Gojo: Is masturbating while smoking weed called masturblazing?
Geto: No, it’s called highjacking.
Shoko: Guys, no, it’s weedwhacking.
Utahime: No, it’s called disappointing your mother.
i know, it's a real rarepair, but it has SUCH potential when you consider these characters' techniques and goals. here's a long look at a canonverse fic i'm working on for @jjkrarepairfest in august, set a couple of years after suguru defects. he's still just a baby, really...
‘What the hell were they thinking?’ he mutters, hissing as he eases the zipper past the break.
Utahime hears the real sentiment hidden behind the words. It’s far from the first time Getō has expressed it, but it lacks the condescension she remembers. Instead, he handles her bruised foot with a gentleness he never usually reserves for the weak.
‘They thought it was a Grade 2.’
When it comes to boys, girls want the illusion of safety above all else. An illusion, because the boy kneeling before Utahime is the worst curse user. He’s a mass murderer.
Still, as she catalogues the furious flutter of dark lashes over his high cheekbones, the fullness of his lips as he blows a stray wisp of hair out of his face, Utahime finds herself wondering if it even matters. What’s a little murder in their profession? She’s fairly certain even Gojō has killed people, though they probably deserved it.
If anything, Getō’s biggest flaw is how pretty he is. His is the kind of prettiness that leaves Utahime questioning if it’s possible to be too good looking. Perhaps she wouldn’t care if he possessed a rugged, masculine kind of beauty, but Getō is pretty the way girls are pretty. He’s pretty the way people used to say she was pretty.
Utahime looks away from him, letting her hair fall over her face. She knows it won’t hide the newly healed skin, shiny and pink where it streaks across her cheek. Shōko says it might fade with time, but Utahime heard the sympathy tucked into her voice. They both know it won’t make a difference. Not in any way that counts.
Strange that the sorcerer supremacist hasn’t mentioned the most glaringly obvious sign of her weakness yet. It was the very first thing Gojō pointed out.
‘You aren’t suited for the front lines, Utahime.’
She won’t look at him. Doesn’t want to see the truth written on his face like it’s permanently written on hers.
continued under the cut!
In the tense silence that follows, he calls on something from the void within his being. Watching as he produces what seems to be a full first aid kit from the repulsive inventory curse he summons to his shoulder, she’s struck by how attentive he is. He has all the trappings of a well-prepared parent, which doesn’t seem as surprising when she remembers the little girls from the report. Utahime wonders where they are, if they’re happy with him.
‘Painkillers,’ he says, offering her a little packet and an unopened bottle of water. ‘Take the edge off until you get to Shōko.’ Her thoughts must show on her face, because Getō’s lips quirk. ‘They’re not for me.’
There’s no reason to assume he’s lying. Not when he’s preoccupied with pressing a Hello Kitty bandaid to the tiny graze on her knee, carefully smoothing the adhesive flat against her skin. If she’d had any real concerns about the children’s wellbeing, the red bow affixed to the little cat’s ear would have put them to rest once and for all. It serves no purpose beyond artless joy.
Something about it feels wrong. Swallowing a couple of pills behind her palm, Utahime finds herself fixated on it, even as she flinches away from the new curse he summons. Its technique is frightening to behold, but the effects of its frozen breath are soothing when applied to the makeshift icepack Getō has put together. Holding the supercooled gauze to the swelling, he winds a length of bandage around her ankle with the most careful fingers, wordlessly dismissing his curses.
At last, they’re truly alone.
‘You know,’ he says, and there’s this strange edge to his voice. There’s this strange pause, like he’s working up to something. ‘Your technique is best utilised in support of another sorcerer’s goals.’
Utahime can’t help the laugh that slips out, despite the throbbing in her ankle.
Of course. It all makes sense now, both the fussing over her injury and the polite way he evaded mention of her scar. Of course he’s not going to insult the appearance of a potential accomplice. She’d feel disappointed if she hadn’t learned to expect disappointment from men as a default.
It’s easy to lift her gaze to his again when she realises that the truth doesn’t even matter, that he’ll say whatever he needs to.
’Is that your big plan here?’ she asks. ‘To recruit me?’ Getō says nothing, but there’s something uncomfortable about the set of his jaw. Something almost guilty to his expression that’s all the answer she needs. Sighing, Utahime throws her hands out, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘What’s your mission again?’ May as well hear him out. ‘Eliminate all non-sorcerers, was it?’
