Pretty When You Cry | Suguru x reader
Summary: Riko’s death weighs heavily on Geto Suguru’s shoulders. As the weeks go by, he drifts through each day in a daze, unable to find meaning in what he does. Saving people feels less like a duty and more like slowly drowning, especially when the number of curses only seems to grow with no end in sight. Caught in his spiral, overwhelmed and exhausted, he proposes a dangerous idea to Yuki an idea born from grief rather than logic. But before the conversation can go any further, his girlfriend steps in, shutting it down instantly and completely derailing the direction things were heading.
Warning: none, suguru lowkey depressed or whatever
Comments: know JJK is full of ‘what if’ scenarios, but I couldn’t shake the idea of Geto Suguru having a woman who actually knocks some sense into him, someone who literally helps him through a depressive spiral. This one isn’t for the smutty girls, it’s for the yearners.
"Then... why not kill every non-jutsusu sorcerer alive?”
The words rang in your ears, your back pressed against the wall as you listened closely.
You could feel the momentary pause. This bitch couldn’t seriously be entertaining the thought? Your eyes hardened, fingers curled into a fist - failing attempts to contain your boiling temper.
“That could be an option -” Yea, fuck off you thought before pushing yourself off the wall and finally turning the corner.
“That is absolutely not an option.” You spat the words, planting yourself in front of both of them, arms crossed, unable to look at Geto for now.
"To try to eliminate every person on this earth for what you call the greater good is not only absurd but it’s stupid. You can’t end suffering by creating more suffering.”
Your jaw locked, eyes blazing, before softening as they finally drifted toward Geto, leaving him momentarily stunned by your sudden appearance.
“Curses are born from negative emotions, fear, grief, envy but these are part of being human. They’re not flaws to erase, they’re part of the human experience, something we’re meant to protect. If we start deciding who deserves to live and who doesn’t… aren’t we just becoming the very thing we claim to fight?”
And then your gaze hardens.
Stepping closer, leaning in slightly, eyes narrowing, fingers pointed firmly. “Don’t go around entertaining thoughts like that.”
Then, without breaking your attention, you faced Geto. Your eyes softened as you stood taller, hands reaching, threading through his dark hair, tracing the contours of his face. You noticed the subtle drop in his weight, the shadows under his eyes, the exhaustion etched into every line. His eyes, a mix of surprise, shame, and sadness, met yours, and for a moment, the world shrank around you two.
You didn’t understand how someone could change so drastically in less than a month. You knew he had been devastated after Riko’s death, but this… this was different. You had been away for only a month, and yet, he had carried such weight alone.
The air between you was heavy, thick with unsaid words and restrained emotion. You crouched slightly, your voice softening. “And you, don’t ask such stupid questions.”
Geto’s head lowered to rest lightly against your stomach, aching for your warmth while hiding his shame. His muscles, that had been so tense these weeks, instinctively relaxed as he wrapped his arms around your hips. Despite being caught off guard during his moment of weakness, he couldn’t help but smile, ever so slightly at the thought of you being here.
“Hey… hey kid, let’s get this clear - I never said that,” Yuki said, leaning back, eyebrows raised, trying to act nonchalant as if they weren’t discussing some sort of massacre. “But yeah, what your girlfriend just said - I agree. Stupid. Care for humanity, don’t take the easy route, yada yada.”
And just like that, the moment of tenderness was over. Geto, eyes still tired, glanced at Yuki, silently warning: you’re digging yourself a deeper hole here.
Your eyes met hers - you were ready to remind her of the seeds of thought she had been planting without realizing but she got up, quickly might you add, before you could speak.
“Alright lovebirds” she glances between both of you “ Seems like you guys have some catching up to do so I’m out of here,” she said, leaving the room.
It was just the two of you. Silence hung heavy, woven with concern and the quiet pulse of a love that you both shared.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “If you had told me… I would’ve come to pick you up.” He pressed his forehead and chest closer to you, drawing you into his warmth.
Your heart swelled at his words. Fingers threading through his hair, you tried to smooth away the stress that had taken hold over the past weeks.
“Wanted to surprise you,” you said, a playful lilt to your tone. The truth was, your mission had been scheduled for two months but his calls had grown scarce, his voice quieter each time, always tired, always dodging your questions. It was instinctive; your body refused to stay away. So you finished the mission in a month, working through sleepless nights and surviving almost entirely on 7/11 coffee.
“Well… you did,” he said, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back slightly, taking your hands in his, bringing them to his mouth, and pressed soft kisses across your knuckles.
“You don’t look so well, you know,” you said, concerned creeping into your voice.
“Just a little tired… y’know exorcise, absorb, exorcise, absorb…” His voice trailed off, unconvincing even to him.
You could see how the weight of life and death pressed heavily on him, the endless cycle of responsibility offering no end.
