#geto on the other hand just arrived wanting to do absolutely everything without having to feel guilty about it

[carnethyne]

part 2 of their first year shenanigans

Stop stinking up the place!

[kashverse]

valentine’s day is a day of love, a day of romance, a day of thoughtful gifts and heartfelt gestures. at least, that’s what it’s supposed to be. in reality, it’s a chaotic mess of procrastination, poor planning, and half-baked ideas that somehow still turn out endearing.

gojo, for one, is convinced he’s got it all figured out—until he realizes a week before that he, in fact, does not. cue the absolute frenzy of online shopping, where express shipping fees start resembling down payments on luxury cars. you have never seen someone willing to pay $250 to ensure a singular plushie arrives on time, but here you are, witnessing gojo justify it with “it’s the principle, babe.” and when one of the plushies arrives looking like a legally-dubious cousin of hello kitty, affectionately dubbed "salutations feline," you know better than to ask questions. you just nod, accept the gift, and pretend it’s exactly what you wanted.

toji is really trying. genuinely. he even set aside money in a little envelope weeks ago, determined to get you something nice. unfortunately, he has the memory of a goldfish and cannot, for the life of him, remember where he put it. after turning the apartment upside down in a mild panic, he sighs, gives up, and buys you flowers instead. the disappointment in his eyes is real. but then, in a turn of events that could only be described as divine intervention, he finds the envelope wedged in the back of his underwear drawer while changing after a couple’s shower. he immediately drags you out for a fancy dinner, smug as hell, as if he planned it this way all along.

nanami is not here to play games. doubting his valentine’s day preparedness is like doubting if gravity will continue existing tomorrow. the moment you started dating, he created an excel sheet of your preferences. the list includes everything—things you’ve mentioned wanting in passing, your favorite colors, gift ideas you’ve sent him, and couple activities you’ve liked on social media. by the time february rolls around, he is four and a half weeks ahead of schedule. while others are scrambling for last-minute gifts, nanami is already wrapping yours in high-quality, sustainably sourced paper with a perfectly tied bow. he will not reveal how much thought went into it—he simply hands you the gift, kisses your forehead, and tells you to enjoy.

geto does not do things halfway. when he plans a valentine’s day surprise, he plans a valentine’s day surprise. there is a live band. live dancers. a live chef preparing a five-course meal. for a brief moment, you wonder if you’ve stepped into a wedding reception. as much as you love the grandeur, a part of you wishes there was something more intimate—something just between the two of you. it isn’t until he gets down on one knee and pulls out a ring that it all makes sense. the hidden cameras, the elaborate setup—he wasn’t just planning valentine’s day. he was planning the moment he’d ask you to spend forever with him. naturally, you burst into tears, because what else is there to do when suguru geto proposes?

choso, bless his heart, approaches valentine’s day with pinterest. a mistake. the sheer volume of ideas overwhelms him, and suddenly, he has 598 saved pins and no clear direction. still, he tries. he does 60 of them—which is a lot—but somehow, he still sits there at the end of the night, shoulders slumped, muttering, “i should’ve done more.” you, surrounded by candlelit dinners, handmade gifts, and personalized love letters, have to physically hold his face and tell him he has done enough.

sukuna does not do valentine’s day. he has made this abundantly clear. and yet, despite his insistence that it’s a “pointless holiday,” you notice he’s a little different that day. his usual sharp comments are softer, his touches linger a little longer, and he does things for you without being asked. no grand declarations, no fancy gifts, just small acts of care—holding you closer, making sure you’re comfortable, easing up on the teasing (only slightly). and while he still grumbles about the holiday, you catch him staring at you a little too long, the corner of his lips twitching up in something dangerously close to affection. maybe next year, he’ll actually acknowledge the holiday. but for now, this is enough.

[naussensei]

Prejudice

-

“Sensei…” Said Gojo all of a sudden.

“Hm?” Yaga did not look away from his report, but from the corner of his eye he could see him drawing circles with his fingers on the table.

“Why did you bring that normie here?”

It took Yaga a moment to realize who he was talking about.

“Oh, you mean Geto?” Yaga’s hand stopped scribbling to put the pen down and look at him. “He’s not a ‘normie’, he’s a sorcerer, just like you and Shoko.”

“He’s nothing like us!” 

