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lovenona · 3 years

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for all his arrogance, his indifference, his nonchalance, local menace art student ryomen sukuna is quietly possessive. he’d never admit to that openly – he’d never admit to anyone, even himself, that he covets your attention the way some covet money or power or pleasure. he would, after all, rather live in painful denial forever than admit that he craves your attention like a drug.

and maybe he takes it for granted, too, that you’re always going to be looking at him, even when he annoys the shit out of you. maybe sukuna takes it for granted that he’s going to be the center of your universe forever, like you’re two planets that orbit each other without ever trying, without ever moving away.

so imagine his surprise when he strolls into your shared class – something malleable, sculptural this time – and you’re not looking for him, you’re not assaulting him with your usual your usual quips and annoyed commentary. it’s eerie radio silence from you: he’s convinced you’re not even aware he’s walked into the room. he hates it.

no, you’re deep in conversation with him. geto suguru, transfer student, with his annoyingly silky hair and his perfectly curated outfits and his multiple piercings that even put sukuna’s to shame. geto suguru, with a voice that could have narrated an award-winning nature documentary and hands so smooth and silky sukuna wonders begrudgingly if he made a deal with the devil for that kind of prowess. geto suguru: local heart throb already, a sexy brain with a double major in ceramics and anthropology who tells you in that beautiful voice of his how he wants to go to graduate school and study cremation and death rituals. who tells you about his human rights activism, the handmade ceramic bowls he sells to raise money for important causes.

(and maybe he’s pretentious. but fuck, he’s hot.)

and of course, sukuna doesn’t quite understand why he hates geto so much – they get along well, strangely, and geto compliments his artistry, validates his dream of becoming a tattoo artist. but when sukuna sees you hanging onto geto’s every word, he’s livid. it’s a malicious, molten feeling that grows in his stomach and metastasizes through his limbs and his nerves and his brain. it’s a feeling he doesn’t recognize, an all-consuming feeling he doesn’t understand.

he sees geto, he sees red: because ryomen sukuna craves your attention, and he’s not used to it when you stop giving it to him.

#just having some thoughts abt sukuna being stupid and jealous #but so emotionally constipated that he just lets himself suffer #also geto is hot #sukuna #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #adele writes #artist!jjk #geto.seguru #ryomen.sukuna

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lovenona · 3 years

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and i repeat: anthropo-ceramics geto suguru is the type of toxic where he'd take your virginity, make a sculpture about the experience, then smash it on the ground as a metaphor

this ask is my entire life. this ask is my lifeblood. everyone please saddle up for the ride of a lifetime, otherwise known as 1500ish words of toxic geto featuring sukuna being a good fucking friend – please continue at ur own risk this absolutely contains geto being a pretentious toxic fucker and mentions of virginity/first time but yes i guarantee it does have a happy ending (link to the full college! cinematic universe here)

let’s begin with the basics – why wouldn’t you fuck geto suguru? he has the type of beauty that lingers on the back of your eyelids even after you’ve long since departed from him; it’s the kind of fragrant, lasting beauty that you think sculptors muse over when they coax life from their marble. he’s smooth, like still water, and calming, like the sound of birds rustling and leaves swaying at dawn. he is helen: a beauty that nations would go to war over.

and sure, he is pretentious, the kind of toxic pretentiousness that festers inside of all pretty boys who call themselves “leftists” but can’t be bothered to call their mothers or to care about their partners. but it’s the way he speaks, the way he looks at you with such fervor and attention in his eyes that you’re utterly willing to let him break your heart.

and maybe it’s not often that someone looks at you the way geto does: it’s not often that someone looks at you like they want you, body and soul. and it feels nice to be cared about, to be flirted with, even if the figure doing the flirting condescends you in a way that is different, harsher, colder, than the way ryomen sukuna does.

so geto suguru takes you on dates. after the avant-garde poetry reading, in which you feigned excitement as he recited a poem on global imperialism that you didn’t quite vibe with, he brings you to local bookstores with overpriced yuppie memoirs, farmers’ markets with organic fruit, human rights protests and philosophy meetings where greasy boys bitterly discuss the communist manifesto. he takes you to dinner, too, to vegan restaurants that you can’t help but rave about on yelp later and to bars where they serve your cocktails in mason jars.

