#Jjk Shoko | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my-starlights · 11 hours ago

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let's see if this gets anywhere...

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. in commemoration of jjk ending: what would've happened if suguru never defected, and... Shoko did? [pt 1 of 'gone like a wisp of smoke']

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. lowkey au :: angst :: hurt :: self indulgent :: sfw :: cursing :: multiple parts :: highkey really bad so m sorry

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Gojo Satoru :: Ieiri Shoko :: Geto Suguru :: Iori Utahime :: Mei Mei :: Masamichi Yaga :: a whole lot of other characters that my 3am brain can't comprehend

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. I love shoko and she's being slept on fr </3 this is really self-indulgent and i really dont expect this to go anywhere... enjoy. i just havent seen any shoko defection stuff in her perspective and tried to do her justice...

ᴡᴄ. 2.5k (whoops)

Ieiri Shoko was a living ghost. Not quite human anymore: just an asset for the Jujutsu world and a slave to the people who took her for granted.

Right?

No, Shoko Ieiri wasn’t a ghost. She might have been useful, but she was just a tool killing herself with cigarettes and sadness because, most of all, she could not feel anymore and simply did as she was bidden.

For all the dramatized moping that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru did about ‘being the strongest’ and having ‘no one quite like us,’ there was no one even remotely similar to what Shoko could do. And so, she suffered in silence as the world kept moving.

2006 was the year when everything seemed to turn for the worse. But, of course, Shoko didn’t know that; she was barely seventeen, after all, and her biggest worries were keeping her smoking habit secret(-ish) from Yaga, stopping Gojo and Geto from starting a full-on fight because someone ate the last limited-edition dark-chocolate Kit-Kat (Shoko had), and healing sorcerers when missions inevitably went south. It was a boring life but better than most others.

So when the three of them were sent to the gymnasium after Gojo forgot to put a veil where Mei Mei and Utahime had done their mission, she didn’t expect anything to happen.

If anything, she half-expected Mei Mei to blow a vessel because Utahime’s crush on Shoko was getting ‘too obvious.’ Shoko knew how 'down bad' Utahime was for her but didn’t believe it.

Her musings were interrupted, per usual, by Satoru and Suguru. They seemed to be gearing up for another argument, and it was the perfect moment for Shoko to slip away for a smoke break. She did, and they hardly noticed, too invested in their own fight.

Apparently, they were being sent by Tengen to escort the Star Plasma Vessel to assimilate with him. Something about this being so important that two Special Grades were needed.

Satoru made sure to send her lots of photos of the fight, and Shoko gave a half-smile, telling him not to get too hurt.

She didn’t feel particularly sad that she wasn’t invited to partake in the mission. She had been going on fewer and fewer missions anyway.

“Shoko!” Yaga said, catching up to her as she walked back to the dorms from the infirmary. “I just wanted to apologize.”

She looked at him, confused, and so Yaga continued:

“I didn’t invite you to the Star Plasma Vessel mission. Tengen specifically requested the two of them.”

Shoko laughed, a bright little thing that Yaga seemed to appreciate since he offered her a small, wry smile. “Oh, sensei, don’t even think about it. I would’ve been dead weight. I’m not worried about them.”

(She should have been.)

The two boys returned to Jujutsu Tech too soon, their faces heavier than she had ever seen, as though the air around them had shifted irreversibly.

It was 2006 – right after the Star Plasma Vessel died – and even though her death was still a shock to Gojo and Geto, they had bonded over their loss and become stronger from it. Together.

(They seemed to forget who had pulled them out of their guilt-ridden headspace, who had woken them up as they shook in nightmares, who had shoved them into sunlight after weeks of grief.)

It was the end of August when Suguru found Shoko alone. She was puffing a new cigarette, and he strolled up to her.

“Oi, Sho. I haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up?”

“Same old, same old. How… how are you? After the vess- after Amanai?”

“It’s tough, but that’s expected of the job. I have Gojo to look after me.” He took a cigarette from her, making heart eyes at the mention of Satoru.

