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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent.

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school.

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes.

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…”

a beat. you struggle to find the right word.

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go.

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips.

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.”

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted.

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.”

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all.

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters.

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.”

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes.

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut.

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters.

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.”

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground.

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

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almaadst · 6 months ago

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My favorite boys from Jujutsu Kaisen (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Just to let you know I am a big villain fan - they are my precious babies (✿◡‿◡) I'm aware Choso will change the side eventually but he was introduced as a villain that's why he's here And new icons are available in my shop! This time Kenjaku and Toji pack! You can find them HERE. Here's a little sneak peek:

Other: Commission info Mahito sketches JJK fanfiction cover art

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!

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noira-l · 3 months ago

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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.

#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #cult leader geto #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk #geto x y/n #suguru geto x y/n #jjk dark content #jjk suggestive #jjk suguru #jjk curse users #dark themes

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thepersonperson · 5 months ago

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I can't believe it's genuinely canon that Geto was jealous of Sukuna being the one to fill up Gojo.

I know Gojo reassured him but we saw he thought of Toji as the last person who satisfied him. No wonder Geto ended up on a crusade against no cursed energy monkeys.

Geto's insecurity with his place in Gojo's life really was his downfall. (On top of not having access to Karl Marx.) He kind of just assumed that Gojo being in a league of his own after awakening meant they could never be together as The Strongest duo.

That insecurity was so pervasive he initiated their break up by objectifying Gojo for his strength. And he later assumed Gojo stopped loving him too.

But you might be onto something with Geto's jealousy starting with Toji. Though he didn't see Gojo awaken (which was essentially "la petite mort" or the little death), Geto was around to hear Gojo call Toji アンタ (Anta). And that particular usage of Anta was really weird.

(Yeah this is one of those asks that poked my neuroses in just the right way.)

-Content Warning: Brief discussion of teenage sexuality.

-Mangareader(.)to for the raws.

-TCBscans for everything but Vol 0.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Gojo's You Pronouns

I kind of lost my mind over Sukuna's you pronoun usage if you want to know why this kind of thing matters to me. Thankfully, Gojo's you pronoun usage is much more straightforward. Which is why the use of Anta for Toji sticks out a lot.

Gojo usually uses オマエ (Omae—masculine, informal, between peers or to look down on the addressee) for absolutely everyone. Friends, enemies? Doesn't matter, he's using Omae. It's either that, 君 (Kimi—affectionate towards juniors) with his students, or he avoids using you pronouns to be polite. He has only deviated from this pattern with two people—Uraume with てまえ (Temee—hostile and offensive), and Anta with Toji.

Anta is a contraction of あなた (Anata) and both are used in the exact same way. It's an informal you mostly used by people learning Japanese since normal use suggests a familiar and casual relationship with the addressee. That can be rude depending on the context. In the context of love, it's a romantic thing, colloquially called the wife pronoun as its often used by a wife to her husband. The only real difference between Anta and Anata is the indication of class. As a contraction, Anta is seen as more low class/uneducated than Anata.

So what did Gojo mean by his use of Anta with Toji?

Since Anta can indicate the speaker is casual/friendly, uneducated, or flirting, we'll have to infer what Gojo meant with context. Sometimes, it's easier to look at how other characters use this pronoun to get an idea.

For example, Hanami uses Anata for everyone which is why there's nothing flirtatious about them using it. This is just how they talk in general and they aren't singling anyone out in a special way.

A male character who uses Anta for most people in the way Hanami uses Anata is Ike from Fire Emblem. (I'm so sorry this is the only guy I can think of using this as a default you pronoun and he's from a completely different series.)

Ike uses Ore (masculine, informal) as his personal pronoun and he was raised as a mercenary with no formal education, so the Anta in context is more of him being from the lower class and casual. Anta is also less masculine than Omae, so this is also gives Ike that soft edge to his roughness that everyone loves him for. When he uses Anta while speaking to nobles in Path of Radiance Ch 14, they find it extremely offensive and get pissed because they perceive it as him not showing enough respect. (And he does call them out for being dickholes using Anta which makes them even angrier.)

If I recall correctly, (sorry I only really remember Zelgius and Sephiran's pronouns because it subtly confirms them a queer couple), Ike uses Omae (or Temee? The fudging accessible JP transcript went poof.) for the Black Knight and no one else. The Black Knight killed his father and Ike hates him for this. This Omae is not friendly, it's hostile.

I use this example because it shows how for one character these pronouns mean one thing and other characters it the polar opposite. Gojo uses Omae to be friendly, Ike uses Omae to be hostile. Ike uses Anta to be friendly, Gojo uses Anta to...

I don't know.

I don't know why Gojo uses Anta for Toji. It's really fudging odd and he never uses it again or for anyone else. Gojo for Toji uses Anta then Omae then Anta.

First it's confusion over being stabbed. I think in this context it means more of "hey there, buddy" in the way someone might try to talk down an aggressive person by trying to be chummy.