‘Something like that.’
There’s a twinkle to his dark eyes that makes her wonder if he’s fully aware how ridiculous it sounds. Shōko was right. Good parent or not, it’s an extraordinarily childish perspective on the matter.
‘No, thanks,’ she says at last. ‘I happen to rather like them.’
For the first time, she sees something resembling genuine irritation flash across his face. His lip curls in the moment before he softens it into a smile. Unthreatening. Safe.
‘What’s so good about them?’ he says lightly, those careful fingers still working around her ankle.
There are a thousand things she could say. A thousand things that would make for a far more persuasive argument in favour of their continued existence than the reason she eventually gives.
‘They invented baseball.’
After a short moment of stunned silence in which Utahime feels herself flush furiously, Getō laughs. It isn’t a proper laugh — it’s soft, safe — but it does the trick. He nods, biting down on his grin as he returns his attention to her injury.
Somehow, Utahime senses that’s it. He’s accepted her answer. He won’t argue and he won’t ask again and, for some inexplicable reason, it’s this that disappoints her more than anything else.
He’s just really bad at being a bad guy.
‘So, now what?’ she asks before she can help herself. Getō glances up at her, that same gentle smile playing on his lips. ‘I’m not going to join you and you’re not going to kill me so—’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Utahime blinks, surprised by the interruption. Of all the things she expected him to be sensitive about, it wasn’t this. The defensive jut of his chin, carefully hidden under a mask of indifference, feels curiously familiar to her.
‘Same reason Gojō hasn’t killed you.’
‘I’m not Satoru.’
Oh, she knows. Utahime won’t tell him that she’s spent the last ten minutes cataloguing all the ways they’re different — good and bad — but she knows.
‘Same reason you didn’t kill Shōko, then.’ Getō says nothing, but his hands have stilled over her ankle. ‘I’m weak,’ Utahime grits out. ‘But I’m still a sorcerer. Even if I’m an abomination to you—’ Seeing the frown that settles over his features at that, she instantly regrets her foolish vulnerability. ‘—you won’t kill me.’
‘An abomination?’ he repeats, quiet with his disbelief. ‘Imagine what I could achieve with a technique like yours, Utahime.’ His fingers ghost along her shin, dip behind her knee, press into the muscle of her calf. ‘Maybe I should take you with me,’ he murmurs, eyes flashing, cursed energy swelling. ‘Make you sing for me.’
It isn’t funny. It’s just sad.
‘Cosplay as a creep all you like, Getō.’ She can’t help how soft her voice comes out. ‘He’s more frightening than you,’ she says. ‘And he’s about as scary as a puppy.’
Getō’s fingers dig into her flesh almost painfully. His cheeks flush ruby red. ‘Puppies have sharp teeth.’
‘But they’re not cruel,’ Utahime insists. ‘They only bite because they don’t know any better.’
As she studies his features — his beautiful, youthful features — his hair tangles in his lashes, caught on a gust of September wind. She finds herself reaching out, brushing it away from his forehead before she can think better of it. And he closes his eyes at the contact, pressing his face into her palm before he can think better of it.
Her thumb slips down his cheek, catches the corner of his perfect mouth. She sees the pointed canine hidden beneath soft, soft skin and she’s awestruck. He’s too young. And she’s a teacher now; she should set a good example for her students.
‘All those teeth,’ Utahime says, wondering what the hell she’s thinking. ‘They just don’t know where to put them.’
‘Careful.’
His dark eyes snap open again, but now, the fire burning within them has taken on a different shape. Now, his hand travels up under her hakama, up over her thigh. There’s no resistance from the wide pleats, and there’s no resistance from Utahime either. He’s so angry. So soft, so safe.
‘Maybe some puppies know better than you realise,’ he grumbles, gliding along the delicate skin of her inner thigh. ‘Maybe they know exactly where they want to put them.’
Something a lil different than I usually post. I have an ao3 alt where I post JJK fan fics and my best friend @nofear-x made this gorgeous cover art for Cursed Shrine Maiden (which is a Gojohime fic where Geto kidnaps Utahime and turns her into a cursed spirit) and I just wanted to share the art because I mean if yall know me I’m obsessed with Geto like that’s my man 😩 and this art is everything. It’s been my phone background for months 🔥
Shokohime and Satosugu who both realize at some point during adulthood that it doesn’t work anymore and they switch partners (either Getoshoko/Gojohime or Satoshoko/Getohime).
