Chapter Text
Suguru Geto, the most respected man of the Shibuya Mafia, stood alone in the long, dimly lit room he called his office. The tall windows stretched across the vast wall, framed by equally massive blackout curtains, allowing only a sliver of golden light to seep through. Comfortable in his own office and not expecting to have any meetings today, he wore a black, form-fitting tank top paired with dress pants, his long black hair loosely tied in a low bun.
He chuckled to himself. Party on top, huh?
He stood from his desk and walked towards the window, gazing over the city he owned, when a cold shiver ran down his spine. He whipped around, his senses tuned to detect danger. Behind him, he felt the long, bony fingers of a hand wrap around his neck. Assuming it was his second-in-command sneaking up on him, he asked,
"Sukuna? What are you—"
"Guess again."
A deep, menacing voice growled, licking a path from Geto's exposed collarbone to his ear in one slow movement. Geto's eyes widened as the mysterious figure bit the bottom lobe of his ear. It felt... good... but
No.
He cant just let himself go like this to a stranger he's never seen.
How humiliating.
As Geto turned his head to see who could possibly have such a firm grip on his neck, the figure—a man, assumed by the low, raspy voice—reached with his other hand to cover Geto's eyes.
Shit.
A sense of unease stirred within him. He knows he's strong enough to break free from an attack, but something inside him compels him to stay still.
"Uh-uh," the man said, his tone teasing. "If you can't guess who I am, you don't get to see me either."
With that, the mysterious man pulled Suguru Geto in to something of a backwards hug, his fingers still around his neck, thumb gently pulling down on Suguru's bottom lip. The man moved his other hand to Geto's waist; holding him firmly to his own hips.
"Close your eyes and everything will be fine" the man said, slowly rubbing fingers up Geto's sides, exposing the skin beneath his tanktop.
Geto laid his head back, a smirk growing at his lips, eyes closed, cheek pressed against the mysterious man's, and with hot breath whispered, "fine, I'll play your game," finishing his sentence with a slow kiss on the taller man's lips.
The taller, surprised by the sudden action accepts this kiss, but quickly wants more. He deepens the kiss hungrily, turning Geto around to make it easier to get more.
More. More. More.
Geto laughed, somewhat breaking the kiss. He knows that hunger. He knows that taste of sweetness. As much as he tried to be mysterious and dark, the taste of sugar on the man's lips revealed his true nature, and if his suspicions were right, Geto knew if he kissed him, the man wouldn't be able to hold back.
"How have you been, Satoru?" Geto said, pulling back from his former partner, opening his eyes to look slightly up at the blue eyed, white haired, perfect specimen in front of him.
Gojo whined with a pout.
"Awww please come back, it was just getting fun."
Geto let out a low chuckle and gave Gojo a peck on the lips.
"You know I don't want you showing up at my work like this. It's too dangerous."
He walked back to sit at his desk where Gojo follows and stands in front of him.
"I know." He whines, "But I was getting bored. And I missed you."
~~When the last boss of the Shibuya Mafia was assassinated, it sent shockwaves through the underworld, throwing the organization into chaos. The sudden open space for power sparked a brutal struggle, as rival factions tried to seize control of the criminal empire. Among the contenders were two of the most powerful men in the Mafia: Suguru Geto, a cool-headed man, intelligence and strategy unmatched, able to kill without hesitation, and Satoru Gojo, a force of nature whose strength and charismatic leadership inspired near-unquestioning loyalty. His ability to detect danger was immaculate. Both had extreme natural strength. Some even questioned if they had supernatural abilities.
In the wake of the boss's death, their differences in ideals began to fray the edges of their once-solid company. Geto, pragmatic and focused on maintaining control, saw the only way forward as a consolidation of power was tightening the Mafia's grip on its territory and strengthening its operations. For him, stability was paramount, and he was willing to do whatever it took to secure it, even if it meant using ruthless tactics that bordered on the cold and unfeeling.
Gojo, on the other hand, had a different vision. Idealistic and restless, he believed the Mafia was a dying institution—its power rooted in outdated methods and endless cycles of violence. He saw a chance to build something new, to reshape the underworld into something more dynamic, more unpredictable, and, to him, more free. Gojo wasn't interested in consolidating power for power's sake—he wanted to challenge the old ways, even if it meant burning everything down in the process.
Their differing visions led to a bitter, inevitable split. Gojo took control of his faction, the "Tokyo Rebels," with a firm grip, ruthlessly enforcing his vision of order and loyalty, while Geto broke away with the Shibuya Mafia, his followers setting out to create something that reflected his own idealism. The Mafia was now divided—two factions at war, both led by men who were once united by more than just ambition.
Everyone knew they used to be partners. The duo was overpowered; able to solve any case, get anyone killed. But talking about it was taboo. Tensions were so high because of the almost-war within the organization that no one dared put their names together in a sentence.
While their public personas had always been that of rivals—beneath the surface...~~
"Suguru?"
"What." Geto responded harshly.
"What would you like for dinner, honey?"
He rolled his eyes. "Would you stop calling me that?"
"Well you are my husband after all. ...Oh what?" he teased, "you don't want anyone to overhear how great of a homemaker I am?"
Eugh .
Suguru hated when his partner got in this mood. Acting all sweet and innocent when he knows how powerful and relentless he really is.
"Could you stop pretending like you don't have anything to do all day, Satorou? It's not like you don't have your little rebels to talk to."
Gojo flirtatiously walked from the other side of the desk to Geto's swivel chair, draping his arms over the back onto Geto's chest, resting his head on the back.
"Now what fun would that be?"
~~ Despite their teasing, their relationship was one of deep, unspoken understanding. Even with their vastly different approaches to leadership, their bond had always remained a source of quiet strength between them. Geto's calculated, methodical mindset and rough attitude complemented Gojo's raw, chaotic energy, led to their unstoppable partnership—and great sex.
Yet, as their factions moved in opposite directions, the Mafia felt on the brink of a war. So for the fun of it all, to his clan, Gojo roleplayed as a jealous ex, revengeful at the Shibuya Mafia, settling to be civil just to save the lives of his people, knowing very well he would never really go after Suguru.
So, Geto and Gojo continued their secret relationship—one that, despite being on opposite sides of a war, was still a place of refuge and understanding. In the quiet moments when they were alone, away from the violence and manipulation, they found comfort in each other's presence. But as the civil war between their factions escalated, the stakes grew higher, mafia members felt as there's only room for one boss in the city. And so the danger of their bond being exposed loomed larger with each passing day.
In public, they were enemies. In private, they were husbands, bound not just by their shared past, but by a deep, unbreakable connection that neither the Mafia nor the world could ever fully understand.