At the time, it probably told Geto something was really wrong because Gojo never uses that pronoun.

The Omae he swaps to is normal Gojo usage. He explains how Toji screwed up with killing him in the way he's been talking at all the assassins that came after Riko.

But internally? Toji remains Anta. This is weird since Gojo usually just sticks to Omae or some kind of nomer when he doesn't know people's names.

Leading up to this internal monologue, Gojo is not angry. He's extremely zen. So much so that he apologizes to Riko for not being upset she was just murdered. This makes me think the Anta isn’t meant to be disparaging.

Anta has always been less harsh than Omae in comparison. It can imply a distance between the speaker and addressee or it can suggest they're very close.

I can't tell if Gojo is trying to express a unique kinship he feels with Toji or if he's putting Toji on a pedestal of strength he idolizes and considers himself separate from. Perhaps it's both and this confusion is intentional. Gojo is a teenager figuring himself out in the most traumatic way possible here. My point is that this use of Anta indicates Gojo feels some kind of way about Toji he doesn't for anyone else.

Toji is very special to Gojo.

Most people are aware of Gojo picking up certain habits and speech patterns because Geto. Rereading JJK after learning about Gojo's history with Geto turns a lot of his silly quirks into things that are really depressing.

Toji is second to Geto in terms of influencing adult Gojo's behavior I think. Not just in the paranoia he experiences of being made vulnerable again, but some of his speaking mannerisms. Gojo asking for last words before he kills someone started with Toji.

He has that same empty look when he does it each time too. This doesn't seem to be like him mourning Toji in the way he mourns Geto by speaking in the way his beloved suggested. It's like he's reliving trauma. And dear lord did Toji traumatize Gojo. The kind of terror in the faces teenage Gojo makes while being hunted and killed are never made again.

But despite this, Gojo as an adult seems to look back on this awful experience fondly sometimes. When Sukuna starts to make him think he's about to lose, Gojo smiles as he recalls this feeling.

Satisfaction? Being killed by this guy was satisfying? I suppose it makes sense, this temporary death did awaken him to immense power that made him feel amazing. In that sense, Toji was Gojo's greatest teacher. And as a teacher, Gojo molds a philosophy from that experience and tries to imbue it on his students in a less traumatic fashion. (I say tries because this still killed Yuji by accident and caused a lot of unneeded stress for the second years in Vol 0.)

As you can see here, Gojo thinks this way because he did die alone despite having strong allies. And because his death made him stronger, he thinks growth can be triggered in a similar fashion. Geto calls him out on how fudged up this “tough love” is.

Gray morally aside, these beliefs and actions are because of Toji. A lot of what Gojo is as an adult is one giant unhealthy coping mechanism for Toji, fondness included.

When Nanami calls Gojo a Jujutsu Pervert he isn't wrong. Gojo is a freak that gets off to fighting in part due to Toji. It's like this horrible little ball of fear, denial, and horny with him. Thinking about Toji being the last person who satisfied him in that way over Geto isn't out of character. The types of blissed out faces he made during that fight do pop up in the Sukuna fight.

We also have to acknowledge that Toji is at the got dang afterlife airport with everyone else. For some reason, despite all the pain he inflicted, Gojo admires him on a similar level to the people who didn't want him dead.

Toji is a lot of Gojo's firsts. His first fear, his first death, his first awakening, and most importantly his first exposure to revolution. Toji is the first person Gojo met that escaped the bindings of Jujutsu Society and obtained freedom. He defied the Zenins and started a life outside of them. His pride and grief brought him back, but for a few years he was the impossible success story.

Though Geto heavily influenced Gojo’s morality, Toji was the basis for Gojo’s revolutionary ideas. It shows in how he trains his students and values the strength of non-sorcerers. He correctly identifies that Toji only wound up this way because of Jujutsu Society, mainly the higher ups, and vows to do something about it.

Is this to prevent another Toji because of fear? Is this how Gojo honors his memory too? Both, probably. Toji basically asked Gojo to be the godfather to Megumi, his son named Blessing, and prevent him from being raised a Zenin. In other words, he gave Gojo his blessing to do better than him and break that awful generational cycle. Gojo has taken that very seriously.

Megumi knows next to nothing about the Zenins until he's made the head after Naobito dies and Maki massacres them. The fact that Megumi being made the head ultimately triggered Maki's massacre of the Zenin Clan is like Toji getting exactly what he wanted from beyond the grave. A mini revolution made possible with Gojo laying the groundwork by providing a space where Maki can exist without hate.

Geto's Jealousy

As Geto was spiralling, he probably thought back on Gojo’s use of Anta with Toji and got a little jealous. After all, Toji was the reason Gojo grew so much as a sorcerer instead of him.

Can you imagine? The love of your life keeps telling you that together you're The Strongest and that's why he's with you. But he goes off with some dude after calling him something he's never called you and comes back a god. He grew more in those few minutes with this rando than the years he spent with you combined. Inadequate wouldn't even scratch the surface of that feeling.