“What about him?” Yaga raised an eyebrow in intrigue seeing Satoru so worked up. He’d been waiting to see how the two would get along, confident they’d be a great match. But perhaps he had been wrong. “Do you not like Geto?”

Satoru’s forehead banged softly on the table, pulling his own hair with a muffled, “I don’t know,” in agony.

It was the first time he’d seen him so troubled. Yaga couldn’t help a chuckle. 

“He’s good at basketball, though, I saw you two playing the other day.” Yaga lowered his head to meet the boy’s eyes. “And I heard from Kusakabe that his martial arts are superior. Have you not been wishing for a proper sparring partner?”

“Yeah,” he whined, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, he really is that good…”

Yaga sat back up, arms folded. “Then what is the problem?”

“I don’t know!” Satoru’s fists banged on the table as he rose on his feet. “He gets on my nerves. He’s always doing everything right. You never yell at him like you yell at me, and Shoko is always glued to him now like they’re freaking twins. Utahime and MeiMei act like dogs in heat around him. And he’s always acting nice to me, like, ‘Satoru’ this, ‘Satoru’ that, acting like he knows me, and he’s always, always following me around everywhere!” 

His nose seemed like it would fume. He brought a hand in front of his face and closed it into a fist. “And he always has that— that smile. And those… eyes. And that face. His face is so… so— ugh! It makes me want to—!”

Yaga let out a thunderous laugh, he had to hold his stomach with his hands to keep from falling forward. 

“Why are you laughing!? It’s not funny! Can’t you see I'm miserable here? Sensei, you’re absolutely evil!”

“Sorry, Ok,” he wiped the tears of joy off his eyes. “I see what’s going on here.” 

“Huh?”

It was really no wonder Satoru’s behavior had worsened since Geto’s arrival. 

Gojo Satoru, the golden child of one of the most powerful clans, nurtured with praise and showered with undivided attention. Of course he would not know how to handle sharing said attention. Even more so when Geto, who was unfamiliar with the sorcery world’s rules and history, seemed so unbothered by Gojo’s name.

“Satoru,” Yaga spoke in the most gentle voice he could find within himself without laughing. “You need to learn to share the spotlight. You have some good qualities, and Geto has others, you just need to find a way to compliment each other.”

“Good qualities?! What’s so good about him?” He said, only half-heartedly. “...other than his hair… maybe.”

Yaga shook his head. “Just so you know, Geto probably acts the way he does because he just wants to be your friend. He wants to stand out because he wants your attention.”

He squinted at him, reluctant. “ My attention?”

“You think he’s up against you and wants to steal the attention from you, but really all he wants is to be your friend. So why don’t you give him a chance? Try to get to know him?”

One eyebrow raised at him with skepticism, but then lowered again as he considered. “I don’t know. You think too highly of him. He’s an asshole.”

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Geto I told you?”

“What? That I’m your favourite student?” He elbowed him with a suggestive smile and winked at him. “Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.”

“Not in a million years.” Yaga's iron grip latched onto his arm, and twisted it softly until Satoru let out a moan in pain to yield. “You’re so full of yourself,” he scoffed, yet laughed to himself nonetheless, because as much as he tried to hide it, and as much as he hated to admit, Satoru was right, and they both knew it. But Yaga would rather die than tell that to the little prick. 

“Anyway, listen. Geto grew up in a place where no other sorcerers were around, with no one to guide him. He was always beaten and punished for things he didn’t do, all because he was different. And all his parents did was to move from school to school and house to house to avoid the problem, because they refused to accept it. I was the first sorcerer he ever talked to, and you and Shoko are the first sorcerers his age he’s ever met. Of course he wants to be your friend, because for the first time, he feels there are other people like him, that he’s not alone.”

The words must have resonated with him, because Satoru had now gone quiet again. He could see the shock slowly morphing on his face, eyes widening and a frown forming in his forehead, confusion written all over him. 

“Wait, they beat him just because he’s a sorcerer? But that— that doesn’t make any sense. Sorcerers are there to protect non-sorcerers.”

Yaga shook his head with regret. “When I found him, he was all beaten up on the street, and had been arrested, just because he was trying to exorcise a curse that was killing people. He was blamed for it.”

“But… why?” The boy shook his head eagerly in utter confusion, his breath quickening. He huffed a laugh in disbelief. “That— that doesn’t make any sense. He was trying to help. I don’t understand.”