geto suguru, for all his faults, is incredibly lighthearted with you; he makes you feel beautiful and desirable and warm, even when he’s explaining anthropology to you with such intense vigor that you lose track of his meaning. after everything, you’d be lying if you said you regretted your time with him.

after awhile you let geto fuck you – and yes, he was your first time, which you were naturally quite nervous about. but you appreciated him because he waited for you; he never pressured you into behaviors you didn’t want; he never asked you for services you weren’t ready to provide. and so when you slept with him, after an invigorating open-mic night at the fair-trade coffee shop near campus, you felt ready for the intimacy. geto made you feel attractive, comfortable, safe. he praised you the whole night, gave you caresses that lit you up like fireworks, provided such a level of god-tier aftercare you still reminisce about it, even now.

but that’s the thing about anthropology-ceramics major geto suguru: he’s quietly toxic. he’s a poison that sneaks up on you, infecting your bloodstream when you least expect it.

you weren’t sure if geto wanted to pursue a relationship, either. you’d fucked, sure, and you went on dates, but he was always the type to avoid long-term commitments. rumors float around campus of the many partners he’s ghosted, of the relationships he exploited for his own “artistic musings.” they aren’t loud rumors, to be sure, but they hang around his aura like a strange, ghostly scent.

geto is a pretentious little fuck. you’ve known it and agreed to enter his circle anyway. maybe you hoped, perhaps naively, that the rumors would simply not apply to you.

which was a stupid idea. three weeks after the experience, since which you have only spent one-on-one time with geto only a few times, mostly to talk about school, the art department hosts an art show. it’s a regular occurrence, where the art students show off their best works, grad students display their in-progress theses, and outsiders can browse the displays, drink wine, offer to give outstanding students jobs and internships. it’s truly a big fucking deal for the art department; many of the school’s the most successful artists received their first acclaim here.

you’ve always enjoyed attending, even if the level of talent and expertise sometimes intimidates you, even if you know you’ll never be on this level. you know sukuna’s got a few paintings lined up to be on display – paintings you’ve modeled for, drawings you’ve watched him labor over for hours on end. you reckon that for all your begrudging time together, you might as well show your face in support.

but what you didn’t count on was geto’s contribution.

at this art show, there are, every now and then, some interactive performances, speeches, explanations on certain works. so it happens that from the back of the auditorium you watch geto take the stage, wheeling a small, white sculpture behind him. from your perspective it could have been a flower – perhaps a lily, but you can’t be certain.

(geto always did like sculpting precious, dainty flowers.)

he doesn’t call you by name, but he doesn’t have to. he talks at great length in that smooth voice of his about the construct of virginity, the purity culture plaguing the globe, the emotional sensitivity of having your first time. geto seguru tells an avid audience what you felt about fucking for the first time. he recreates the entire night for two hundred listeners: he recalls the foreplay, the insecurity, the orgasms. he doesn’t call you by name. he doesn’t have to.

he may have asked for your consent the first time. but he certainly did not ask your permission to do this.

you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry when geto dramatically smashes his own sculpture, citing the “destruction of virginity” and the need “to demolish a social desire to classify one’s morality based upon their sexual activity” and “the symbolic popping of the cherry” among other phrases that are utter bullshit. you’re watching the fragments dance across the stage and you feel exploited. you feel used in a way that feels utterly worse than anything else geto could have done.

did he ever like you? or were you simply a muse for this moment?

you’re about to ditch the art show and go wallow in self pity at your apartment when a familiar presence slides in beside you.

“that’s kinda fucked,” sukuna says, hands in his jacket pockets. he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his tone tells you he’s joking. maybe he just doesn’t know. “no one gives a shit about virginity constructs anymore, idiot.”