Shoko internally blazed. She had been there every night when Suguru felt the pangs of guilt, when Satoru felt inadequate for the title of ‘the strongest.’ She had been there for both of them, so how dare he?

(Stop feeling emotions. Useless bricks that bring you down, she thought. You’re supposed to be the reserved one.)

“You also have me, dumbass. You... know that, right?” she asked after a couple seconds of silence.

Suguru didn’t seem to respond to that. He laughed a little, and Shoko had never felt a stronger urge to slap some sense into him.

“You look tired, Sho. Have you been getting rest?”

She ignored his question in return. “Geto, I have a question for you.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Do you… do you ever get tired of doing sorcery?” Do you get tired of being used? “You’re forced to risk your life every day to save the people that cause your suffering.”

Suguru thought for a moment. He had always been the thoughtful one. “What brought this on? But I guess not. Sure, it gets exhausting, but it’s rewarding knowing that you’re helping innocent lives.”

“Well,” Shoko deadpanned, “surely you get annoyed that you need to eat curses and feel like throwing up almost every night.”

He laughed again. Shoko left him.

When Shoko crashed into Gojo, she wasn’t doing well. She had lost weight, and her once-shining eyes were surrounded by puffy purple shadows. She didn’t sleep much anymore, using her reversed cursed technique to sustain herself. Her face pressed against Gojo's infinity, and she stumbled back, perturbed.

Gojo had finally landed himself in her infirmary once again.

Shoko almost laughed when she realized it had been months since she last saw the white-haired man.

She decided to cut around his shirt to get closer to his broken rib: it was fractured and bound to hurt like hell, and she didn’t want to heal through the fabric and waste precious energy.

Instead of using scissors to cut the cloth, she chose a scalpel. Way back when she had started working in the infirmary, she’d been scared of the tiny, wicked blade. But her hands steadied quickly, and soon enough, she was using it every chance she got. She still had many today: glinting, thin silver blades that she had personalized – diamond edging along each assortment, which she used on rotation. They exuded her RCT and sliced through skin (and fabric) easily and reliably.

Shoko healed his broken rib and the scratches on his knuckles, then moved to leave him on the bed when he grasped her wrist. She stilled as infinity separated his hand from her skin.

“Sho? I’ve been thinking. We should go out for yakisoba sometime soon.”

“I… can’t.”

“Heh? You’ve never said no to an outing!”

“It’s been months since you’ve even thought of inviting me to you and Geto’s shenanigans... I'll pass.”

She turned to face him, and he seemed to finally register her state. His expression softened, only marginally. “You look like shit, Shoko. Let us take you out. We’ll protect you from perverts on the train, and you’ll keep me and Suguru from killing each other. It’ll be like old times.”

Shoko didn’t smile. “I wish I had the free time. There’s more work for me here in the infirmary.”

“Shoko…” Satoru pouted. “I don’t want to exclude you or anything like that—”

Shoko tamped down her frustration and smoothed a mask of indifference over her face. Bastard, she thought. You already have.

She looked into his shining eyes.

“It should be a date for the two of you. I’d hate to impede.”

She wriggled her wrist from his grip and left him confused.

The one thing Shoko perhaps appreciated about school was that, even though her talents lay solely in healing, Masamichi Yaga wasn’t stupid and had taught her how to fight.

She was a Grade One sorceress, after all. She had accompanied Geto and Gojo on missions early on and earned her title then, but while everyone pegged her as someone destined to remain in the infirmary, Yaga had insisted she train with him.

In those early missions, Shoko didn't wield swords or axes or her hands like her coworkers - Yaga had her find alternate uses for her tools from the infirmary, already imbued with her cursed energy. After Yaga pushed for a showcase to the higher-ups regarding Shoko fighting on the field, the geezers thought it was novel at first, laughing at the image of a surgeon playing a soldier.

Until, of course, they saw her in action.

She wasn’t flashy like Satoru, nor was she as gruesome as Suguru. Instead, Shoko was swift and surgical. A flick of her wrist could slice through limbs and arteries, or send a blade flying faster than the eye could register. Her stethoscope, too, became a weapon, using it to choke curses.

