the-proper-possum

[the-proper-possum]

[the-proper-possum]

[the-proper-possum]

[the-proper-possum]

Monitoring

Gojo version (x) ♡

[the-proper-possum]

Halloween is over but what are your thoughts on ghostface jjk man x chubby reader? 👀

tw dub-con / knifeplay

its more than just being the final girl—watching you behind a cheap mask he's bought. for hours, for days, over the course of long, long, months. hiding in dark corners, and hidden spaces—the things he's planned aren't to be wasted on some brutal, violent death. stabbing and slashing. because as you lay on soft pillows and pressed sheets, curves and folds on display, so oblivious, so unassuming...he's dying to sink more than just a knife into all that flesh.

not to hurt you of course, but what is he to do when he's got killer instinct and your body was made to be held, fondled....claimed. there's only so much a man can resist.

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when geto asks "what are you wearing?" over the phone, his words hold some amusement to them, mocking. almost like he knows you're scared. yet somewhat ...mellow, trusting...and so hot it flays you, a heat traveling low and dipping in your stomach, fear and arousal jumbled up in one, searing in your belly.

your breath hitches at the sound of his muffled laugh crackling through the speaker. you could just indulge yourself in this little game he plays, no harm would ever come to you. this way, you could ignore the insecurities and the nerves. relish in anonymity. and every second you keep him waiting to expose you for the depraved thing that you are, getting wet and drooly over a stranger, a dark, mysterious, and very sexy stranger, you realize how pathetic, how cliched you're being. "i can hear how turned on you are..." he's so right it's embarrassing.

when he's looming above you the next day, there's no time wasted. he angles your toy against a sensitive spot and you feel it nudge and grind deep inside, keeps sliding it up and down your folds, "that's it, feel that? you should see how wet you are," your shaky thighs spread open, pussy sticky and gleaming with cum, so slick, so slippery, every pass of the toy on your slit jolting you closer to release.

"you don't want to kill me..." you say in a daze. turning your head to the side, you moan into the sheets, it's too much, your ghost caller watching you, playing with you, withholding and keeping you from reaching your peak. you know the things he could do...there's no need to see his face or learn his name to realise he's a little bit of a bully like that. teasing you, edging you, that you'd only come by his hand. beautiful gloved hands that are larger than two of yours put together.

"and why is that?" geto coos, wanting to wrap a fist around your exposed neck, untouched and unmarred, just waiting to be marked. you wish to tell him that you'd do anything, pleading for your life, but that coil in your stomach twists, adrenaline egging you on, allowing you to be a little bolder, "you need me...don't you? you need me to be yours," you whimper out the challenge. fingers reaching up to hook in between his mask and face, bringing him closer to you, before you press a kiss to where his mouth would be. feeling only hard plastic and his hot, sighing breaths underneath.

you see his shoulders tense, your toy dropping to the side of the bed, forgotten and whirring. he's left so stunned. and it's this that you earn—his lips barely forming a reply, no sly smirks or subtle jabs to your pride, just the sound of his ragged breaths that fill the room and the slick, measured pumps of his fist over his cock, thumb spreading the fluid that leaks, drools, literally pools over your stomach—"you have no fucking idea..." he groans, his resolve vanishing, his smugness stripped away the more you moan for him, why do you tease him so. these hairline cracks you'd spotted and split right down the middle with merely a gentle touch at where he's the weakest...geto's only so strong, frustrated at his own need for your willingness, your eager soft hands that trail up and down his biceps. who dares to pet a wild animal, reaching out without fear of getting trapped in sharp jaws.

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sukuna's not as weak. he's been on the hunt for years, trying to curb his appetite for murder with whatever nameless faces he deemed uninteresting, had them piled up and ready to be disposed of without so much as another glance. he's bored...terribly so, and starving, salivating, for the perfect kill. only now he thinks otherwise when a newfound purpose reveals itself in the shape of you.

if only you'd been careful, if only you'd been cautious. maybe then, you wouldn't be pinned below the stranger in a mask, the cold edge of his knife perched against the jugular as your jaw starts to bruise from his tight grasp. "im keeping you," he merely states, "you're gonna be mine forever, you hear me?" he start kissing the side of your face, sloppily, messily. you don't see his face but you imagine he'd look like a monster, with sharp teeth and a hundred eyes, maybe four or six hands the way he's gripping and touching you everywhere, trying to get his fill of you. his cock thick and large and splitting you in half, almost as if he had two.

"you don't have to do this," you sob, feeling another orgasm rock through you. you squeeze down on him, your slick coating everywhere. oh you smell like sweat and fear and he doesn't care one bit that tears stream down your face, swollen lips trembling. a face pressed into the pillows that bear a muddled expression.

under the weight of his hulking body from above, you know there's no way of escaping his clutches, your moans turn guttural, "i can't, it's too much..." you whine, hands coming up to push him away, to clutch at his chest behind you, tapping out from the overstimulation. he's rubbing against a spot so sensitive, pounding right into it. you think you'd go crazy, "please...i've been good..." you whine, voice pitching into a drawn-out moan, "been so good for you," pleading and pleading. you don't think it was the best choice of words, but in the haze of pleasure, you could only persuade him with obedience. with submission.

it does nothing to deter him from his ministrations, chuckling at the way your voice breaks, the way you look a mess, coming undone and staining your sheets, the thin line of blood dribbling from your neck. "just one more yeah?" he coos, "i know...i know it feels good, you're starting to fall in love with it aren't you?" he starts going faster, building to his climax, and you gasp in surprise when he shifts his position to collapse onto your back. his arms hugging you around the middle as he continues to jerk his hips erratically.

you don't say anything in return, but you do give in...teeth biting down on your pillow the moment your orgasm hits you, legs shaking and his spurting dick lodged deep inside you.

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gojo's completely obsessed. and you don't notice it at first because his personality covers up most of his hidden intentions, concealing that part of him that's been following your every move, trailing after you and waiting for a moment to strike...he gets personal because satoru's always been like that, needy, clingy, and he knows there's no need for the mask, you'd know it was him, but he likes it that way. relishes the moment you grapple with feeling betrayed by a man you trusted. says it's your fault really for being way too closed-minded. "what was it you said? that i wouldn't be into big girls?" he laughs, sounding crazed, frenzied.