It was always a one-sided admiration—Toji was a bum who leeched off women as you would expect any straight dude would coming from an immensely misogynistic household. He killed children for money and had beef with an 8 year old after looking at him once. But Geto still might've been envious that a non-sorcerer did more for Gojo’s growth than any sorcerer.

Geto’s Coping

The aftermath of Toji put a strain on their relationship in more ways than one. First and foremost, it made Gojo The Strongest. As I said earlier, this caused Geto to become insecure with his place in Gojo’s life. But what I didn’t mention is that the higher ups exploiting this newfound strength is why this never got addressed until it was way too late.

As shown here Geto’s condition gets worse because not only is he mentally isolated from Gojo, but physically as well. A horrible little detail—changes in weight can be very gradual. If you're with someone all the time, you'll likely never notice it. Gojo was kept separate from Geto for so long that this difference was noticeable.

They fall out of sync because Jujutsu Society has decided that their labor is more valuable apart. The problem here exploitation. Toji made it extremely clear to both Gojo and Geto that was the problem. Geto unfortunately came to the wrong conclusion on how to deal with it.

Tags from @nyan-bynary on this post sum up my feelings on this nicely.

#OK OK I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT HOW GETO GOT RADICALIZED BASICALLY INTO FASCISM BC HE ENDED UP BLAMING THE WRONG CLASS FOR THEIR OPPRESSION #LIKE THIS IS SO VERY MUCH THE CASE WITH LIKE RANDO WHITE LIBERTARIANS AND SHIT IRL TOO LIKE THEY NOTICE SHIT SUCKS #BUT THEY END UP BLAMING THE EVEN MORE OPPRESSED PEOPLE INSTEAD OF TAKING THAT ANGER UPWARDS TOWARDS THE ACTUAL PPL DESTROYING EVERYTHING

#like geto saw a man who was so fucking abused and treated like shit by his clan that he basically ran away and started a new life #where he resents the people who were oppressing him but he still had to work for similar people to make ends meet #and in doing so was made a pawn for the internal power struggles of the higher ups #which hurt the other people lower in the hierarchy as well including gojo and geto #but instead of seeing the hand that guided everything here he blamed the toy in the hand instead #devoting himself to destroy every single toy which unknowingly included himself and the sorcerers he wanted to protect so badly as well

#like in his efforts to gather sorcerers he ended up doing a better more inclusive job of gathering sorceres from EVERYWHERE he could reach #he had the true potential to make real grassroot connections with fellow oppressed people but he was misguided on who the target should be #like it's ironic that the only black sorcerer that we see is in the group of the guy that calls non sorceres 'monkeys' #because it says something about him that his problem actually wasn't racism (against non-sorcerers) #it was the high risk terrible lifestyle forced upon every sorcerer in the name of non-sorcerers #WHO DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU GUYS EXIST AND ARE BEING EXPLOITED LIKE THIS IN THEIR NAME IN THE FIRST PLACE MAYBE TRY TO FIX THAT AT SOME POINT???

#it's all so sad bc the moment he chose the wrong people to blame his fate was sealed and it sucks bc he could've done real good things #gojo was the closest to doing anything remotely revolutionary but he went the too peaceful route and it cost him everything #he didn't organize or protest with enough destruction or maybe he thought he couldn't until it became a last resort

#like I find it funny that despite everything gojo wanted to do bc his form of resistance was so lax he ended up alienating hakari and kirara #and the elders. the divide and conquerers that they were used it to expel them from the school #just ahhhhhhhhh so many thoughts I wish they could've done more I wish I wish I wish

In that post, I joked that Karl Marx could’ve saved Geto, but that wasn’t really a joke. Trying to address exploitation without the theoretical framework to be productive about it is like swimming against an ocean riptide at night. You can recognize that you’re drowning, but not knowing where the shore is or that you need to swim at an angle instead of directly against the current dooms you.

The really sad thing is that Geto never realized that non-sorcerers were exploited just like him. Nanami worked directly alongside them and realized their exploitation was one in the same.

He realized that this exploitation was a systemic issue. Gojo realized that those in power were responsible for enforcing it. Both of them lacked the drive to be aggressive about that in the way Geto was. Together, the 3 of them really could’ve unionized to obtain the work-life balance they desperately needed.

But that was never going to happen. The higher ups isolated them until their communication skills and therefore relationships deteriorated alongside their mental states. (Notice how even outside of Jujustu Nanami has no friends. He's just as alone as those two.)

Geto's Love

I don’t think Geto ever learned how to love properly after Toji in a very similar vein to Gojo. Though he more outwardly shows affection to his family, there’s this sense of distance he has between them as a cult leader. His children call him Master and do not take his last name. He’s worshiped as a figurehead and for his beauty. And no one really understands him in the way Gojo used to.

And it must also be noted that the anguish from his family and daughters at his possession did not cause his body to stir. Only Gojo calling his name did.