Still, when the higher-ups realized her abilities extended far beyond the infirmary, they responded the only way they knew how – with fear and control.

“She’s too valuable,” they had said. “Her talents are wasted on the field. We’ll cut back on her missions. She belongs in the school; in the infirmary.”

Shoko hadn’t fought them. She’d stood in front of them, a vision of acceptance, silent and unflinching as they decided her fate. But later, in the quiet of the infirmary, she’d clenched her fists so tightly that her palms bled.

Suguru and Satoru, to no surprise barely offered her comfort. Suguru had patted her on the shoulder awkwardly and muttered something about how at least they appreciated her talent, while Satoru – ever tone-deaf to a situation– said, “Well, you hate missions anyway, right?”

Their words hadn’t helped. They never did.

But Yaga was different. He didn’t need to say much. Instead, he simply brought her to the training field late at night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, and continued to teach her.

At first, his drills were brutal. Shoko returned to the infirmary with bruises that Suguru and Satoru teased her about, but she shrugged them off. Over time, she began to move with sharper precision and greater confidence. Yaga seemed scared of her, poised with the tiny blades.

"Sensei, am I getting better?" she panted one night. It had been weeks since they started training together.

Yaga grunted an approval. "Sure."

"Can we continue practicing?"

"Ah, Shoko. You've always been a good one. Well, the higher-ups found out about this--" he gestured at them fighting, "--and asked us to stop. They say you'll run yourself dry of cursed energy."

Shoko inwardly seethed - she had reversed cursed technique, how the hell could she run out of cursed energy?! - but sucked it up. She had gotten training, recieved her first-grade nomination, and could finally escape from the nightmare of the infirmary. But all good things came to an end, and this was no different.

The next night was the last time they trained; no words were spoken but she trained harder than ever. Yaga chucked at her as they said goodbyes. "You've become a real First-Grade," he said, voice gravelly. "It's a shame this had to end."

Shoko didn’t need praise. Yaga’s quiet acknowledgment was enough.

But she knew the missions wouldn’t come. Not anymore.

She was wrong.

The last mission the higher-ups sent her on was a test, she presumed; to moniter that she hadn't become extremely formidable after training with Yaga.

It was a rainy night when Shoko, Geto, and Gojo hopped onto a train from Shibuya.

The mission had been a breeze – a Grade One curse and a couple dozen Grade Twos – a challenge to most but not the three of them.

Shoko barely got to fight. Suguru and Satoru had taken care of most of the work, and the few stragglers she dispatched hardly felt like a challenge. She was more irritated at how she felt like an afterthought, even to her closest friends.

The train back to school was cramped, forcing the trio to stand.

“Why the long face, Ieiri?” Satoru teased. “You’re not still sulking because we took the fun part, are you? Come on, the cleanup’s important too. Someone’s gotta do it.”

Before she could reply, Suguru snorted. “You know he’s just mad you killed that little rat-curse faster than he could finish his fight and get to it, right?”

“I was about to get it and she just killed it! I barely even saw the scalpel! Didn't you see how it tried to eat my finger, Suguru, it—”

Shoko groaned as their bickering escalated into playful shoves. The train car was already stuffy, and their antics weren’t helping.

What did help – although she’d never admit it – was how quickly they noticed when the mood shifted.

The lingering stares from older men sitting on the train weren’t subtle. They leered openly at Shoko, their gazes lingering where they shouldn’t, phones out sneakily taking photos or just looking at her up and down. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling the familiar burn of humiliation and anger crawl up her spine.

Satoru noticed first, his carefree expression hardening into something cold. The train car became silent. “Oi, what’re you looking at?” His voice sliced through the air like one of her scalpels.

Shoko smiled inwardly. They had stopped fighting, just to protect her.

Suguru was right behind him, snatching the phone from one of the men who had dared to take photos. He swiftly deleted the images, his face blank but his cursed energy thrumming with unspoken threat.

They formed a barrier around her, shoulders brushing hers as they shielded her from view. Satoru kept up a running commentary, throwing insults at anyone who dared glance in her direction, while Suguru’s quiet menace was enough to keep the rest at bay.