"i thought you knew me better..." he tuts, keeps his hands busy in the meantime by wrapping rope around your wrists, weaving it across your tits, crisscrossing down your stomach, and circling around your thick thighs. his fingers knot and loop the bright red rope with practiced ease, making a pattern across your body with just the right amount of tension, just enough that it wouldn't cut into your skin...but he makes no promises.

stepping back, he tugs at the base of his rig above you, just for precaution, but he knows you'll stay right where you are for however long he wants. no, you're not gonna fall, he knows that's what you're thinking about despite it having to be the last of your priorities.

"look at you..." he marvels at his handiwork. your legs spread for him, feet dangling and having no leverage. with arms tied behind your back, he gets to see how lovely your tits look when spilling from beneath the rope, although...he'd say the best part is seeing his blindfold tied around your mouth as a makeshift gag.

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and choso's just...sweet isn't he..so keen, so restless. he promises he won't hurt you, he just wants a taste, to know what it feels like. and you'd dare him to but he's not made to kill and he knows it. it's why his knife stays loose and forgotten in his hand when he greets the sight of you behind a door left ajar.

the creaking hinge, his heavy boots, and the harsh pull of his breaths are all enough to send goosebumps rising. slow and measured, his feet come to a halt at the foot of your bed. he thinks you did it on purpose. doors and windows left unlocked and your curtains so sheer it's no wonder he's made to be an audience to your little peep shows every night. "you knew i've been watching you..." he whispers, realization hits—and surprisingly, you think you hear the petulance in his voice, like he was pouting. actually pouting.

and you see it first when he takes off the mask. face awestruck from watching you lay back, your eyes meeting his stare from between the swell of your breasts, your tummy, suddenly his face has a lot more life in it, dark circles meeting the reddening edge of his blushing cheek, pale lips wet and drooling, his tongue slipping past, inching closer. "please....please," is such a lovely sound when it slips past them, frenzied and feverish, words he can barely get a hold of before you feel it curling around your bones, wheedling its way into your heart, and squeezing tight. wanting to give in to the man who creeps from afar, who can't stop following and tracing your every move.

your eyes roll back when your folds part under the wet muscle, warm and slick. and it's not a secret by now that you're not as shy as you seem to be. he's mesmerized, transfixed. is this the same woman he's been spying on...always keeping to herself, getting her life together, with prim and proper clothing and a nine-to-five job...now wrapped in nothing but moonlight and presenting yourself to him, legs spreading to reveal the wet that sticks to your folds, hardening nub that twitches at your touch, at the circles and gentle flicks against your clit. your eyes stay fixed on his, wordlessly giving him permission almost as if you've been waiting for him. he wonders if it's just as long as he's been wanting you.

[the-proper-possum]

RETURN THE FAVOR? ft. BULLY! SUGURU

— minors dni, throatfucking, blowjob, bully! suguru x fem! reader, exhibitionism, ft. satoru, degradation(slut, cumdump), dubcon, pet names (puppy, good girl, sweetheart ), praise, one mention of photography at the end

wc 1.5k

Most people would be elated if they had twisted an ankle and a strong, kind man offered to carry them out of the goodness of his heart. But you are not most people, and Geto is not a kind man.

“You could look a little more grateful,” he scoffs in that condescending, hushed tone of his, “unless you’d rather walk yourself.”

Geto stops in his tracks, directly a mildly disdainful stare down at you. Snorting, you blink through doe eyes and thick lashes, head shaking in vexation, and you just don’t know how you make Geto’s dick stir in his pants.

You huff, nose wrinkled. “I already said thank you, what else do you want from me?”

“Less attitude, for one.,” Geto nonchalantly replies. “Hmm, and maybe a favor in return? That’s usually what most people offer when someone does something for them.”

A sigh as you glare at him, unamused, and heart rate picking up. “Again, what do you want from me?”

You yelp, arms tightening around his neck as he threatens to drop you, and Geto chuckles at your gape at the concrete path. “Last time I tell you to watch your mouth, or you can find your own way back to your dorm.”

The way your eyes widen at the thought of a difficult, isolated trek back to your room in pitch blackness is cute in Geto’s eyes. Not that he’d make good on that threat, Satoru would probably kill him five times over. But if your naivety kept you in line for now, so be it.

“Fine.,” you relent. “But I don’t know what you want, so please just tell me.”

His eyes wander down to your breast, straining against the woolen sweater clinging to your body, faint nubs poking through from your hardened nipples in the cold. Next, eyeing the quivering downturn of your lips, an idea jumps to the forefront of his mind.

“How about putting that pretty mouth to good use?”

Your jaw goes slack, hands immediately clammy with sweat. You lace and unlace fingers together, eyes never leaving Geto’s steady gaze as you doubt what you just heard. Your suspicions are confirmed when he paces over to a lonely bench along the path, promptly setting you down and shoving his hands in his pockets to take a seat next to you.

“C’mon, now.” Baggy clothes ruffling to break the silence, Geto reclining back to spread his legs for you. “You wanna make it back or not? I have somewhere to be.”

Another lie, just to rush things ahead. You shuffle nervously, glance back and forward between him and the ominous dark path that leads to your dorm building. As if on cue, a sharp pain shoots through your injured ankle, you hesitating once more before sighing in defeat. You maneuver into a more comfortable position, hands kneading over Geto’s muscled thigh, and your tongue flits over your bottom lip in rising anxiety. Dragging the waistband of his sweats down, he utters a ‘good girl’ as his hardening cock is tugged free of it’s confines, standing at attention and only growing larger by the second. Your eyes grow wide in awe at the massive appendage before you. Sure, you’ve seen Geto’s dick before, him impaling you on it whenever he and Gojo so chose to use you for their own needs, but taking it in now, up close…you suddenly yearn for the unhinging jaw of a snake.

He lets out a low groan as you wrap a hand around the base of his cock. It’s stiff and heavy on your palm, dribbling absurd amounts of precum down onto your hand. With one last glance towards Geto, you loll out your tongue, a hiss seeping through his teeth as you kitten lick the fat, red tip. You ignore the saltiness on your tongue as you lick up and around his cock, massaging the bottom with both hands, before extending your jaw to take him into your awaiting mouth.