“yeah,” you respond, but the energy is gone. you feel strange, like you’re hovering outside of yourself. your head hurts: you’re angry. you decide you’d like to cry when you get home. “what a piece of shit.” it comes out strangled and lost.

sukuna notices the dejection in your voice, the sag in your shoulders, the way you’re just barely able to hold yourself together. he may be arrogant, not ryomen sukuna is not mean.

a familiar arm around your shoulders, keeping your sanity together. “shit’s lame. let’s get the fuck out of here.” it’s a phrase that captures everything that remains unsaid between you: i’m going to beat the shit out of geto the next time i see him. that’s absolutely unbelievable.

you never explicitly told sukuna about your weird relationship with geto: you didn’t have to. it was always evident to the both of you. it was written in the way you’d look a little bit longer in geto’s direction, in the way you let yourself be strung along and become someone else. you’ve hung around sukuna long enough that you know his body language and that he knows yours. you’ve hung around sukuna enough that there are a lifetime of stories that never need to be told.

you nod. “yeah.” thank you. i know.

you’re both uncharacteristically silent when you exit the auditorium, when you collect sukuna’s belongings that are still lounging by his artwork as you prepare to leave. ryomen sukuna is famous for never shutting the fuck up. but as you button your coat, he’s silent, and it’s strange. comfortable.

“thank you,” you say with uncharacteristic softness as he throws a sketchbook back into his backpack and zips it shut.

“why?”

“for asking my permission,” you say, gesturing to the gallery wall behind him, to the painting of you – “eros” – that you had posed for awhile back. even now, you find that it captures an essence you did not know you possessed. “he didn’t. ask, i mean.”

ryomen sukuna has always craved your attention. and maybe he’s glad he’s got it back – but it feels sour. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking upset for you. he doesn’t understand why he wants so badly for you to be happy again. what he does understand is that he plans for retribution.

“that’s fucked,” he settles on. “what bastard doesn’t ask for consent?”

you smile – and he does too, one that’s less feral and almost kind. and so you fall back into routine, already, some kind of weight lifting from your shoulders. ryomen sukuna may be a menace, but you can rely on him, trust him: that much you know.

“you know,” sukuna says offhandedly as you exit the building and enter the parking lot. “i know where geto’s car is, i’m just saying. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have an extra precision knife in my backpack right now.”

#IDK YALL #SMTH ABT THIS JUST MAKES ME FERAL #IF U NEED A FOLLOWUP U KNOW WHERE THE ASK BOX IS #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #adele writes #artist!jjk #letters to adele #geto.seguru #ryomen.sukuna

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lovenona · 3 years

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I just haad to say thank you for the free serotonin that you have provided me with through the last artist sukuna post

it's just... ✨beautifull✨ we are slowly building up this au

BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM GETTING MORE AND MORE FRUSTRATED WITH THE LACK OF ATTENTION WERE HE'S KIND OF POUTING

and then there need to be a project done in which you have the option to work in groups and NO MATTER WHAT this proud cherry haired idiot WILL work alone but geto won't he came to y/n and they really need to work in a group if they want to get this done so of course y/n is happily gonna agree to the offer of geto to work together they do be viben after all which ultimately leads to the fact that y/n is gonna give sukuna even less attention (it probably doesn't even get on his nerves that much that y/n works with geto its just the lack of attention and ultimately time spending with you that result from it)

ah i am sorry I was rambling again😂

anyways hope you have a nice day and don't stress yourself too much with answering always happy to see you post❤️

babe let me just say ur brain is massive and i thank u from the bottom of my heart – anyway here’s the original post for everyone about to embark on this godforsaken journey with art student sukuna and our new friend pretentious fuck geto suguru

if you thought you were pitiful at drawing, your sculptural skills are on another level of true and utter shit. you cannot, for the life of you, create things out of clay. you despise carving anything into wood. your pottery faithfully collapses on you whenever you try. you hate working with glass. you would have dropped the class, honest, if you didn’t desperately need it in order to fulfill your major requirements and graduate on time.

all in all, it’s an awful class created solely to tank your gpa – you don’t understand what you’re doing, you don’t understand what anything is supposed to look like, and you sure as fuck don’t understand how anyone else seems to have their shit together all the time. when you glance around the room, no one, not even the famous ryomen sukuna, has trouble making their materials turn into something recognizable.