For once, their protectiveness didn’t annoy her. Her chest bloomed, and for the first time she felt like she belonged. She reached into her satchel.

Shoko secretly hid the tiny Grade Two curse – the rat-looking curse Gojo had wanted to kill– and cupped it in her hands. She was slowly feeding it reverse cursed energy to keep it alive but dead enough not to give any alerts to Gojo or Geto.

Thank God for those creepy men, and them distracting Gojo and Geto from the cursed energy swelling around this curse, Shoko thought. I want to experiment with you, little guy.

They arrived back at school just as she finished the thought, and they bid each other goodnight. Shoko made a quick beeline for her room, all while blaming it on ‘the two of you punks taking up all my energy,’ which wasn’t quite a lie. They knew she was thankful for them taking care of her.

In the silence of her room, Shoko shoved energy into the curse, and marveled as it started to revive from its deadish state, shivering and stopping, wide eyed, just as surprised as Shoko.

Wait. If she could kill of majority of its life force and bring it back, then this must be what the higher-ups were scared of. Just as she had shoved the energy into the rat, she then sucked it out. A rush of energy thrummed through Shoko.

She gaped. She had just transferred cursed energy.

If she could half-kill it and then bring it back to life, then...

This! This was what the higher-ups were scared of.

She withered the curse's arm and regenerated it.

She wrinkled its eyes and let it see again.

Ieiri Shoko smiled. She had found her full potential that night.

Want part two? Send in an ask, starlight!

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screampied · 6 months ago

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vegas id give you the sloppiest head ever if you wrote scissoring w shoko 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

★ : rubbing pretty clits w shoko.

cw. fem! reader, wlw, scissoring, praise, spanks, nıpple play, overstim, petnames, mdni.

shoko who can’t help but giggle, watching with doe brown irises as your hips stutter every few seconds. you were simply no match for her pace. with your slick cunt repeatedly grinding back against hers, you were already this close to losing it. to making yet another mess. she’s lied flat on her back, one hand gripped against the left side of your waist before humming, tilting her head in faux coy. “cupcake, c’mon, thought you said you knew what you were doing, hm?”

as your mouth hangs open—you lock your legs securely against hers, trying to scissor her properly. the heat of skin clashing against each other makes a school of butterflies flutter inside of your tummy. “m tryin’ shoko,” you pant, watching as she trails a hand down your ass, a thumb brushing up against it’s shape as if it was carved into a heart. “fuck, feels so good, ‘sho.”

“try harder, honey,” she huffs, almost about to break out a sweat herself. long brunette locks tangle around her finger as she keeps a keen eye on you the entire time. puffy cunt hoods glissade against each other back and forth and oh, the stimulation. with the mixture of her growing heat, you felt hot. shoko’s angle of her thigh legs wrap around yours and you felt everything. “pick up the pace, uh huh—good . . girl,” and a sharp gasp wrenches out of her throat once you start to accelerate. “thaaat’s it, fuck me, pretty girl.”

both scorching hot bodies continue to move in rhythmic sync. she lets off a sweet moan, feeling the convulsing thumps of your clit pulse against hers and it feels almost too good.

her breath hitches as she snakes a hand toward your breasts that bounce right in front of her face. “come closer, cupcake. don’t be shy,” and her words were a bit low—she lets off a tiny hiccup as her eyes roamed at your perfect jittery body. with each lengthy second that passed, she was getting more and more drunk from your sweet cunt. as you lean closer, pawing your right hand into the mushy skin of her right leg, she grabs ahold of one of your tits, latching her plump glossed lips against the tender nipple. “mhm.”

you moan out a singular hiss, bouncing against her body as she lies right underneath you—

skewing the bulb of your cunt straight against her drooling opening. with the merciless speed of your hips, she could barely keep your sweetened neglected mounds in her mouth. although, she left a pretty trail of her sheeny saliva onto each of your tits. she sucks against them both, briefly closing her eyes shut as you’re merrily rutting into her sloppy core salaciously.