“Ah, f—fuck,” he rasps out a shaky breath, a hand coming to tangle in your hair and push you down a little further.

A concoction of spit and precum trails down his dick to messily coat your hands, loud, sloppy sounds of him in your mouth filling the empty silence of the vacant campus. For once, you’re glad to be left alone with someone like Geto. The thought of being caught out in the open doing such a thing is mortifying.

You choke, whine a loud ‘hmph!’ as he thrusts up into you, plunging himself deeper into between your lips. The thick, dripping head of his cock nudges at the back of your throat, and you fight to stop the sharp jerks of your body when gagging around him.

“Shit, you feel so good.,” Geto sighs, head thrown back as he trails fingers through your hair. “Fuck, deeper.”

And you oblige, fighting back tears as you greedily suck in more and more of him, bobbing and twisting your head up and down the mass of his length. You edge a hand further into his pants, toying with the heavy weight of his balls and you’re somewhat pleased when that drives a whine out of him. It takes all your willpower not to keep your eyes on Geto for too long, but wow, if he doesn’t look absolutely gorgeous; the nearby pole light casts a soft, golden hue onto his skin, perfectly accentuating his parted lips, the redness crept up to his ears, a light sheen of sweat on his handsome face. Every sneaky glance at him has your pussy growing wetter.

A shock runs through your body at the sound of a piercing tone, and you’re halfway up his cock before Geto’s hand stiffens against the back of your head to keep you in place. He barely casts you a glance before pulling his phone out from his pocket.

“Relax.,” he reassures. “ ‘S nothing, keep going.”

He pushes you back down on his dick before slotting the phone between his shoulder and ear, other hand running down his thigh. You don’t know for sure who he’s talking to, but the familiarity of the conversation leads you to assume it’s Gojo.

Geto sighs. “What are you, my wife? I’ll be there in a bit, jeez.”

He moves to wipe a couple tears from your face, fingers running over the swell of your cheek in a somewhat comforting way. You risk a look up at Geto to find him already staring down at you. There’s traces of annoyance weaved through the pleasure on his face.

“Okay, Satoru, bye.,” he blurts out and hangs up the phone, mumbling,“He talks so much, just told him I’m busy.”

Geto shoves the device back into his pocket, both hands taking place on the side of your head. “Got a party to go to, so I’m afraid I’ll have to make this quick.”

You don’t have a chance to prepare as Geto bucks his hips into your mouth, shoving you down to bury his cock halfway down your throat. You yelp out in shock, squeezing fists around his thighs as he thrusts upwards into your mouth. His head falls back over the end of the bench, messy strands slipping from his hair tie as he abuses your mouth.

Curses quietly spill from Geto’s lips. “F– fuck, love this fucking mouth, ‘m so close.” He cracks open an eye to peer at you, grunting and squealing from the assault of his length and it’s a sight to behold. “Gonna stuff this tight throat with my cum, you want that?”

Your cunt tightens around nothing, dripping and aching for some kind of relief, and you whimper at him in response.

“Yeah, ‘course you do.,” Geto chuckles between groans. “Little slut, you love when Satoru and I fill you up, don’t you? Our little cumdump, always–, fuck, sucking us dr–y like a good girl, huh?”

You can barely hear his desperate rambling over the loud smacks of his pelvis to your face, wet and obscene ‘plap, plap’s, both throat and jaw sore and aching from the needy thrusts of his hips. Geto fucks into your mouth a few times more, before holding your head to the base of his groin, hips shivering and you feel the twitch of his cock before he’s spilling cum down your throat.

“Ahh, fuck…,” Geto groans loudly as he paints your throat with thick ropes of cum, all of which you swallow heartily even if you can’t help it. His arms fall limp to his side, chest heaving as he takes a moment to catch his breath.

You slide his softening cock from the heat of your throat, carefully and quietly tucking him back into his boxers and sweats. Geto watches you massage over your sore throat, and raises a hand to tap at your lips.

“Open wide, sweetheart.,” and you obey without question.

He studies your mouth, thumb on your tongue, and is pleased to see not a single drop of him has been wasted. “Fuck, good slut.”

Geto again pulls his phone out from his pocket, quickly taking a picture of his fingers still in your mouth before roughly patting your cheek. “Gonna show Satoru what a good puppy you were for me.”

[the-proper-possum]

— soft yandere suguru geto pt 1 —

-> building the story in this one. warnings: none! the reader meets suguru for the first time since her best friend was encapsulated by a curse causing nightmares and issues. it’s fluffy <3

suguru had one goal — irradicate the non-sorcerers so there comes to be a world without curses. satoru on the other hand wanted to make people capable enough to fight the curses. the goal was same - a world where curses don’t exist anymore. suguru was hell-bent on achieving that of course. gaining fame as ‘geto sama’ a monk-looking saintly human being who helps people. the backgrounds are for suguru to handle anyways - he needed curses to get powerful & eventually achieve his goals.

his hatred for monkeys was unsubstantiated. no one who was not in control of their cursed energies would be spared by suguru geto. he didn’t even spare his parents. though he knows certain monkeys are slightly more valuable than others. some are his banks, some give him curses to swallow. and some are the ones who have no control of their CE and end up attracting higher curses/creating them.

what he didn’t take into account was you. your best friend was tormented by sickening nightmares of being non-conned almost everyday. aches in the back, cramping and utter pain during her period. you had almost given up — as her roommate, you had searched all psychologists; all doctors. nothing seems to be working. until one day — you found a ‘monkey’ treated by none other than geto sama.

without wasting time, you believed their gratefulness and their willingness to lend you the address. since nothing is working — you will definitely try anything at this point.

the moment your car landed on the geto estate you knew this man was no joke. why else would he be able to afford something like this otherwise? on the other hand — you were suspicious as to his ulterior motives. what if he was a mafia boss or something? who knew. finally, after some wait; you were advised to follow the instructor who led you to suguru geto.

he sat there, a merry & a friendly smile over his face. something that’s practised even as he talks to your friend. “yumiko san.” he grins, “you have symptoms like rape nightmares, don’t you? you feel like you’re being touched in the wrong places & there’s nothing you can do about it?” your best friend teared up, she had never felt so intricately seen and heard the way geto had made her feel. he raised a hand, and the curse that was latched into her, unseen by you. unseen by her.. latched itself into suguru’s hand.