(and, in true sukuna fashion, he loves to make sure you know how fucking untalented you are.)

so when anthropology-and-ceramics king geto suguru asks if you want to be partners for the next big art project, you agree without a second thought. you’ve been talking to him recently, small talk before class, and for all his pretentious faults, you think he’s delightfully hot as fuck with a smooth voice to match. he wears those crisp, expensive button-downs that he bought at overpriced local craft markets. he always smells like cedar and eucalyptus; he brings a different tote bag to every class, his favorite being one he got as a gift for subscribing to the new yorker. he shops organic only and throws around the words “fair trade” and “bourgeoisie” and “means of production” with the ease that sukuna throws around the words “fuck” and “shit.”

you think geto is fascinating. and maybe he talks down to you when explaining his anthropology knowledge, he absolutely does, but when he gazes at you with those warm eyes and offers to help you learn how to sculpt and raise your grades, you can’t help but agree with a pair of big pathetic doe eyes.

why wouldn’t you? you’re just here for a good time, after all.

so when you giggle as geto places his sinfully smooth, manicured hands over yours while teaching you how to use the pottery wheel, you don’t think much of it. you think he’s cute and warm. you’d be a fool to notice the dark annoyance radiating from the other corner of the room.

ryomen sukuna always works alone. but what he didn’t count on was that you wouldn’t be working alone with him.

it’s not that you’re working with geto, he swears. it’s that you’re not working with him. his ears feel strangely empty without your argumentative quips, without the way you tell him he’s infuriating and annoying every time he tells you something lewd just to fluster you. it’s strangely empty without you both arguing about the difference between great artists and sell-outs – were you here, in his corner of the room, maybe sukuna would have tried to tell you michelangelo was a loser just to see what you would say.

but you’re not with him. you’re listening to geto tell you about the time he went to study abroad in germany and how he took a trip to morocco where he tried some amazing food you’ve never heard of. he’s telling you about the time he helped make tampons in botswana after his senior year of high school and all of the other deliciously precocious things he has done for the sake of human rights and anti-capitalism.

(you’re killing the environment, you know, geto often admonishes you when you stumble into class with your cup of coffee. that cup is going to end up in a landfill. he always taks a sip from his hydroflask for emphasis. it’s sleek and black with an oxfam sticker on it.

and sure, you know that your cup is going to become trash. geto doesn’t have to be an annoying fuck and tell you when it’s only eleven in the morning and he drove a literal moped to campus. but still, with that silky man-bun, everything he does is okay.)

but understand that sukuna doesn’t hate geto. sukuna craves attention, and he absolutely cannot stand being ignored. he’ll pout without realizing it, pursing his lips and wondering what kind of circus act he needs to perform to win back your presence. should he get another tattoo? cuss out the professor? offer to fuck you senseless in the third-floor bathroom? he’s not sure – he’s never not been seen before. ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what it’s like to come in second.

so he intercepts you after class; in a manner that is both sukuna-and-not-sukuna, he’ll casually throw one of his heavy arms over your shoulders, subtly pulling you away from geto’s aura, wrapping you in his scent of earth and leather and sex appeal. “come on, puppy,” he says, sultry and annoying and condescending all wrapped in one, tapping his ring-clad fingers against your arm. “you’re supposed to help me write my paper, aren’t you?” it’s not a question, it’s a demand, one you know deep down that you would rather die than shy away from.

you might not like sukuna, you tell yourself, but there’s something about him, the way he talks and moves and exists in the world, that makes you unable to shy away. there’s something about him that always makes you want more without you quite knowing why.

(he kissed you, once. sometimes you wonder if you would like it to happen again.)

and you’re still nestled under sukuna’s arm, trapped in his orbit and following him to his favorite empty classrooms, when geto calls back to you, wondering if you’re still interested in going to the avant-garde poetry reading with him tomorrow night.

he’s going to present a poem he wrote on the terrors inflicted on south america by the united states, geto had explained earlier when his hands were on yours. it was going to be some real, hard-hitting poetry, none of that “rupi kaur bullshit.” he thought it might enlighten you to join him, perhaps in more ways than one.

you pretend you don’t notice the way sukuna’s arm tightens around your shoulders when you tell geto with a flirtatious smile that you can’t wait.