It's not that Geto doesn't love his family, he just loves Gojo more despite having spent less time with him. (10 years with his family vs 3 years with Gojo.) Even Geto himself says that his family isn’t enough for him to be truly happy.

A world where sorcerers are not exploited is what he thinks will fix this. He wants this for himself, his family, and Gojo. Especially Gojo.

Their breakup was caused by Gojo being exploited more than anyone else. Geto has always objected to that. A world of only sorcerers hypothetically gets rid of the labor exploitation Geto hates for every sorcerer. And it also creates a world where Gojo doesn't need to be The Strongest. It's a world where instead of being overworked, Gojo will have all the time in the world for Geto.

This love Geto holds for Gojo underlies his actions. Him setting this ridiculous plan into motion on December 24th is a grandiose romantic gesture. You can feel the resentment and the longing. He tried to fill the Gojo hole in his heart with a new family and hatred only to fail.

Gojo reciprocated. He always did. But neither of them realized the love was mutual until both of them were dead because work came first.

So yeah anon, Geto was jealous. Both Toji and Sukuna got to know Gojo in ways he couldn’t because being an enemy of Gojo ironically gives them more direct attention from him since that’s a part of work.

Jujustu Society vs Queerness

Even if Gojo and Geto realized their love before everything went to hell, I'm not sure if they would've acted on it due to societal stigma.

Like @nyan-bynary mentioned, Kiara's transness is something the higher ups no doubt rejected. The type of conservatism modern Japan is under does not embrace the open queerness of the past that was especially prevalent during the Heian Era, you know the Jujutsu Golden Age. In a reflection of these politics, the Zenins embody the type of sexual hierarchy wanted by the elders—men run everything and women have children. Even though Hakari and Kiara are a straight couple, they're unable to have children together which is rebellion in of itself. Why Gojo didn't do more for them is kind of baffling.

To be fair, Gojo kind of sucks at sticking up against injustices like this. Hakari and Kiara aren't the only failed in this way. When Geto is verbally discriminatory towards Maki, Gojo doesn't refute his beliefs, Yuta does.

This is honestly, pretty fudged up. Gojo just lets Geto be horrible and offers a weak "don't do that" as a response instead of arguing for Maki's personhood. And we know for a fact he is strong enough to do something and be taken seriously. After all, he did threaten the elders to protect Yuta's life. He didn't stop Geto until he became a large-scale physical threat. For some reason, that's the only type of discrimination Gojo will act on—violent acts that will result in death.

I think this is because Geto told him he needed a really good reason to kill other humans before he snapped. It took a lot of convincing for Gojo to slaughter the higher ups as the result of this. His inaction here could also stem from Gojo being so used to dehumanization that he hardly recognizes it as a problem. But Gojo did force Nanami to address Yuji as a human child instead of Sukuna's Vessel later, so perhaps he reflected on this exchange and tried to do better. (Despite allowing everyone else from Kyoto to be weird about Yuji.)

Regardless, it's this passive mentality when it comes to non-violent discrimination that makes me think Gojo wouldn't have acted on his feelings for Geto.

There's probably a lot of pressure on Gojo to have progeny of some kind (aka be straight and have babies). I do find it a bit odd we've seen nothing of his Clan to the point that Megumi also knows nothing about it. (Though this was probably to spare him the politics drama for the enjoyment of his youth.) They did spoil Gojo rotten, but that doesn't mean backwards societal expectations weren't thrust on him from birth. He was raised to be a living weapon you know. Suppression of his own queerness was likely a part of that education.

And though Gojo is pretty rebellious when it comes to challenging the status quo, like antagonizing those older than him and letting those younger than him speak freely around him, he still has some toxic ideas from his youth he hasn't let go of. He prioritizes his strength over bonds and allows himself to be exploited while trying to make sure his students don't wind up like him...by having them prioritize strength through pushing their limits.

In other words, Gojo would likely just repress his feelings for Geto if it meant obtaining his goals. A queer relationship would be used against him by the higher ups since it rebels against the expectations of Jujustu Society in a way he hasn't pushed hard against. (I'm so sorry Hakari and Kiara.)

With that being said, it's not all that surprising that a lot of the curse users are openly queer. They've freed themselves of exploitation and expectations. Their genders and sexualities are theirs to control. None of them are shy about it. Larue openly loves Geto, Sukuna will kill you for not respecting his disinterest in romance and sex, Uraume will kill you for not respecting that, Kashimo will hit on a man as he's being killed by him, Kenjaku is Kenjaku.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Gojo is at his horniest when he's fighting other men. It's like the one space where he's allowed to engage that side of himself without fear of repercussion because at the end of the day, one of them is going to be dead anyways. (His flirting with Nanami when they're alone together not included.) Sometimes queer people want their love with violence because it’s the only way they can have their sexuality without guilt. That punishment absolves the sin.

Jujutsu Society as it stands is not compatible with queerness. Gojo has a really fudged up way of expressing his attraction to men as the result of this. And if you ask me, I think Toji is the one who really got his wires crossed.