she instantly felt lighter & felt better. while you were extremely considerate of what suguru geto did, you were not pleased. what even was that — you and your best friend bowed and on your way to leave. you turned back, “what did you do?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“ah, i have god’s grace in my hands thankfully. nothing much. prayed on her behalf that her problems go away. little one.” he hums, monkeys are usually dumb enough to be happy-go-lucky with the treatment. you weren’t. suguru hums, “if that’d be all, you may leave. i have other things to cater to.”

your siren eyes met his own, deep down. you could sense suguru hated your best friend. it was just a hunch— the vibes were so off. you hum, “what do you practise then? what form of meditation?” you crossed your arms, eagerly wagering for more answers on his behalf.

suguru chuckled in disbelief, an insignificant, puny monkey was asking ‘him’ questions? “be grateful and leave.” he said dismissively. and your best friend held your wrist, dragging you outside. you were adorable and so curious. pity you were just an ordinary, low-class monkey.

“he’s a scammer, a fraud! i’m fucking sure! let’s go to a doctor.” you scoffed, gritting your teeth. glaring daggers at the man who laid down in front of you on a stage, seemingly uninterested. suguru wanted to play with you too, the same curse that was latched onto your friend, he transferred it into you, going out. now you’d have the same symptoms and suffer. shouldn’t have voiced your shit so hard, tsk…

unfortunately for suguru, you ended up like one of those who can see curses once subjected to cursed energy. you screamed gutterally when you saw the hideous creature attached to you. an amused smirk ran past his lips at the way you tried to shove it away. your friend was in utter confusion — what did she do? got on her knees and apologized on your behalf to ‘geto sama’ who promised to treat you. and forgive you of course. forcing her to leave.

you screeched curses and profanities at suguru, who was more than pleased to see you hit some sort of a standard he has for people he’s allowed to care about. his hand touched your crotch, right where the curse was supposed to be holding, unconcerned with your flustered resistance as he absorbed it.

“there we go, little girl.” he smiled, while you watched the curse turn into a ball. “this is the thing that was latched onto your friend. normal humans can’t see these. some of them can. i can.” you sat next to him and asked him a multitude of questions about this. you don’t remember the last time you had talked to someone this much & suguru doesn’t remember the last time he was so thoughtless. he was observing literally everything. your facial features, the way your brows scrunched when you emphasized over something, how you overcommunicated with your hands at times, rolled your eyes ever so often and shook your legs while you asked questions and waited eagerly for your answers. you blinked and your lashes looked so long and luscious, your hair suited you just well. he wonders how your soft looking skin would look all marked up with hickeys. he wonders how your voice would sound when you would moan or scream out his name. he wonders how his name would sound. how your lips would curve a certain way to pronounce ‘suguru’. oh he’s slowly losing his mind isn’t he?

he asked you to stay the night and join for dinner since it was quite late because of everything he just told you. you of course obliged and met his adopted daughters, miguel and the others who he called family. holy fuck they worshipped him. you knew that because of the way they respected you — treated you as their own because suguru said you are a guest today. his daughters were bratty but they knew their limits; seems like suguru raised them well.

after dinner, you joined him for a walk outside, pouting and flushed because he wasn’t wearing his gojo-gesa anymore. he almost looks so normal with that. “you aren’t an actual monk are you?” you raised a brow, grinning when he shook his head in denial. “no, i’m just here to collect cursed spirits because of my technique for a greater cause.” he hums; replying gently and looking deeply into your inquisitive eyes. you threw another question at him, seemingly obvious. “what greater cause?” you tilt your head like an indulged bird, and he caught that gesture. “want to know everything at once? hmm? little bird.” he smiled, looking relaxed and like a normal human being. “i’ll let you know with time.”

you had a peaceful and a sound sleep, why? because you were unaware how suguru watched you sleep in awe. just thinking of the ways he would watch you smile again, just thinking how he could make you feel special again? he can brain wash you into thinking humans are detestable, no?

the next morning, you were called for breakfast and had a great time, making promises to visit again while suguru bid you a farewell by kissing your knuckles. looking ever so charming. oh you will visit again, otherwise suguru geto would: either way… your red thread of fate was sealed.

suguru geto had a little crush…

or was he in love?

[the-proper-possum]

✎ . . .❝DOESN’T FEEL LONG ENOUGH TO ME…❞

—minors dni, suggestive, 7 minutes in heaven, bully! suguru x reader, light biting/hickeys, jealous! bully! satoru at the end + in the bonus lolz, grinding??

Your vision is filled with pitch-black darkness, muffled sounds of partygoers outside just reaching your ears.

“Why did you force me to do this again?”

The amusement in Geto’s chuckle is evident. “I think you were peer pressured into this, actually.”

Him and his smart-ass mouth. “You just stay over there on your side.”

There’s an immediate rustling of fabric, and you can sense that Geto’s definitely gotten closer. You’d back away if you weren’t already flat against the opposite wall.

“What the hell did I just say?”

Your eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness, but you look at where you think he is. His outline isn't even visible, but you can just feel the mischievous smirk on his face. There’s silence for a few more seconds, and then more rustling of fabric before you feel the heat of his body on yours.

“Cut it out!,” you frown and shove at Geto. He doesn’t even stumble, and your pathetic attempt at moving him brings small bouts of laughter from his lips.

“Haven’t even done anything.,” his voice is a murmur right in front of you and you flinch at the warmth of his breath on your face.

“Y-you being this close is enough.” You cringe at the stutter in your voice. No way you were getting nervous around this man.

You feel his hands glide up your thighs, brushing by your short skirt to take purchase on the fat of your hips. Geto’s presence engulfs you; in the darkness you can sense his large figure towering over your own. Just his pacifying company and the heavenly, rich smell of his cologne is intoxicating. You hate the dizziness it puts in your head.

“This 7 minutes is taking forever.,” you mutter.

He gives a lighthearted huff, and your body tenses as Geto’s breath glides over your neck.

“Doesn’t feel long enough to me.,” he barely whispers into your neck.

“Don’t.,” you warn. Your hands halfheartedly press against his broad chest. “Wait.”

You shudder as his lips brush over your collarbone. “…Waiting.”

