Satoru Gojo Was Only 28 Yrs Old He Shouldve Been Shaking Ass In The Club ://

satoru gojo was only 28 yrs old he shouldve been shaking ass in the club ://

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"I wanna feel you from the inside."

Summary: Poor Geto has been in rough shape recently. So, when he finally hobbles out of his dorm to hand you a neatly sealed letter, you get a little worried. What could he have possibly written?

Genre: Yandere!Geto x AFAB!Reader, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Pre-cult Geto, Dark Fic

CW: Smut, Pussy eating, Suguru uses the word "Cunt" to describe the reader's genitals, Descriptions of gore, cannibalism, mutilation, he's honestly going crazy in this, do not trust him.

A/N: It's crazy how I'm genuinely obsessed with this man, but have hardly posted anything about him. We're changing that today.

Dear Sweetness,

I’d usually greet you, but I’m impatient. I must speak with you. 

Sweetness…..

Sugar.

Hun.

Those type of nicknames suits you. 

You stick to the back of my throat like honey. You coat my tongue with sweet nothings as your taste invades my soft palate and drenches my uvula. You drip slowly to cover my throat so that you can infiltrate my stomach. Your overwhelming scent remains after I’ve digested you, coating my day with you. 

Speaking of my appetite, I had the most delicious dream about you. I’ll say clearly, it wasn’t sexual. I can feel your disappointment and confusion through the page. Would you have preferred me fantasizing about your cunt? Exposing my perverse desire to be enclosed between your legs as I suck and lick your most personal space? To talk about how I woke up begging, praying for it to be a reality. Imagine my unending suffering, debating on leaving my dorm so I could sneak into your room to make an actuality?

Maybe another time, when I’m feeling up to it.

Now, let’s get back to the point, shall we?

I dreamt we were excorsing a curse, As we always do. However, when I encased it and braced myself for that nauseating taste… The taste that deteriorates my body from the inside out. The taste of blood, guts, shit, and swallowed regrets. That taste is so vile that even my description doesn’t do it justice. Sorry, I got off track. Unexpectedly, I got a pleasant taste instead. Actually, pleasant wouldn’t begin to describe the taste. It was transcendent. The type of flavor that purifies even the most heinous tastes and desires. The taste of eating the body of a saint after you’ve been forced to fast on your journey with them. I closed my eyes to savor it and clamped my jaw to force it to stay, I heard a crunch. Then, a squish. I felt that oozing liquid pours onto my tastebuds and smelt that copper, almost fruity smell that couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. I opened my eyes and saw that instead of eating the curse, I was eating you. I had bitten into your forearm, tearing the right arm of your custom uniform to shreds as sunk my canines into you. You didn’t even react. You just gave me a warm smile and ruffled my hair, as you always do. Dreams are said to be unconscious desires right? Your ID attempting to give you a message about the animalistic behaviors you’ve repressed. It’s a silly thing to bring up, but even nonsense can give one courage, no? I can wax as poetic as I want, and be as flowery as possible for a Jujutsu Soceror, however, I think a clear message will ring better.

I want you.

I want to gorge myself on you.

More than the fleeting touches we share. More than the sound of your voice when you greet Satoru and me. More than the arguments and reconciliations that we’ve had and will continue to engage in. More than devouring your cunt or having sex. I need to eat you. I want to kiss your soft lips and then take them between my teeth until plump flesh divorces from your face. Leaving blood leaking down your chin as your gums and bottom teeth get exposed to the elements. I want to rip off your tongue with my teeth and chew on it as I swallow and suck on your teeth like suckers. I’ll kiss your eyelids, feeling your lashes curve onto my chin. Once you open your eyes, I’ll scope them out with my fingers and slurp them down my throat. I’ll swirl my tongue around your empty sockets to get the scraps of your flavor. I’ll move down to masticate your lovely throat and reach your larynx. Your voice is always so soft and sweet. I wonder if your voicebox will melt once it hits the warmth of my tongue or if I’ll have to grind it against my teeth like tough taffy. My teeth will devour your respiratory system, stomach, and intestines. I wonder if I’ll be able to taste your stomach acids along with the partially digested food you’ve had during the day. I promise to save your heart for last. That rich dessert will envelop my mouth and free me of all other tastes and senses. 

I’m not sure if I intend to send this letter to you. In the case that I do, I’ll await your response. Only to a certain point though. A famine can only last for so long.

Forever your glutton,

Suguru Geto.

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