“Satoru, you’ve lived among sorcerers all your life, praised for being a sorcerer. Out there, being a sorcerer is frowned upon. There is a reason we go out of our way to keep the sorcery world hidden, it’s complicated. And that is why I insist you need to learn how to conjure a veil.” The boy crumpled in his seat at this, and Masamichi knew exactly why. But he wouldn’t touch on that subject now and lose his train of thought, so he continued his speech instead. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do want you to know… this is the kind of person that Geto is. He could’ve killed that policeman, but he didn’t. And he saved many villagers, even when he was punished and bullied for it. So next time you think that he’s being fake just because he’s being nice to you, maybe think again.”

“I—” Gojo’s gaze remained low, thoughtful. “I didn’t know…”

“And you couldn’t have. Actually, you’re not supposed to.” Yaga brought a hand to his face and sighed into it. “He asked me not to tell anyone about his life before coming here, because he wanted to start from zero. His parents disowned him and cut all ties with him when I told them he was a sorcerer.”

Gojo dropped on his chair again, running a hand through his troubled face. “Oh, shit…”

“Satoru, language.”

“I’m sorry, I just— I feel stupid. I said something awful,” he brought both palms over his eyes now in shame. “Oh, god, I told him to ‘go home to his mommy’... and so many nasty things like that…” he looked up at him, eyes glazed with guilt, his eyebrows furrowed. “ Sensei , I really didn’t know…”

“Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“But I want to say sorry—”

“Promise me, Satoru.”

“Ugh. Fine.” He lowered his hands and breathed deeply. “I promise.”

“Alright.” Yaga said, grabbing his pen again. “You may go now.”

“What, now? What about detention?”

Yaga relaxed back into his chair with an audible sigh. “I think you already learned your lesson today.”

The boy’s gaze remained low. He sat there in silence for another moment before he moved to the door, and just as silently he took his leave.

“Satoru,” Yaga called just as he exited the office, the boy stopped, but he did not turn. “We all make mistakes. Don’t overthink it.”

From: Our Last Summer by Naus on A03

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hello Wendy!!!! Congratulations on your 1k! You deserve it and I hope for many more followers for you. May I request a Priest Suguru x Goddess (pantheon) f! reader with sinful touch? I would also like to write something for your event if you allow me to ❤️❤️❤️ Once again, congratulationnnns

I love this idea! Here goes nothing (Thank you for requesting bby)!

Beloved: Priest!Geto Suguru x Fem!Goddess!Reader

wc: 1.3k

tw: fluff (based on the second part of your request in my inbox)

1K Follower Event Masterlist

"You're quiet tonight," you whisper, trailing your fingers along your favorite priest's jawline. "You're not even playing the lyre. What's on your mind?"

Suguru takes your hand and kisses each one of your fingers, then touches your nose with his index finger.

"Nothing," he lies, and you frown, humming softly.

"You're not being truthful."

"I know." You raise up on an elbow and look down at Geto in the moonlight, your hair falling over your shoulder. "I'm not sure I want to discuss it right now." You sigh, leaning down to kiss his lips before the stars begin to call your name, their twinkling like chimes in your ears.

"I'll wait for you to talk about it when you're ready." And with those words, you vanish into thin air, becoming a mass of shimmering particles that Suguru always reaches out to touch after you've gone.

And you don't tell him where you go. But you do tell him when you'll go.

It's always been this way. Ever since Suguru was a child who washed up on your temple steps like a lost piece of a ship and you were just beginning your eternal existence, you'd been attached at the hip.

From friends to lovers, it had all been so seamless. He was your human lover, and you would spend your days with him, exploring all of the things humanity had to give you. Which admittedly, wasn't much, but he still managed to make life exciting. And at night, you would whisk yourself back to the palace of your father, sitting at his feet while he grew old and lost his sight to the endless years of watching over his subjects.

"Y/n," your father whispers this night.

"Yes?"

"I am growing old. Soon, you will take my place as the goddess of humanity, and I will retire to the Fields of the Aged, like my father, and his father before him." Your first thought is of Suguru, and the idea of abandoning him is akin to the taste of metal in your mouth. Unpleasant.

"Father, why not allow Minerva to take your place?" you wonder, placing a hand on his wrinkled knee. "She is wise, and older, and much more equipped to be--"

"You are more beloved among the people. Minerva is also a wife, and a mother." And you are neither of these things. Your father does not say it, but you know that's what he is implying. And even though you are sitting at his feet on the heavenly dais, you cannot find the strength to argue that you're merely a goddess of dance and festivals, not an omnipotent ruler.