The moisture in your throat dries up, all that escapes is a choked gasp. His knee slowly maneuvers its way between your thighs, and you instinctively relax atop his leg. A minute passes, and Geto squeezes your hips impatiently, shuffles closer to pin you firmly against the wall. He slowly begins grinding you over his thigh, and an airy moan escapes you as Geto massages your heat against him. At the same time you feel something hard press against your lower stomach. You make any attempt to force out a sentence, only for a small whine to come out when he roughly sucks a spot on your neck, and then places a featherlight kiss over it.

“G-geto–“

A harsh knock interrupts whatever you were gonna say. Geto smirks against your skin at the annoyed, familiar voice right outside the door.

“Hey!,” Gojo shouts over loud music, and impatiently pounds on the door again. “7 minutes is up, get outta there!”

— BONUS :3

Geto pulls back from you, and you rush to open the door. Through the haze of your mind and the strobing party lights, you can make out Gojo in front of you with a pout and arms crossed. Geto ushers your staggering form from the closet with a hand on your lower back, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"What did you do to them?," Gojo huffs to his friend.

You're about to stumble into the crowd when Gojo grabs your wrists and yanks you back towards him. He tosses another accusatory glance at Geto before studying your body. Mind just clearing up, you find the energy to glare at the man again holding you hostage. You watch his gaze glide up and down your body, before halting to a spot on your neck. His bright blue eyes squint for a second, before widening in shock.

Gojo turns to look at Geto. "What is that?"

The aforementioned, long-haired man has just slipped away into the crowd, and Gojo's grip tightens on your wrist as he watches Geto's head drift further and further away into the sea of people. You wonder what he's so pissed about.

[the-proper-possum]

Sweet

SatoSugu x gn!reader

Day 15 ― Corruption Kink TW: NSFW, innocent and oblivious reader, fantasies, mentions of masturbation words: 331

Geto and Gojo are absolutely infatuated with their sweet little Kohai.

And who could blame them? You're so fucking cute ― your cheeks flushing bright red whenever they pay you the slightest bit of attention, stumbling over your words with a sheepish smile and a whiny 'senpai.'

It only makes them want to tease you more. They can tell you find them attractive; how you stare at them when they return from missions, the way you giggle when one of them drapes their arm over your shoulder.

They like you, you want them: getting into a relationship should be the most obvious answer.  

But you're so innocent, it's almost infuriating.

They have flirted with you for months; have dropped the most obvious hints that they're interested in you. Hell, they've even asked you out on a date. But you just blush, laughing and brushing off their words as jokes.

It's amazing how something could be so endearing yet so damn frustrating at the same time.

They want nothing more than to make you realize just how much they need you. You're so naive, unexperienced, but they could fix that. They want to show you a whole new world.

To tell you about all the times they've gotten off to the thought of you sandwiched between them, begging for them to fuck you. That they've imagined how your lips would feel against theirs, how they've dreamed of bringing you over the edge over and over again.

You're so adorable; they doubt you've even touched yourself before. They're positive you're a virgin; maybe they'd even be your first kiss. Just the thought sends a jolt of pleasure up their spine. They could teach you about pleasure: make you crave it. They want nothing more.

But they can't. They know it would be wrong; they care too much about you to push you into it.  

So for now, they just get off at the thought of it and hope that one day you'll notice.

[the-proper-possum]

Y/N: You’re the moon because you’re really pale, and deep down you’re dark.

Geto: …

Y/N: And I’m the sun because I’m bright, and happy.

Geto: You’re the sun because no one wants to fucking look at you directly.

[the-proper-possum]

| And he laughs at all my jokes |

Geto doesn't know how you could be so clueless about his feelings towards you.

Geto doesn’t know how you could be so clueless about his feelings.

You tell a joke, something silly, something you probably came up with on the spot, and he laughs. The sound is rich and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

It’s not that funny. He knows it’s not, judging by the deadpan looks Shoko and Satoru throw his way from the corner of his eye, but he can’t help himself.

Because it’s you.

And you smile like his laughter is the best thing you’ve ever heard, utterly oblivious to the way his heart trips over itself every time you look his way.

"You're the only one who gets my humor, Sugu. These guys are just wet blankets."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a soft grin. "Yeah?"

"Mhm! You get me. Hey… let’s make a pact."

He can’t stop the affection that bubbles up when you move your seat closer, all but invading his personal space and linking your arm with his. As if that action alone didn’t already have him picking out names for your future kids.

"Let’s look out for each other. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine. Deal?"

How can he resist you when you’re smiling at him like that, proposing this lighthearted promise?

"Sure thing angel" He smiles at you like you hung the stars, interlacing your hands and gently tapping your nose with his fingertip.

Your laugh rings out, carefree and beautiful, and Geto wonders, how long will it take for you to realize that, pact or not, you’ve always had his heart?

Check out more of my other jjk fics and other stories!

[the-proper-possum]

Making my big debut with King Geto ☺️

[the-proper-possum]

Gojo's birthday art fucking kills me

He just looks like. "Look at all my hoes. I get SO many bitches"

Like

LOOK AT HIS ARM AROUND NANAMI. AND HIS OTHER ARM RESTING ON GETO

LOOOOOOOKKK

Born to shoujo forced to shonen.

[the-proper-possum]

Work Rivals with Office Siren!Suguru Getou

Getou Suguru is the worst.

The absolute worst. He makes your life a living hell, your job a warzone, and worst of all, he’s the most maddeningly attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You hadn’t always been mortal enemies. In fact, your first impression of him was something out of a cheesy rom-com.

On your first day as a junior accountant, you stopped by a local coffee shop to grab a medium, hot, cream, no sugar. The moment your order was called, both you and a sharply dressed man stepped up to the counter.

The first thing you noticed was his height—towering enough to make you tilt your head back. On the way up, you took in his impeccably tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, and slim black tie. His sleeves were neatly cuffed at the wrists, revealing a deep bronze complexion adorned with a flashy silver Rolex and a few understated rings.

When your gaze finally reached his face, your breath hitched. He was striking. Long black hair tied back in a half-up style, sharp cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Black gauges and a gleaming silver eyebrow piercing accentuated his features, and a pair of rectangular glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose. He eyed you with an air of irritation, violet eyes glinting behind the glare of the café lights.

“Is this yours?” he asked, gesturing to the coffee being held out by an increasingly impatient barista.

