#geto threads.

[gravesung]

he's scooping up @koseigu and throwing her over his shoulder. get fireman-carried around campus, shosho.

[gravesung-moving]

@hvnlygojo liked x for a starter.

❝ AHH... I CAN'T BELIEVE i lost. ❞ it was a dumb bet, but not unusual for them — who can take down more curses in a minute — and really, he's lying. suguru can easily believe he lost. as much as the two boys like to tout that they are the strongest together, he isn't any more deluded than anyone else. suguru shoves his hands in his pockets and heaves a long sigh, though the smile on his face betrays how little he actually laments the situation.

how could he? the summer sunset paints a warm orange glow over the grounds, the night is young, and he walks beside his best friend. ❝ alright, i'm a man of my word. one favor, as promised. cashing in now or later, satoru? ❞

[gravesung]

@malient // continued from here.

IT WAS A LOSING BATTLE from the start. suguru bought enough time for anyone in the vicinity to evacuate, and that was just about all he could do in the face of something — someone — so great and terrible he could only be compared to a natural disaster.

satoru is dead. what happens to suguru, this body and its wretched inhabitant, is meaningless now. he is giving the kids enough time to regroup, and with that, he has fulfilled the only purpose he had left. it's why the defeat in his eyes, as they flick up to meet the monster's face, is tinged with relief.

his face twists into a pained grimace as ryomen sukuna grips the hair at the base of his skull and dangles him like a novelty windchime, but all that escapes his throat is a wheeze. pathetic. the king of curses hardly has a scratch on him; in contrast, suguru's bones feel like they have been crushed under the wheels of a truck ( and, really, they may as well have been. ) his tongue works beneath the two claws that hold it down, jaw forced open, the impossibly-dark expanse of his throat bared to light. he doesn't answer. he isn't meant to. instead, his fingernails scrape at the black-ringed flesh of sukuna's wrist; they are jagged and torn, but the skin of the wrist is delicate. perhaps he'll get lucky, slash an artery. leave a mark before he dies.

[gravesung]

this is how i see you.

❝ how rude. then again, i suppose i shouldn't expect better from you... ❞

unprompted // @malient

[gravesung]

@michelangelowept.

❝ DON'T YOU have somewhere to be, satoru? ❞ he hates how his voice sounds. low and hoarse. bitter and murky. not that he expects satoru to notice, anyway. how funny; all of that sight leaves you so blind. whatever.

[gravesung]

❝ have you heard the term vocal texture? there's merit to arranging duets wherein the artists contrast in that way. yours is quite unique — i would love to produce for you sometime. ❞

[gravesung]

@michelangelowept // satoru. geto one-liners.

SUGURU KNOWS WHO'S AT THE DOOR EVEN BEFORE he hears the footsteps. satoru's cursed energy seeps through the seams of the windows, the drafty space underneath the doorframe, the vent in his bedroom wall that never quite stops letting in cold air.

he can't decide if knowing makes it better or worse.

at the very least, it allows him to pull himself together before he faces the — before he faces his — before he faces satoru, or rather, the divinity that molted from satoru's skin and left him behind.

❝ satoru! what a surprise. ❞

fake. foxlike. his eyes are still dark; he still smells of sweet citrus, though it has been cut through with the corruptive, heady scent of incense.

❝ you aren't here to kill me already, are you? how unfortunate... ❞

[gravesung]

❝ cry for me. i want to see it. ❞ / suguru ~

REBELLION MEETS THE DESIRE IN SUGURU'S eyes like a struck match as one of sukuna's cocks bottoms out in the back of his throat. it is perhaps the kind of rebellion that would satisfy something someone like ryomen sukuna, given that it happens at exactly the same time as suguru's body obeys the command. clawed fingers hold his head in place as he begins to thrash, involuntary fish-out-of-water writhing from cut-off airflow. suguru constricts around him with every painfully deep thrust, his throat squeezing the shaft hard, tears spilling down his cheeks and beading in his lashes at the feeling of an intrusion far bigger than what he is used to.

this would not be an honorable way to die. but then, suguru geto is not an honorable man. perhaps this is the kindest way he could have gone out: suffocating on the king of curses' cock. satoru might have laughed.

it only takes a few more moments of choking for the fire to bleed from his expression, replaced by a pathetic, pleading look. how far he has fallen. he had his own throne, once. now, when he is finally allowed to breathe after darkness crept into the corners of his vision, he considers himself lucky that sukuna finds him interesting enough to keep alive at all.

sweet filthy thing // @malient