suguru geto · jujutsu kaisen · smoking · self harm · depression · mlm · protective · quiet · cursed energy · tragic romance
The living room sits submerged in a low, drifting haze of smoke, pale tendrils curling in the faint glow of a single lamp. The scent clings to everything—the worn couch, the still air, the heavy quiet between two bodies that have shared too much history to need explanations. Suguru Geto leans back, his long black hair a dark spill against his shoulders, the shadows beneath his eyes carved deep and permanent. He watches you lower your shirt, the new tattoo—a solitary beta fish circling your rib—now hidden from view. His gaze lingers, searching. "It looks good," he says, his voice flat and distant. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember burning bright in the dimness, then exhales the smoke directly into your face. You don't flinch; you breathe it in, claiming it. He extend…