You had a perfectly charming response prepared in your head. But as luck would have it, your brain short-circuited, and what came out instead was less… ideal.

“Why else would I be here? Course it’s mine. It’s my first day, and you’re holding me up.”

The sharpness in your tone made you wince internally, but you couldn’t backtrack now. Crossing your arms, you tilted your head, doubling down.

His brows knit together as he huffed. “Could’ve done without the attitude. Just take it and go.”

You grabbed the coffee with a muttered, “Whatever,” and turned on your heel, heading for the door. But before it swung shut, you glanced over your shoulder at the disgruntled stranger. At least you’d never have to see him again, right?

Wrong.

When you arrived at work and sat through the orientation, you focused on staying out of trouble. That plan went out the window when you were led to your cubicle—right across from a familiar face.

Your guide tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and when his eyes met yours, surprise flickered for the briefest moment before being replaced by irritation.

“—and this is Getou Suguru, your cubicle neighbor. It’s also his first day as a junior accountant, so don’t be shy. This job can get pretty isolating, so building relationships is important,” your senior said cheerfully.

Forcing a polite smile, you extended your hand, hoping he’d let your earlier encounter slide. His handshake was firm, his larger hand warm against yours.

“Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

Your senior walked off, satisfied. But as soon as he was out of earshot, Getou grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer, pumping an aggressive amount into his palm.

“Enjoy sharing the same title,” he said coolly. “Soon, I’ll be your superior, coffee-girl.”

He spun his chair around, strands of sleek black hair whipping over his shoulder.

That was six years ago.

Time had not softened the animosity between you two. If anything, it had calcified into a rivalry so intense it pushed both of you to climb the ranks faster than anyone expected. You were both promoted to Corporate Controller—a position that typically took eight years to reach—on the same day.

It was supposed to be a single-person role, but after the CFO reviewed your identical performance stats, he decided to make an exception. Now, you and Getou are seated on the 36th floor of the company’s sleek high-rise, with matching titles engraved on silver plaques outside your offices.

The only thing separating you is a glass wall, through which you exchange daily glares.

Competition fuels everything. From routine tasks to major projects, you turn every assignment into a wager. The CFO, Nanami Kento, has become your unofficial referee. At first, he admired your drive. Over time, though, even his legendary patience has begun to fray.

“Getou’s management style is 2% less efficient than mine,” you declare during a performance review, presenting your meticulously crafted charts.

“Her sales plan took a 0.5% dip last quarter,” Getou counters with his own spreadsheet. “In hindsight, my proposal conserved more resources.”

“His data compression wastes company time!”

“Her budget oversight missed the social media revenue I proposed—”

“You stole that idea from me!”

“SHUT. UP.”

Nanami’s voice, usually calm and measured, reverberates through the room. He stands abruptly, the tension radiating off him like heat.

“I cannot take another second of your childish bickering,” he snaps, slamming a hand onto his desk. “You’re both brilliant, hardworking, and utterly insufferable. You’ve turned this office into a battlefield, and frankly, I’m this close to quitting just to escape you.”

The words hang heavy in the air.

If Nanami’s outburst isn’t enough to make it clear something has to change, the rest of the accounting branch soon makes it crystal. Your colleagues have begun avoiding you and Getou like the plague, steering clear of the drama that follows wherever you go.

Well, everyone in the accounting branch has turned against you and Getou—except for one person: your one and only work friend, Gojo Satoru.

Gojo, the accounting manager, ranks just below you. He is a walking billboard for excess, always dressed to the nines in custom Dolce & Gabbana baby-blue suits that match his piercing cerulean eyes. Every month, he carries a new designer briefcase, each more luxurious than the last, and you have yet to see him repeat one.

He wasn’t just anyone. Gojo is—or was—the heir to a global media empire. His great-grandfather had founded the conglomerate, which owned everything from cable networks to film studios and streaming platforms. But seven years ago, the Gojo family had severed ties with their infamous black sheep.

Gojo had always been a loose cannon, his antics splashed across tabloids with alarming regularity. When he was finally caught in a particularly compromising situation—a sleazy nightclub rendezvous involving a rival conglomerate’s heir and a bottle girl—his family decided they’d had enough. The Gojo media machine couldn’t suppress the scandal, and rather than shell out another fortune trying to salvage their name, they cut him off.

He went from riches to rags—or as close to “rags” as someone with Gojo’s charisma and wits could get. He clawed his way up the ladder at your company, and while his charm earned him plenty of allies, his ego alienated just as many. That left you as the only one who could truly tolerate him. Perhaps it was your shared arrogance, though yours stemmed from your relentless rivalry with Getou, while his was… well, Gojo was just Gojo.

Which is why you’re currently in a supply closet, your back pressed against the metallic shelving as Gojo shakes your shoulders like a madman, his usually smug face looking uncharacteristically panicked.

“You have got to end this feud with Getou,” he hisses, his bright blue eyes practically glowing in the dim lighting. “It’s spiraling out of control. The whole department’s gone to hell. Nanami’s snappy, everyone’s overworked, and the accountants are making more mistakes than ever because they’re so stressed.”

He runs a hand through his shock of white hair, sighing dramatically before adding, “You two have the worst reputation I’ve ever seen. And coming from me—someone who’s made global headlines for my bad behavior—that’s saying a lot.”

You open your mouth, ready to defend yourself, but Gojo raises a hand, cutting you off.

“Don’t even start with the whole ‘but our numbers are the best’ speech,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Because while your stats are impressive, they’re not enough to make up for the chaos you two create. And,” he leans in closer, a devious smirk curling his lips, “don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him.”

You freeze, your heart pounding as if he’d just exposed your darkest secret.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Gojo teases, his tone sing-song. “You’re practically undressing him with your eyes half the time. It’s honestly disgusting. If this is your idea of flirting, you might be a masochist. Or a sadist. Or both. Either way, the rest of us shouldn’t have to suffer through this painfully obvious sexual tension.”

Your cheeks burn, and for once, you’re speechless.

Gojo straightens his lapels, his smirk widening. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I’m going to fix it, one way or another. Consider this your warning.”

Before you can respond, he spins on his heel and storms out, slamming the door behind him. 

You stand there for a moment, your mind racing.