#cactus yaps #Yeah this analysis goes all over the place but I will always tie it back to socialism.#I annotated Posadas to write a fic one time I cannot be stopped.#Labor exploitation and queer struggles go hand in hand.#The queerness of JJK enhances the discussion on labor. I think it's a disservice to keep them separate.#Relationships deteriorate under poor working conditions that alienate laborers from their fellow man.#And since queer relationships are an antithesis to the model that generates the most profit for the capitalist they must be crushed.#JJK is a story about queer men being driven insane by Jujustu Society which is an allegory for labor exploitation I swear to fudge.#I apologize to tumblr user nyan-bynary for coming at you like this.#Can you tell I used to fight people on Twitter over Fire Emblem?#I miss it. Someone come try to deny Ike is canonically gay again.#That particular argument got IkeSoren put in a gay museum. Very proud of that still.#satosugu #geto suguru #fushiguro toji #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #asks

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wieqo · 8 months ago

Text

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀๑⠀ ⠀🈺⠀ ⠀𝆹 ॱ

sugrwj⠀ ⠀ getoulc

sugrtous⠀ ⠀getourt

gticsugr⠀ ⠀ sugruzt

#geto suguru #anime users #anime messy users #geto messy users #geto suguru users #jjk users #jjk messy users #jjk short users #jjk geto users #characters users #random short users #messy short users

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abiding-artist · 1 year ago

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Ughhh this show is so cool with really interesting character designs!

I really went out of my comfort zone making this piece and I’m so happy I did! Learned new techniques and how to do certain things to give variety! I also really enjoy drawing hair.

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #suguru geto #mahito #kenjaku #jogo #hanami #curse user #art #anime #artist of tumblr #my art

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sugaruapologist · 9 months ago

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im jus thinking about suguru getting gray hairs...

like you're aging together, reaching middle aged years and it doesn't hardly show in his face. but you regularly brush his hair for him, and its a bonding time for you two, it helps you two relax at the end of the day. you notice the streams of gray throughout his long hair, and its so beautiful.

tldr; salt and pepper haired suguru makes my heart flutter

#user://suguru #jupi talks #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #program://jjk_drabbles

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honeytrap26 · 11 months ago

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Quickie

Suguru Geto x Reader

summary: Geto can’t help but stare at you wearing you tight skirt. cw: !!MDNI!!, fem!reader, dirty talk, fingering, blowjob, semi-public?? aunote: first time writing smut, hope it was okay. Enjoy and happy reading! 🐼🖤 Okay,this damn (sotry os) 💀🤣 cursed. First I deleted it, then I didn't post the full story. I'm a mess. Blame it on Kenjaku. wc:3k+ (proofread but if there are any major mistakes, please let me know,Kenjaku did it.) summary: Geto can’t help but stare at you wearing you tight skirt. cw: !!MDNI!!, fem!reader, dirty talk, fingering, blowjob, semi-public?? aunote: first time writing smut, hope it was okay. Enjoy and happy reading! 🐼🖤 Okay,this damn (sotry os) 💀🤣 cursed. First I deleted it, then I didn't post the full story. I'm a mess. Blame it on Kenjaku. wc:3k+ (proofread but if there are any major mistakes, please let me know,Kenjaku did it.)

“Sorry darling.” Suguru hurriedly walks into the kitchen. “I forgot that the football game was tonight, I've been so busy with work. Gojo texted me on my way home.” he places his briefcase on the couch. He loosens his tie and takes it off, throwing it on top of his briefcase.

“Sorry darling.” He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead, his hand is on the small of your back.

“It’s okay hun.” you smile, grabbing the dip out of the oven, setting it on the kitchen counter and grab a bag of chips out of the pantry.

He takes a step back to look at you, his mouth is agape seeing what you're wearing, you were wearing a beige cut-out mock neck t-shirt. The shirt hugged your perky breasts perfectly, just a kiss of your cleavage peeking through the cut out. His eyes scanned down your body, you had on a form fitting black leather skirt with a slit.

He places his hands on your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze, “You look so sexy today.” he kisses your cheek, he can smell your perfume.

“Thank you, I was supposed to go to a meeting today but they canceled and moved it to next week.” you say, you lean down to place a plate into the dishwasher your ass pushes against Geto’s growing erection. His hands grip your waist for a split second, he releases it as you stand up again.

“Darling,” his voice is low and seductive in your ear. He pulls you in closer. “You look so sexy.”

You chuckle, smiling to yourself. He turns you around so you’re now looking at him. Your arms wrap around his neck, you lean up to kiss his lips a few times there’s a brief pause before his lips crash onto your again, he picks you up placing you on the countertop. Your hands make their way to his shirt unbuttoning it and untucking it from his slacks. You run your hands up and down his body.

“I wanna fuck you right now. Bend you over the counter and fuck you from behind.” he says in between kisses.