_____________________________________________________________

And when you return to Suguru, it seems he is more withdrawn than usual, his eyes never once looking at you as he goes about his chores in the temple.

At the fifth hour of this treatment, you stand, walking over to him and placing a hand on his back.

"Look at me." Suguru turns his head, but his eyes do not connect with your face at all. "Please, look at me." And he does for a brief moment, his hands dropping the towels to the freshly cleaned floor. "What is the matter?"

"You know the Oracle speaks for your father here on earth." You straighten up, walking over to his side and looking into his dark, brooding eyes. "And I heard what he is planning." You swallow hard, then grip both of his arms with an intensity you've never expressed to him in your current form.

"It will all be okay," you reassure him as his eyes cloud with sorrow. "I am not leaving you." He politely removes your hands from his bare arms, shaking his head.

"But I will die. And you will only be able to watch from the heavens."

"My father is not changing power to me for another thousand years," you mention nervously. Your hands shake as Suguru backs away from you, his hair blowing in the wind coming in from the open window.

"You don't know that. You don't know that." And he turns to leave the temple, hurriedly walking away with only the clothes on his back.

_____________________________________________________________

You lay at the foot of your father's throne, eyes welling up with tears for the third time in an hour.

"Father, please! I need you to help me find my priest. He has gone missing!"

Your father wets his lips, beginning to speak, but your sister cuts him off.

"For what? For him to die? Loving a human is not wise, little sister. They all have such short lives." You want to snap at your older sister, but your father speaks, his voice old and worn like an oft-read scroll.

"If I give you the power of the Sight, you will not be able to revoke it. All of the things that come with it will be granted to you in time, but the All-Sight is a powerful gift only to be used when it is necessary."

"Please," you choke out. "I need him." Your father stretches his hand forward, and without touching you, a ball of white light floats from his fingertips to your forehead, soaking in slowly. You don't immediately feel anything, eyes remaining unchanged, but then you begin to see everything. Everything.

The world is a blur, but you can see the gods of the past roaming around the heavenly halls, the future gods bumping into each other and starting fights, and the present all at the same time.

You scream out in terror, crawling back on your hands and feet and backing into a wall, still hollering in fear.

"Y/N!" a voice calls to you, and you can see fragments of your sister floating around in your field of vision. "Y/N! Focus on me, focus on the sound of my voice. Bring yourself back to the present. Bring yourself back."

But the images do not cease, and endless versions of the future play out while the past is unwoven and rewoven over and over again at the same time. You're stuck there, eyes flicking back and forth between the scenes before you can't tell what time is anymore. Then, it all goes dark.

_____________________________________________________________

A song is being played.

It's soft, and the sound of the stringed instrument is familiar...

In what life did you become accustomed to hearing the lyre?

The past? The present? Or--

Words drift into the ether, and you find your lips mouthing the love song, and your fingers twitch along with the plucked notes. When the song is over, you gather your strength to open your eyes but find them sealed quite shut.

"I love you." A kiss is placed on both of them, and then a kiss is placed on your lips with care before your lover stands up to leave.

"No..." you moan, and a sharp inhale is heard.

"What did you say?"

"Stay." Suguru walks back, then touches your cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you." When your eyes can finally open, you take in the absolute normalcy of your vision, and your head swims as you try to focus on Suguru's worried face.

"You came back..." you croak, and Suguru looks away sheepishly.

"Your sister came to get me. You were in terrible shape when I arrived, but..." He holds up the lyre. "Music seemed to help."

"Where did you go?" you wonder, but the throbbing headache stops you from inquiring further. "Nevermind. My head hurts..."

"Rest," Suguru encourages you, pulling your sheets around your figure. It's only when you lay back on your pillows that you realize you're not in the temple. You shoot up in the bed, eyes wide.

"Wait, you cannot be here; you'll d--"

"Die?" Suguru wonders, raising a brow. "Good thing that's not an issue for us." Us?

"Suguru, what--"

"Your father is very gracious," he murmurs, smiling widely. "I suppose being your favorite priest is enough to grant you eternity." You lay back on the pillows again at Suguru's guidance, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now, seriously. Rest. We have all eternity to figure out, and I'm not wasting a single day."