyes darkened, and the amusement that danced in them a moment ago disappeared.

“You’ve been thinking too much.”

Your heart raced. He was always like this, picking apart your mind, stripping away your carefully placed walls with nothing more than his words. It was maddening how easily he did it, how he had you so thoroughly wrapped around his finger that one look, one touch, was enough to unravel you.

“I haven’t—”

you started, but his grip tightened in your hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch.

“Shh.” His voice was a soft, commanding hush, and he leaned forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, do you?”

You swallowed hard, the heat of him making it difficult to think straight. His presence was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you hated how much you craved it.

“No,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly, your head tilting as if on instinct, exposing more of your neck to him. He let out a low hum of approval, releasing your hair and sliding his hand to your jaw instead, guiding your gaze up to meet his.

“You’re so obedient,” his thumb traced your lower lip as he smirked.

“So loyal.”

The praise, as twisted as it was, sent a shiver through you. His fingers pressed a little harder against your skin, and before you could fully register it, he was pulling you up, his other hand guiding you with an ease that made your body move without question. You found yourself straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the cushion on either side of him as he leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You belong here, sweet girl.”

he murmured, his voice was calm, patronising as his hand trailed down your back, settling at your waist. The other remained at your chin, holding you in place.

“With me.”

It wasn’t a request. It never was with him. It was a statement of fact, one you couldn’t argue with. You felt his breath against your lips, his gaze locked onto yours, daring you to pull away.

But you didn’t.

His lips brushed yours, a featherlight touch at first, almost chaste. But when you didn’t move—couldn’t move—he kissed you harder, deeper. It was commanding, like everything he did, and you found yourself melting into him despite the knot of fear and thrill coiling in your chest.

His fingers hover over the soft fabric of your kimono, tracing the smooth edge of the okumi before slipping his hand inside, between the layers. The material yielded easily, parting to allow him to play with your tits, palming the swell of your breast. It drives you crazy with want whenever he gets like this—ravenous yet restrained at the same time. An index finger tapped on your sternum, tracing a half circle along the curve of your breast before finding the hard peak of your nipple.

When he pulled back, taking in the sight of your swollen lips, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with amusement as if he found your breathless state amusing. You hated that he always did this to you—always made you feel so small, so easily swayed by his touch.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding further down your waist, his fingers digging into your hip, a gentle yet possessive grip.

“Being close to me. Being mine.”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, but the words caught in your throat.

“Say it,” he ordered softly, his voice a velvet command, his thumb pressing a little harder against your lips.

“I…” You hesitated for only a moment before the words spilled out, too easy.

“I belong to you.”

His smirk widened, his eyes glinting with approval. He tilted your chin up, rewarding you with a deep, open-mouthed kiss, slower this time, savouring it as if to seal your words into reality. You whimpered when the tip of his cock finally pushed into your cunt.

“Good girl,” he purred, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “You know your place.”

“O-ohh.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, cunt already spasming around his length.

Fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, you instinctively rocked your hips forward, trying to get all of him inside you at once. Each delicious, agonising inch stretched you further, filling you with a molten, liquid pleasure that dripped down from the centre of your chest, pooling in your abdomen and spreading to your loins. A breathy moan escaped you when he breached your sweet spot.

“You don’t need to worry about what comes next,” his lips grazed your ear again, his voice so close, so intimate, arousal continued to build inside you. Each deep thrust filled you to the very brim, stretching your plushy walls to the point where the line between pain and pleasure blurred as one. Alighting all the nerves in your body and coaxing the fiery sensation of climax out of your lower belly.

“You just need to follow me. Understand?”

You nodded breathlessly, hands gripping the fabric of his robes tightly to anchor yourself.

“Good,” he pressed one last kiss to your lips, slow and lingering like molasses.

“That’s all you need to do.”

Another deep thrust sent white sparks bursting behind your eyes.

“haaaah—Suguru…” you mewled tearfully, wrapping both arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder.

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he cooed, grinding his hips lazily to meet yours, pushing deeper and deeper. You could feel his cock throb inside you, just beneath your belly.

“I’ll give you what you want. Pump you full of my come and put a baby in you, my love.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sob3rdeath]

mdni, please! +18 content ahead. ♡

cw: breeding, soft!geto, pet names, pregnancy mention (obv).

cult leader!suguru is so sweet and loving to you, he sure does adore you. especially now, with how he's got you in missionary, kissing your tears away. "i love you so much." he mumbles sweetly, his raspy voice low enough for you and only you to hear. "you're my sweet, sweet girl. gonna carry my babies, hm? i'm gonna breed you nice and full, and you're gonna carry my heir."

you can't exactly understand what he's saying because he's reaching all the right spots with his chubby cock, your brain is turned to mush by now, and you have only one thought in mind: suguru, suguru, suguru, suguru. so you don't even process when he says that "what about i make you a mom now? you're gonna be a great one." and he moans. not a grunt like he usually does, but he moans in your ear because you're making him feel so good and you don't even know. :(

"cum-mming.. hmm." it's what falls from your lips as you tighten around him, making a white ring at the base of his cock. and it feels so delicious, it makes him feel his cock twitching inside you — he knows he's close. "that's great baby. you did great for me." he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead with so much love. "i'm gonna come inside, ok? gonna make you a mommy, i need someone to keep leading the cult. what do you say?" and all he needs is the small nod along with your pleas to shoot his load inside you, his potent seed that he knows it is going to take, going to make you pregnant.

dividers by aquazero.

[quack-quack-snacks]

Geto “Cult Leader” Suguru

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Geto Suguru Masterlist

ღ angst ☾ sensitive topics 𓆉 fluff ꕥ action ♡ spicy 𖤓 smut

Lost 𓆉

Slightly Yandere Cult Leader!Geto Suguru x Single Mother!Fem!Reader Summary: After losing your son in the street after bringing him to visit the annual light show that happened in your town, you find him crying in the arms of a handsome - yet strangely unsettling - stranger with two girls standing beside him. Word Count: 2,355

Dope & Diamonds

Cult Leader!Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader Summary: Everyone, Monkey or otherwise, was scared of Geto Suguru upon first meeting him. So why weren’t you? Word Count: -- COMING SOON

GIFS ARE NOT MINE I FOUND THEM ON PINTEREST

[rizzmin]

@satocidal look at him again

⁉️⁉️⁉️

[dolcettamagica]

being geto’s little lamb

[lily-lilibeth]

The sides of Cult leader Geto

Harsh, cruel, bastard and a POS most of the time

Soft, darling, nurturing with his children

He can switch depending who he is interacting with

[bluebeesknees]

Welcome to my little✨Convince-Suguru-Challenge!✨

Help Gojo make some compelling moral arguments!!