“More than a little tired,” you said firmly, tugging gently on his hands to pull him up. “You’re overworked” You knew better than anyone how exhausting this life can be… the missions, the battles, the constant strain. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Geto stood there, towering over you, silent for a heartbeat, studying your face. Then, without a word, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight, affectionate hug. Your arms went instinctively around his neck, holding him close.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered into your hair, his voice breaking ever so slightly.
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Geto dropped your bags on the wooden floor of your shared apartment, your arms still full of groceries.
“Oh, you can just leave those in our room,” you said, nodding toward the bags.
He gave a small nod as you swung open the refrigerator.
Nothing. Just a few eggs and a carton of milk. No wonder he’s practically shriveling up.
Without wasting a second, you set the groceries down, tied your hair back, and slipped on an apron. Before Geto could protest, the rice cooker was humming, the pan sizzling with vegetables and meat, and the instant curry was warming on the stove.
A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, his hair brushing the back of your neck. “You should’ve waited… I would’ve cooked for you,” he murmured.
Turning, your eyes met his, and for a moment, the air thickened with everything neither of you had said in weeks, the frustration, the worry, the unspeakable weight he carried. You wanted to ask, to demand, to comfort but the words tangled in your throat.
“You’re always cooking for me,” you said finally, your voice soft but teasing. “At this rate, I’ll forget how to do anything myself and be completely dependent on you.”
Geto chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
You rolled your eyes, but didn’t push him away. “Take a quick nap,” you said, though he ignored you, trailing kisses along your neck.
He had about three plates worth of food, not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite actually.
Afterwards, you ran a hot bath for him, watching as the guilt flickered across his face while he took in the effort you put in for him. Rolling your eyes, you coaxed him into the water, massaging his scalp and washing his hair.
“This isn’t half bad,” Geto murmured, leaning back against the tub, eyes distant.
“Don’t get used to it,” you scoffed lightly, hiding your giggle.
Afterward, out the tube you sat him on the floor between your thighs, carefully drying his hair. . Every gesture was gentle, intimate, but the silence remained, circling around the one thing neither of you dared to speak aloud.
“Alright… that should do it,” you said, planting a soft kiss on his shoulder.
Geto turned, resting his head on your thighs, eyes soft and vulnerable as he played with the hem of your shirt.
Finally, his gaze lifted to yours, the weight of weeks pressing into every line of his face. “I… I can’t stop thinking about Riko,” he admitted, his voice trembling, tight with guilt. “She… she was my responsibility. I… I failed her.”
Your chest tightened at the pain etched into his expression. “Suguru…” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “I know you feel that way, but you did everything you could. That wasn’t your fault.”
He shook his head, tears slipping freely now. “… I should have protected her better, I let my guard down. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop… any of it.” His voice cracked, raw anguish breaking through his controlled exterior. “… it’s too much, the curses…the evil… I can’t fix it.”
You leaned closer, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Suguru, listen to me,” you said gently, each word deliberate. “You couldn’t have predicted what happened. No one could have. There was nothing you or anyone could do to change it. This… this mission should have never been something meant for you two to bear alone.”
He pressed his forehead to yours, his body trembling, quiet sobs threatening to escape. “But it feels like… like I failed at everything. Like all I’ve done… all I’ve done is fail.”
You held him tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, feeling the storm in him and grounding it with your presence. “You haven’t failed. You’ve done so much good, so much more than you even realize. Riko… would she have blamed you? Never. She’d want you to keep going, to live, to fight… not drown in guilt.”
He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against your thigh, “I’m sorry… I just feel so defeated” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his, wrapping him completely in your arms. “ You will never carry the world alone. Not ever. You’ve already done so much. Don’t let the rest of it crush you.”
The tension in him eased slightly. His tears slowed, and though his pain was far from gone, he let himself rest against you, the weight shared, not borne alone.
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The next few days passed in a slow, steady rhythm, quiet mornings together, shared meals, walks around the neighborhood, moments of laughter. And with each passing day, he seemed lighter, steadier, especially now that you both had taken a couple weeks off.
But today was slightly different.
Suguru hummed along softly to your playlist, windows rolled down as the countryside breeze swept through the car. The sunlight caught on his face, you truly forget how hot your boyfriend is sometimes.
“Alright…” you said, pulling into the driveway. “We’re here.”
You grinned at him, wide and excited, and received a small, nervous smile in return.
You weren’t the only one who had been worried about him. A day after you returned to Jujutsu High, his parents had called you, concerned for him. You reassured them he’d be visiting home soon. You knew what weighed on him, Yuki’s words still echoing, the shame of having even considered a path that would have meant wiping out non-sorcerers… including his own family. The guilt was something he hadn’t dared speak aloud, but you felt it hiding in the corners of his mind.
But the moment the front door opened, all that tension dissolved.
His parents didn’t hesitate as they wrapped him into their arms the second they saw him.
“Suguru! Oh, sweetheart,” his mother gasped, pulling him close, hands trembling slightly as she cupped his face. “I missed you so, so much. And my god - did you lose weight?”
He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but more like a release, leaning gently into her touch. “Just a little. Summer heat,” he joked softly.