Your make-out session gets hotter and heavier, your tongues exploring each other's mouths. His hands make their way up to your breasts and he firmly grabs them eliciting a moan from you.

“Sugu-” he pulls your shirt and bra down revealing your boobs, he leans down, sucking a nipple while rolling the other one in between his fingers.

“Sugu..please.” your head is tilted back as you arch your back from the pleasure. “I need you.” you whine.

“Come here baby.” he smirks, he begins to unbuckle his belt when the doorbell rings followed by a couple of knocks. Getos hands cup your slit, realizing that you’re just wearing a lace thong. He growls, his hand cupping your face more aggressively now, he kisses you again biting your lower lip, “I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight baby.” his kisses trail down to your neck to your breasts, he gives them one more kiss before he pulls away.

The doorbell rings again. Geto grunts, you can hear the displeasure in his voice. He helps you get off the table and you two fix your clothes, you run to the bathroom to touch up on your makeup, more like wipe away the red stains from your lipstick, that's smeared all over your breasts and face.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”, he greets Gojo and the gang.

They walk in with alcohol and food. Haibara asks where you want to put the dish he and his girlfriend made. She gives you a hug and you girls talk briefly about how your days went.

“There’s my best friend!” Gojo walks up to you with open arms, he gives you a big bear hug, shaking you from side to side before he lets you go.

“Hey Satoru.” you giggle, fixing your hair.

“I want you to meet my girlfriend.” He pulls a beautiful tall girl to his side. She’s wearing a crop top with a deep v cut that shows off her well-endowed breasts. She has on a tiny mini skirt, that you could swear if she bent over, you could see her entire ass.

“Oh, nice.” you and Suguru make eye contact from across the room. He’s talking to Ino but he looks over and gives you a, be nice look.

Satoru was a beautiful man and he knew it, but he wasn’t the best at picking girls. Their intentions were never good, one of them dated Satoru just to get to Suguru. This broke his heart and you were there consoling him for a week while Suguru was gone for a work trip. That became a routine for you and Satoru, he would come over talking about how he met this beautiful girl and they are going to get married just for him in that same week to come over and cry about how she left him for someone richer, older, better. That is how you replaced Suguru and became Satoru’s best friend.

“I’m so happy for you both!” you, hug his girlfriend “How long have you been dating?” you look at them both.

“It's been a month; we’re having our one-month anniversary next week.” She beams excitedly, and kisses Gojo, you see their tongues entwining, Gojo smacks her ass, a whine escapes from her lips. He whispers “ meet me in the bathroom”

“O-oh okay...That’s..great.” your lips purse together and you nod slowly, looking anywhere but at them.

Suguru clears his throat, seeing how uncomfortable you are. He walks over and nudges you towards Haibara and his girlfriend who are settling in.

“How about you show Haibara and his lady around? They haven’t been here since we moved in.” he leans down to kiss your cheek.

You take Haibara and his girlfriend around the house showing them the house. The doorbell rings and it's Nanami, he was working overtime. You all greet him and he apologizes for being late, he holds up a bag of all of your favorite snacks.

“Nice! We got a touchdown!” Gojo cheered, his girl sitting on his lap.

“Yes!” Haibara yells, giving Nanami a high-five.

“We’re gonna win, I can feel it.” Haibara said excitedly.

“Don’t think so.” Suguru says from the kitchen, throwing a rag over his shoulder. “They always lose. They’ll fumble the ball.”

You and Geto are in the kitchen cleaning up some dishes from dinner, you bend down to grab some plates from the dishwasher,

“You're gonna get it later tonight if you continue to bend over like that in front of me.” he whispers in your ear, his hand slips underneath your skirt then he reaches above you to put a baking dish away on the top shelf.

“No, you won’t. You’ll be too tired, like you always are.” you gently push him away and continue putting the dishes away.

“Let’s make a bet.” he folds the rest of the dish rags, holding the stack out to you.

“Okay.” you nod and grab the stack putting them in a drawer next to the sink.

Suguru walks behind you slightly pushing you against the kitchen sink, his mouth hovering over your neck.

“If the team wins tonight, you get to do whatever you want to me.” he kisses your neck, he takes your hand and places it on his semi hard erection.

You drop the towel, feeling his erection, you bend over to pick up and feel a hand cup your bare ass giving it a squeeze, you let out a small yelp and turn around to see Suguru smirking.

“Everything okay?” Haibara’s girlfriend asks, she walks over to throw away her plate in the trash.

“She just dropped a towel. You know how clumsy she is.” he says, his hand still on your bare ass, you can feel his finger toying with your slit, he spreads your lips and feels how wet you are. You’re glad that the countertop covers enough of your bodies that she doesn’t see what’s going on.

His fingers find your clit, circling around it. He stares at you with a big smile on his face, you bite your lip trying to not make a sound, if the TV wasn’t on so loud he bets that they could probably hear how wet you are for him.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” she says, she leans against the counter, finishing her drink.

“N-no, everything's d-done.” you stutter out, his fingers still rubbing circles around your clit.