“shokooo,” you drag out her words in a candied slur of both twin syllables.

the slow yet deadly grind of your hips had her head spinning. not just hers but yours too.

clammy hands of hers make their way back toward your unsteady hips, yanking them closer to her sweltering, sticky heat before she spanks your ass.

with that single spank . . one turns into two, then three, then four.

shoko’s obsessed with your ass, never failing to leave it a few concise stings near the very plush parts of your flesh. “f— fuck,” she stammers, a shake in her voice due to your insane rhythm. she felt it too, with both sloppy mounds bumping against each other, the incoming pleasure was almost inevitable to feel. she pried one of your legs open just a bit farther apart, strumming her slender fingers against your pulsating cunt to play against your throbbing slit. “mhm, twitching so good for me, huh. you gonna make a mess already? barely been a few minutes, cupcake.”

your throat was parched with dryness — with the bed underneath you and shoko wailing out in weak creaks, you moan. as your head tosses itself back in rapture, your trembling thighs briefly shifts to acclimatize against her wide open angle.

“gonna cum, shoko,” you warn, feeling the furrow of your eyebrow pull both arched brows together. for just a second, you take a second to suck in a nice amount of balmy air.

everything around you felt so warm, including the welcoming cunt of your girlfriend who’s just humidly sultry with tepid heat.

effortlessly, it sticks against your own core, creating a lewd concoction of damp juices, forming into a little soaked cobweb. there’s an entering ring that goes through your ears and hers. it’s never ending screech makes your back arch at the moment of your climax and she slumps back against the mattress. her skin’s met with the velvety silk sheets. as her body directly underneath you moves back in drowse, her lowly hooded eyes meet yours again once you prepare to speak out a whimper. “can i cum, shoko? pretty please?”

“with those manners, you can do anything you want to me, cupcake,” she hoarsely whispers, pulling you close to her face.

inches away, you close the remaining distance to drag her into a needy, wet kiss.

both bodies remain to rut back ‘n forth, limbs all tangled and intertwined in pure bliss.

she tasted so sweet. her syrupy gloss ghosts against your tastebuds and you moan right into her mouth. shoko was handsy, wasting no time to feel all over the curvature of your presentable physique. starting at your ass — then back toward your hips and the rest of your body. she even leans in, lolling her tongue out to lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest.

“mhm,” you whimper, sappy soddened juices squelching against each other. as you both eventually succumb to your orgasmic peak, in each mouth, you both moan in pretty flawless unison.

your hips come to an abrupt slow but you’re still jerking against her, swerving in swift addictive arcs as she feebly wrapping her arms around your waist. the rickety of the bed continues to sob out creaks from the double amounts of weight. “baby,” she croaks out lowly, strings of fluids departing with each inch that you move your cunt away from hers.

exhausted, you slump forward into her chest and you feel a rumble of her shoulders. “ah, worn out already? i guess we can take a break,” she whispers, feeling your body still shiver within her hold. her touch was always gentle—she loved how you’d always lean into it, lean into her. with a sheepish smile curling against her slight crooked lips, she makes you sit up. you unlock your weak legs against hers before lying on top of her, droopy eyes meeting her lust filled gaze. she gives your forehead a single kiss before huffing. “you did so good, baby. always so good for me.”

“s- shoko,” you stutter out, her perfume making you throb. you were already starting to fantasize about the lewd feeling of her cunt rubbing off against yours in carnal harmony that was literally just seconds ago.

“shhh,” she shushes you, a thumb swiping its way over the part of your lips. body again body — it was warm, her sweat mixed with yours and you could feel yourself aching for more. already, you missed the way she felt bumping against your sensitive pussy. it made your head spin, your nerves were still in overdrive before she makes you lie on her chest. “let’s rest, okay,” and her slight raspy voice made you let off a soft content sigh. she strokes your back, hearing your breathing slow a bit before she coos against the shell of your ear. “when you’re well energized again, i’ll start a nice bath for us both,” and she gives the crown of your forehead one more kiss.

“my sweet girl.”

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