His father clapped a warm hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a second, firmer embrace. “It’s good to have you home, son. Really good.”
You watched him, how his shoulders dropped, how the stiffness he carried melted under their affection. In their arms, Suguru looked less like a sorcerer and more like a boy again a boy who was loved, who had always been loved.
And then his mother turned to you with the same warmth. “Oh sweetheart, thank you for bringing him.” She pulled you into a hug too, squeezing your arms affectionately.
You smiled. “Of course. I’ve been wanting to bring him back.”
She nodded knowingly, eyes softening. “Good. He’s been working himself sick.” She said it loud enough for Suguru to hear, and he looked away, cheeks slightly pink.
As you all stepped inside, Suguru stayed close to you, close enough that his arm brushed yours with every step. But it wasn’t out of anxiety anymore. It was grounding. Reassurance.
Inside, the house felt warm. Safe. Lived in. Photos lined the walls, Suguru as a child, Suguru with his friends, Suguru with his parents. You watched his eyes linger on each one.
And you saw the realization hitting him slowly, gently.
This was the world he had once sworn to protect.
This was what he almost convinced himself didn’t exist anymore.
You slipped your hand into his, squeezing it once. He looked at you, really looked at you and you saw the shift in his expression. Shame loosening.
His mother tugged him toward the kitchen. “Come, come, you must be starving. I made all your favorites.”
He laughed softly with an unguarded, genuine sound and let himself be pulled away. But not without reaching back and catching your hand, pulling you with him. Not letting go.
For a moment, watching him surrounded by warmth, you saw the boy he had once been. The one who believed in people. The one who fought because he cared.
And you could tell this visit was stitching something inside him back together.
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You were on one of your afternoon walks, hand in hand with Suguru, when you slowed down in front of a small café storefront.
“Mind if we stop here for a bit?” you asked casually.
“Of course, babe,” Suguru said immediately, fingers tightening affectionately around yours. “Get whatever you want.”
“Whateverrr I want? Dangerous thing to say,” you teased, giggling.
Suguru just smiled, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. He’d been showering you with more affection than usual,if that was even possible. These days he was the one waking up early to cook for you, running warm baths, massaging your shoulders after long days… and at night, he worshipped you with a tenderness that nearly broke your heart. It was as if he was trying to make up for the weeks he let himself slip away.
But truthfully, you weren’t here for coffee.
And as soon as you stepped inside, Suguru figured that out.
His steps slowed. His grip tightened. His eyes flicked to the back corner of the café.
Gojo was sitting there.
Waving at you both with that easy smile, even though the way he kept adjusting his sunglasses betrayed his nerves.
“You tricked me,” he whispered.
“You needed this,” you answered softly.
His throat bobbed. “I… don’t know if I can -.”
“Yes, you can.” You squeezed his hand and moved to stand in front of him. “Suguru… you both experienced losing her, you both still carry that burden heavy and you need to talk to the one person who went through it all with you. “
You lifted his face gently with your fingers. “ Just go talk”
His lashes fluttered, conflicted. “You know… the last straw that made me immediately drop everything and rush back to you?”
He swallowed. “Gojo called me. I had never heard him be so serious…so concerned. “
You stepped back, brushing your hand against his arm one last time. “Go,” you whispered. “I’ll be right outside.”
He hesitated only a second more before nodding and walking toward Gojo.
You exhaled and stepped outside, only to find Shoko leaning against the wall, smoking lazily.
“Oh, hey,” she greeted, blowing out a thin cloud. “Are they finally talking?”
“Yeah,” you said with a small smile.
Shoko eyed you briefly, almost impressed. “Good. They’ve been avoiding each other’s feelings like it’s a sport.”
You snorted, leaning against the wall beside her.
Minutes passed. Maybe twenty. Maybe thirty. The café patio was quiet except for the soft hum of conversation inside. You didn’t hear a thing from their booth, but every now and then you saw glimpses,Suguru’s bowed head, Gojo’s hands moving animatedly, two silhouettes leaning in closer.
At one point, Suguru laughed.
A real, genuine laugh.
Shoko’s brows lifted. “Huh. Good sign.”
When the door finally opened, Suguru stepped out first. His eyes were a little red, but his whole expression looked lighter, unburdened in a way he hadn’t been for weeks. Gojo followed, offering you a smile before calling out.
“Alright, tomorrow at 2pm! Don’t forget!”
Then he walked off with Shoko in tow.
Suguru chuckled softly at Gojo’s dramatics, then turned to you. In two steps he had his arms around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. You hugged him without hesitation.
“Thank you,” he murmured, voice thick.
You slid your fingers into his hair. “You don’t have to thank me. I love you, Suguru. I’ll always pull you back.”
He exhaled, resting his forehead against yours.
“I’m truly the luckiest man in the world.”
You knew that no matter the weight of his burdens, no matter how far he had strayed, this connection was a tether, keeping him grounded when the rest of the world threatened to pull him under.
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