“Are you sure? I feel bad, we’re always at your place for game nights.” she says, she walks back to the trash to throw her empty can away.

“It’s not a problem at all, we don't mind, we love having friends over. Don’t we, darling.” Geto smiles at you, two of his fingers slip into your hole, making you gasp and moan softly.

“Mhmm” you say but it was more of a moan.

He sees her walk over to the trash can again, his motions get faster as his fingers pump into you faster. You moan a little louder now not expecting him to do that, luckily the team scored a touchdown so your moan was drowned out by the boys screaming. You grab his arm to make him stop but he continues to finger you. His eyes flicker from you to her and suddenly he pulls out his fingers from under your skirt. You're halfway slumped over the counter trying to steady your breathing.

“You okay wifey? Your face is all flushed.” she laughs, “are you a little tipsy? I’m not going to lie, I may be just a teeny tiny bit drunk.” she giggles and grabs another can from the refrigerator.

“I’m fine, I-” you look up at Geto, your eyes widen as you see him lick his two fingers, his eyes darken as he sees the blush appear on your face.

“I think she’s just a little hot. Why don’t you go change darling?” he lets out an amused huff.

“Yeah you should! You look so hot by the way. If I were a guy I would totally wanna do you.” she chortles. “You better take good care of her.” she waves a finger at Geto and walks back to the living room, plopping a seat next to Haibara.

“Oh I’ll make sure to take real good care of her.” he huffed a laugh, his hand making its way back to your ass, you can feel him lift the edge of your skirt.

“You’re right, I should go change, I’ll be right back.” you say, rushing out of the kitchen and going upstairs.

“It’s half time now. Hurry everyone take a shit now, we can’t miss it. Our team is gonna win!” Gojo gets up and jogs to the bathroom.

“Mind if I use the one upstairs?” Haibara asks Geto.

“No problem, I’ll show ya.” Geto leads Haibara upstairs, “Perfect” he thinks to himself.

You start to take off your jewelry, putting them back in your jewelry box when you hear the door to the master bedroom open and close. You hear the rustling of clothes.

“Hey girl, I have some sweats here for you.” you say,

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be needing those.” Geto walks in shirtless, his one hand skillfully unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. He lets them drop to the floor. His erection is forming a tent in his briefs.

“We can’t,” you step back but Geto strides over to you caging your body against the counter. You feel his erection pressing into you.

“I wanna fuck you so bad” his hand slips underneath your shirt.

“But they'll hear us and they’ll know if we’re gone for too long.” you protest, you feel his hand unclasp your bra freeing your breasts, he immediately begins to massaging them through your shirt. “Just a quickie. Please baby, I won’t be able to focus on the game with a hard on.” he kisses your forehead.

“Fine” you say, Geto grins as he bends you over the bathroom counter. “But you better not rip-” you're cut off by the sound of Geto ripping your leather skirt. “Seriously! I just bought a new one.” you moan out the last word.

He’s on his knees, his hands slide up the back of your calves, up to your thighs, he gives your ass a hard smack, earning a pleasurable moan from you. His thumbs grip your cheeks spreading them apart before his tongue dives into your wet mound.

“Mmm Sugu.” you push back against his face, he pulls his face away.

You whine out, “More”

“What do you want more darling.” He places small kisses on your cheeks.

“More of you,” you whine, your head resting on the counter.

“More of this.” he slaps your ass before he slips his fingers in your slit. “Or more of this.” he grabs your cheeks spreading them again before he dices back in, his tongue flutters against your clit making you sway your hips left and right, you feel him lick every inch of your wetness. You can’t say anything, you just nod your head, you could feel the waves of pleasure flowing through your body, you couldn’t hold back anymore, you come all over his face and mouth.

“That’s a good girl.” he says, getting up and wiping his face that is covered in your juice. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing it, his other hand pulls down his briefs and strokes his cock a few times, slapping it on your ass before he says “Suck.”

You get on your knees, you take his cock in your hand and stroke it, your thumb circles around the tip, making him groan. You lick from the base of the shaft to the tip, your tongue twirls around his sensitive spot making his hips twitch.

“Fuck baby. That feels so good.” he groans, his mouth is agape and his eyes are closed.

Your head bobs as you continue to suck his big hard cock. He grabs your hair pulling it into a loose ponytail before he starts to thrust into your face. Your moans are garbled by his big cock, drool dripping down your chin.

There’s a small knock before the bedroom door opens, without missing a beat Geto’s arms swings over and closes the bathroom door, resulting in a slam.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Were you changing?” It was Haibara's girlfriend.

“Not a problem at all.” Geto clenches his teeth as he continues to fuck your face.

“So sorry, I came in to grab some sweats if that’s alright.” her voice is closer to the bathroom door now.

“T-that’s fine.” he grunts out the last word, he looks down, seeing you massage your boobs, pinching and pulling your nipples, your shirt pulled down. He throws his back in pleasure, he can feel his own pleasure nearing. “You naughty girl, playing with your tits just the way I like it."