“What can he even do?” you mutter to yourself, laughing nervously. “He’s just an accounting manager.”

But you’d underestimated Gojo.

By the time you return to your office, he’s already marched into Nanami’s and laid out his nefarious plan. Meanwhile, you find yourself staring blankly at the income statement on your screen, utterly distracted.

Your gaze drifts to the glass wall of your office, where you can see Getou seated at his desk. He’s wearing a fitted chestnut vest over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms. His black hair is tied in a loose bun, a ballpoint pen shoved haphazardly through it.

As you watch, he reaches up to twirl a strand of hair around his finger, his violet eyes scanning a thick packet of papers. When he suddenly glances up and catches you staring, your breath hitches.

His piercing gaze darkens, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. He arches an eyebrow, his expression equal parts smug and devastatingly attractive. Then, as if to torment you further, he returns to his work, the faintest smile still lingering on his lips.

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, heat pooling in your cheeks. If your hatred of Getou is a defense mechanism, it isn’t working—if anything, it only heightens your attraction to him.

But you resolve to keep your distance, for the sake of professionalism.

That resolve lasts precisely one day.

The next morning, Nanami summons you to his office. Confident in your newfound clarity, you stride in—only to feel your confidence waver when you see Gojo lounging against the window like a model in a photoshoot, the sunlight framing him perfectly.

Then the door opens behind you, and in walks Getou.

He takes the seat next to you, his legs spread obnoxiously wide, oozing dominance.

Nanami wastes no time. “I’ve reached my limit with your behavior. The entire branch is suffering because of you two. So, effective immediately, you’ll both be attending the annual financial policy conference together as a team-building exercise.”

You groan. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think—”

“This is non-negotiable,” Nanami interrupts, holding up two plane tickets. “And to ensure you take this seriously, know that if this doesn’t work, I will demote both of you and give your positions to Gojo.”

Gojo grins triumphantly.

Nanami adds, “And don’t think I won’t be monitoring your behavior. The conference is hosted at one of our company hotels, so we’ll have access to surveillance.”

As you leave his office, the weight of the tickets in your hand feels suffocating. Later that evening, you seek refuge straight off of your shift, at the nearest bar, ordering a drink to drown your sorrows.

Slouching on the barstool, the straps of your dress slip down your shoulders, but you don’t bother fixing them. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. Nursing your drink quickly turns into downing shots, thanks to the kindness—or opportunism—of nearby patrons. Some, sensing your frazzled state, buy you a drink out of pity. Others, mostly men, let their eyes linger on your neckline before waving down the bartender to pour you another on their tab.

You lean your cheek against your arm, swirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. The din of the bar becomes white noise as your thoughts spiral. Then, you sense a presence settling on the stool next to you.

“Rough day?”

The voice is low, amused, and far too familiar. You stiffen before letting out a slow, tired huff.

“Fuck off, Getou.”

You aim for venom, but your tone lands somewhere closer to exhausted. His chuckle vibrates through the space between you, and then you feel the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, his fingers tracing small, deliberate circles.

“Aw, don’t tell me I’ve finally worn you down,” he drawls, his voice dipping with mock concern. His hand moves, catching the strap of your dress and sliding it back into place with a languid tug. “Resorting to alcohol already? Never thought I’d see the day.”

You snap your head toward him, gathering the last scraps of defiance you have left. He’s leaning casually against the bar, his beige sweater hugging his frame a little too perfectly, the knit fabric stretching taut over his arms. His expression is maddeningly amused, dark eyes glinting with the kind of satisfaction that makes your blood simmer.

“Pretty cocky, aren’t you? Need some liquid courage for our trip, I assume?”

Instead of answering, he reaches forward and swipes your drink. He takes a long sip, his throat bobbing as he swallows. His teeth click against the glass when he sets it down.

“Strong,” he remarks before leaning closer, his voice dropping. “And speaking of the trip, I assume we’ll put on quite the show, hmm? Don’t get me wrong—I hate you. But I hate the idea of Gojo taking either of our jobs even more.”

He nudges your foot with his own, a silent challenge in his raised brow. You hesitate only for a second before extending a hand, your manicured nails catching the dim light.

“Finally, something we can agree on. Look, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep our positions. Yeah, maybe we go overboard sometimes, but we get results. We’re the best.”

“Damn right,” he replies, his smirk sharp and self-assured. His fingers brush yours as he takes your hand, and then he raises it to signal the bartender for another round.

You clear your throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “It’s just a weekend. We can fake being civil for two days. We’ve never failed to perform before, and we’re not about to start now.”

His hand lands on your shoulder again, his touch oddly grounding. “We always exceed expectations. You always go above; I always go beyond.” He emphasizes the last word with a teasing smirk that makes your jaw tighten.

“Oh yeah? Always?” You lean in, narrowing your eyes. “Bet I can out-drink you. Hell, I already have. I’ve practically forgotten why I was even upset in the first place.”

“Big talk for someone who’s clearly lying.” His grin spreads wider, white teeth gleaming. “But hey, I’m all for proving you wrong. Again.”

The conversation dissolves into a blurry competition. Before you know it, the counter between you is littered with empty glasses. The room spins around you, your skin hot, your head light. 

Somehow, in the midst of it all, your legs have tangled beneath the bar, Getou’s foot hooked possessively around your ankle.

When you glance at him, his bronzed skin is flushed, a pretty pink spreading across his high cheekbones. His hair is loose now, cascading over his broad shoulders in soft, inky waves. His glasses hang from the collar of his sweater, and he reaches out, his finger brushing against your chin.

“You’re spilling,” he murmurs, dragging his finger along your skin to catch a stray drop of liquor. He pulls it back and raises it to his lips, licking it clean with a slow, deliberate motion.

“Playing dirty, huh?” you mutter, your voice thick.

Getou takes the last sip of his drink, his cheeks puffing slightly as he holds the liquid idle in his mouth, and shrugs. The casual gesture makes something snap inside you. Desperate to turn the tables, you grab the collar of his sweater and yank him toward you.

His lips crash into yours, soft yet insistent, and for a fleeting moment, the world shrinks to the warmth of his mouth and the faint bitterness of alcohol lingering on his breath. Your tongue grazes his bottom lip, and he parts for you, letting the sharp tang of liquor transfer between you. A low groan rumbles from his chest as his hands tighten around your waist.