#welcome to my blog where we just thirst all day long #geto and sukuna fighting over me? it's more likely than u think #pretentious fuck geto is my favorite thing ever #sukuna #sukuna x reader #geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #adele writes #artist!jjk #letters to adele #geto.seguru #ryomen.sukuna

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lovenona · 3 years

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omg hi i just binged the artist!jjk universe thing and ... can i say that as an art student with an art history minor... going to a Big Fancy Art School... the vibes are spot on and i just akdkgk all you need is like art professors saying “ok let’s take a 10 min smoke break” and you’ve basically got the entire experience

i am also thinking about talking about late-19th early 20th century european modernism with (non toxic/pre art show fiasco) getou and having him both praise and hate on picasso for inventing cubism but also being an all around dickhead of a guy and also talking about the cultural appropriation and imperialism that influenced primitivism and and and and (sorry anyway) and how artist!sukuna would react and try and keep up or try and monopolize reader’s attention ... many thoughts head full (also sorry for rambling i just.. really like this AU, i may or may not find it a bit too relatable)

(sksjsk god artist! au is based on some of my past college experiences....solidarity in pretentious art school vibes 😔✊)

God Would Geto Be Annoying As Fuck, But We Love It So Much. like, this man would shamelessly mansplain everything about european modernism to you while you’re sitting in a lecture On That Topic. he’s so fucking pretty, though, that you don’t mind if geto repeats what you already know.

and besides, you can’t help but be fascinated by what he has to say: because even if geto is a somewhat condescending, that doesn’t change the fact you’re enraptured by imperialism and art and everything in between. that doesn’t change the fact that you want to know.

(of course, geto, being the “activist” he is, still can’t go a class period without bringing up the serious problems of colonialism just to have a discussion with the professor that none of you are quite able to follow. you think he’s handsome when his eyebrows furrow.)

it’s pretty clear, then, why you would enjoy sitting next to geto during class or in the library. he’s a fountain of knowledge on a period of art history you, a simple baroque and renaissance enthusiast, don’t know much about. geto offers to take you to the art gallery on weekends just so he can show you some of these works in person, so you can really understand the politics behind them. he recommends you books from the library and even lets you borrow his own textbooks, dog-eared and well-worn.

with his smooth words, geto holds the entirety of your attention. he’s a fountain of political excellence who can tell you the history of any early-20th-century painting you see. you think it’s handsome of him, really, to be so politically aware, to be so to kind.

you also like to hold his hand at the museum while he speaks.

and this, of course, is what drives sukuna mad. shouldn’t he be the center of your universe? shouldn’t you be enraptured by his latest paintings, by his tattoo designs? geto makes decorative bowls, sukuna tries to tell you, but i make real art. so why don’t you care? why are you listening to geto talk about picasso and braque instead of watching sukuna’s paintbrush move?

(even worse, sukuna can’t stand cubism. i think braque would make him angry in ways he cannot even articulate. if sukuna saw braque’s work in person, he would tear it off the wall.)

furthermore, it enrages sukuna to think that geto knows things he doesn’t, to think that geto might somehow be better than him. sure, it’s no secret that sukuna doesn’t give a fuck about the majority of art history: why care about the dead when he’s right there, already the greatest artist among them? but perhaps, he realizes in alarm, that’s what he needs for you to listen to him. you don’t care about geto’s bowls; you care about what geto has to say about the isms, cubism and primitivism and futurism.

so that’s what he does. sukuna, reluctantly, in denial, starts to collect knowledge. when he wants your attention, he tells you about tattoo history. he tells you about the history of painting and the how renaissance artists made their colors. he tells you about artists you’ve never heard of to monopolize you, to show you he’s just as interesting and cool.

sukuna doesn’t care if you know his fun facts already: he’s putting his goddamn google searches to use. he researches every artist geto’s ever mentioned just so he can try to talk about it first, so he can become the intelligent one.

it’s actually rather amusing, really, to watch sukuna try so hard while denying his efforts at the same time. and while it might not always work, it’s still worth it, he thinks, when your eyes turn towards him.

(and if mansplaining art history to you doesn't work, well, he can always resort to throwing an arm around your shoulders and ushering you away, smooth and cool to somewhere private.)

#intellectual geto is so hot but SUCH a menace to society #like lord almighty #geto.seguru #ryomen.sukuna #artist!jjk #adele writes #letters to adele

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