“Oh yeah, where did my wifey go?” she asks, you hear the sound of the drawers opening and closing.

Geto grumbles a fuck off under his breath, “She’s in here but her mouth is full at the moment.” Getos eyes roll back as he feels your tongue hit that sensitive spot again. His hips twitch, his thrust becomes messy, he pulls out of your mouth before he cums, he slaps your face with his cock a couple of times. Geto grabs your arm and pushes your body against the bathroom door, making a thud.

He whispers in your ear, “Talk to her.” you shake your head in protest but he slaps your ass, the sound echoes through the bathroom.

“Sounds like you’re also a little drunk, Geto.” she giggles, “Can you ask my wifey where her sweats are, I think she rearranged her clothes. I can’t find them” you can hear the pout in her voice.

“Where did you put your sweats, wifey?” Geto says with a devilish smile on his face, he leans down whispering in your ear. “You better say something if you don’t want your friend to find out that you’re getting fucked like a dirty fucking slut in the bathroom.” his cock slides in and out of you slowly,

“T-there at the bottom of the- oh fuck” you gasp when you feel him snap his hips, his cock hitting your cervix, your legs automatically close together making your cunt grip tighter around his cock, his lips are pressed against your neck as he breathes heavily.

“You good wifey?” she calls out,

“Yep, I’m fine just hit my finger on the counter.” you place your hand on the door to steady yourself, he pulls out, you can hear him panting, he was close to cumming.

“Where was it again-Oh just kidding I found it! I’ll see you downstairs.” She says, you can hear her feet shuffle towards the door. “Almost forgot. Wifey, can I get some makeup wipes? I have a feeling we’re gonna be spendin the night here. I’m drunk and I think Haibara is too.” she giggles to herself.

Geto shuffles through the drawer and grabs you the pack of makeup wipes, you fix your shirt, covering your boobs you crack the door open, your upper body and head peeking through.

“Here ya go babe.” you smile at her,

“Thanks babe, but I just need one,” she says.

“It’s fine, maybe Torus girl will need some too.” you nudge the wipe at her.

“Speaking of which, what do you think about her?” she leans in closer to you.

You can hear Geto sigh in frustration behind you. You look back at him, you bite your lips wiggling your ass before looking back at her.

“I think she’s okay, guess we’ll see how…ummm.” you swallow and take a deep breath. Geto slides back into you again bottoming out, his hands gripping your waist hard.

“She’s okay, guess we’ll have to see how long they can last.” you say, your boobs bounce with each thrust, you were glad that she was drunk enough to not pick up on the hints that you were being fucked by Geto while having a conversation with her. You string along a couple of mhmm’s and I know before you cut her off.

“Hey wifey, I’ll talk to you some more downstairs, I need to help Sugu take care of some stuff. I’ll be right down. Okay?” you smile and shut the door after watching her leave.

“You were so close to coming baby.” he chortled.

You grab Geto’s hips pulling him in, signaling that you want more of him. He smiles to himself and shakes his head. He pulls your hair into a ponytail like before and begins thrusting into you faster now, you can clearly hear the sounds of your wet skin slapping against each other. He releases your hair, his hands pull down your shirt, cupping your breasts feeling the way they bounce with each of his thrusts. Your eyes roll back, your mouth is wide open now, your fingers are rubbing your clit.

“I’m c-close.” you whisper to Geto, he grunts, his hand replaces yours as he rubs your clit feeling your went cunt tighten around his cock.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming.” he growls.

Both of you hit your climax, your bodies writhe with ecstasy and pure pleasure. You feel his cock twitching inside of you as he pumps his load deep into you. Your cunt tightens around him, he can feel it pulsing around his cock.

His face is buried in your hair, you both take a moment to gather yourselves before he turns you around and kisses you passionately.

“I love you.” he kisses your lips again.

“I love you too.” you kiss him back.

Extra Trimmings!!

You and Geto make your way back downstairs, you insist that he goes first so it’s not suspicious but he says that you were gone for twenty minutes and they already knew what that meant.

“Hey wifey! I missed you!” Haibara’s girlfriend sees you, she moves away from Haibara and cuddles up with you. You laugh at his reaction to his girlfriend moving away from him.

“Took ya long enough.” Gojo opens a bottle of beer and hands it over to Geto before opening himself one.

“Was takin care of some business.” Geto shrugs and drinks his beer.

“Right.” Gojo shakes his head.

“Oh, come on, you did too. I just lasted longer.” Geto chuckles.

“Careful, I’m with her most days.” Gojo smirks as he takes a bite of his pizza. “Let’s fuckin go!! We won!!” Gojo jumps up and cheers, he runs to you and picks you up, twirling you around. “Told you my team was gonna win, munchkin.”

“Toru stop! What the heck are you doing?!” you smack his shoulder playfully.

Geto sits there in disbelief.

“Fuck no, not nicknames.”

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