You swallow, leaning into the kiss, your fingers clutching at him as his hand slides up, tangling in your hair. He tilts your head back, deepening the kiss, and a moan escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

His other hand moves lower, pulling you closer until you’re perched halfway on his lap, the warmth of his body pressing against you.

“You might’ve had more to drink than me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice teasing yet dark with intent. “But I bet I can have you begging for me off a kiss.”

His thigh presses between your legs, and your dress rides up higher than you’d like to admit. You’re soaked, the flimsy fabric of your underwear doing little to shield your dignity—or his slacks—from your arousal.

“Think you’ll have me begging?” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. 

“You’re the one falling apart, sweetheart.”

Before you can retort, your phone buzzes on the counter, the vibration cutting through the haze. 

A message lights up the screen.

Gojo Satoru: I just KNOW the hate sex is gonna go hard. Don’t thank me all at once, sweetie ;)

beautiful ass fanart by: _viziiro_ on twt/X

[the-proper-possum]

false pretense

✒︎a bridgerton au starring suguru geto

pairing: suguru geto x female reader (zenin)

general summary: dearest gentle reader yet another season containing utmost pride, pretense and pursuit descends upon us. after only mere hours of entering society, you make sure to leave a lingering impression behind as you are caught wandering far from the masquerade ball by no other but suguru geto. lord geto, whom is heir to duke geto and prides himself as such, is certainly more than displeased to find you far off the ballroom and has his opinion on the matter at hand already set regardless of your desperate tries to explain the misunderstanding. as your identity is about to be revealed by him, a sudden commotion bares you the opportunity to slip away. following the rather unpleasant beginning of the season, you pray that suguru geto may not find pursuit in uncovering your pretenses. 

content/warnings: bridgerton au, regency era au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, misogyny, bullying, jealousy, mentions of alcohol and explicit contents, mental health issues, death,  academic themes, breaking society’s norms and expectations, geto is as prideful as ever, reader pretending to be someone else, both being a pain 

author’s gossip: bonjour, my name is anna and i’m this season’s host. behold as this is my first time hosting in general - so please bear with me. quick disclaimer: indulgence and interactions are deeply appreciated. please enjoy :) 

chapter one - welcome to society

[the-proper-possum]

geto suguru’s guide on fraternising with the enemy — teaser

summary: geto suguru has been your greatest rival since your first year at hogwarts, always outdoing you in class and always getting under your skin. when he’s picked as the hogwarts champion for the triwizard tournament instead of you, you think you couldn’t possibly hate him more—until he corners you one evening and asks for your help.

⇢ pairing: slytherin!geto suguru x gryffindor!fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, smut, slowburn, academic rivals to lovers au, hogwarts au ⇢ teaser word count: 0.6k | expected word count: 15k-17k ⇢ teaser warnings: nothing! (full warnings tba!)

“Running away so soon?”

You don’t turn immediately. Instead, you close your eyes and inhale slowly once more. When you finally turn, Geto Suguru stands a few feet away, leaning against the wall. His black hair is tied back neatly, save for a loose strand that falls against his cheek. 

“I didn’t realise I needed your permission to leave,” you say coolly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s not as much fun winning,” Suguru says, “if my competition isn’t around to see it.”

“Competition?” You scoff. “That implies we were on equal footing to begin with.”

His smile widens, and he takes a step closer. “You’re not giving up that easily, are you? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.”

You want to snap at him, say something cutting enough to wipe that stupid self-satisfied grin off his face, but the words stick in your throat. He’s insufferable, yes, but you know that’s exactly what he wants—to pull a reaction from you. And Merlin help you, he’s good at it.

“What do you want, Suguru?” you ask, exhaustion finally seeping into your tone. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of your house?”

“Of course, but like I said, it’s no fun if my favourite rival isn’t around to see it.”

You bristle at his words. “Favourite rival? You were desperate to beat me, Suguru.”

“So were you,” he points out, and it takes all your self-restraint not to do something horrifically stupid like punch him in the face. “If I’m desperate, it only means you’re worth the effort.”

“Congratulations, Suguru,” you say hollowly. “You’ve won the Goblet’s favour. What do you want, a parade?”

“I want your help.” Suguru steps forward, his movements unhurried, his expression calculated.

You blink. “What?”

“You should be proud,” he says. “You were a close second.”

The words sting more than you would like to admit. You narrow your eyes at him. “Spare me your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he replies. “It’s acknowledgment. You’re good. Maybe even better than me in some ways.”

You suck in a breath sharply, thrown off balance. This is not what you expected—not from Geto Suguru, at least. You ask warily, “Is this some sort of tactic to get me to like you?”

Your rival chuckles wryly. “No, but it’d be stupid to ignore the fact that you’re good. You wouldn’t have been the biggest threat to my name being called otherwise.”

His admission leaves you momentarily speechless, a rare occurrence when it comes to Geto Suguru. You can’t decide whether to feel insulted or flattered, so you settle for glaring at him instead. The torch light softens the planes of his face, casting a warm glow on his cheekbones and the edges of his smile. He infuriates you so much.

“Help me,” Suguru says again.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m serious,” he says, folding his arms. “You’re as competitive as I am, and you hate losing. If anyone understands what’s at stake in this tournament, it’s you.”

“That’s a very pretty way of saying you want me to do your work for you,” you shoot back.

“I’m asking because I know you’re capable,” he presses on, ignoring your jab. “You think I haven’t noticed how good you are at strategising? Or how quick you are to spot weaknesses, whether it’s in a spell or a person?”

You stare at him, suspicious. It’s not the first time someone has acknowledged your abilities, but it’s the first time he’s done it. As much as you loathe to admit it, Suguru isn’t the type to hand out compliments lightly.

“You’re insane,” you say finally, shaking your head. “You want me to help you win the tournament I should have been chosen for?”

Suguru’s expression hardens. “I want you to push me,” he says. “To challenge me the way only you can. And when I win—because I will win—it’ll be as much your victory as it will be mine.”

⇢ a/n: hello! thank you so much for checking out my teaser 🥰 i’m so excited to get this fic out, because harry potter and jjk are like. two of my most favourite things ever!!! if you’d like to be tagged in the full fic when i release it, please send an ask! have a wonderful day 🤍