₊˚Sweetcakeᡣ𐭩˚₊

emo! choso lets he’s you into the break room once his lunch break starts so he can have his way with you, pushing your tiny skirt up to your waist as he pounds into you at an angle that manages to hit your g-spot immediately.

emo! choso is protective over you, shooting boys a nasty glare if he even as much sees them looking at you in a hungry manner. and you eat it up every time because you love the way his large hands wrap around you in possession.

emo! choso lets you dye his hair once in a while, letting you experiment with different colored dye all while you cock-warm him, of course.

emo! choso has a piercing on his tip and you’re crazy about it. you love licking it when you give him head and he loves it as much as you do, throwing his head back in pleasure as he feels you gagging on him when you feel the cold ball hitting the back of your throat.

emo! choso puts on his favorite music as he thrusts into you at the beat of the song. at the end, he gets bored and begins pumping in and out of you as fast as he can.

emo! choso watches you gather your combined releases, placing them on his tattoos, almost as if you were coloring him in with your cum. he forces you to lick him up afterwards.

emo! choso loves sharing you with his coworker, suguru. the two dark hair colored boys using up your needy holes at the same time. suguru leaves for a bit, returning back to the store with a dildo.

frat!sukuna wouldn't say he baby trapped you.

because apparently, the whole trap part didn't fucking work in the first place.

if it did, you wouldn't be letting rival frat president!gojo buy you groceries and grin at you like he couldn't wait to get in your panties. freak just wanted to try your fucking breast milk.

the white-haired idiot had no interest in changing diapers or pushing around strollers or burping a four-month old only to end up with a trail of spit down his shirt.

but noooooo, it seemed like you still thought he would make a better boyfriend than the actual father of your child.

sure, okay, it wasn't like the two of you had ever officially dated. but fucking in the bathroom at frat parties was and going out for breakfast together the morning after was kinda close? besides, you were supposed to come to him all doe-eyed and distraught with a pregnancy test in hand to let him lock you down for good and become future father of the year. not just retreat and run away - right into the arms of a waiting buffoon with nothing better to do than beg for your attention.

he'd been trying to step up. but someone wouldn't stop getting in the goddamn way.

sukuna knew you used to tutor him. he just hadn't known how borderline obsessed gojo was with you.

intercepting his calls, pretending to be you over text, trying to tell him the wrong times for appointments and pick ups, everything possible in his power to put himself firmly between the two of you. you didn't even believe him when he tried to tell you either.

rolling your eyes and swearing that satoru would never.

you were naive. a little awkward. the shy sort that got all agitated at the slightest bit of attention. sukuna liked the way you flushed just from a few words, how you refused to meet his stare unless you were laid bare beneath him, biting your lip or burying your face into his collarbone when he groaned your name.

so how the hell had a guy like satoru gojo sunk his claws into you right under his nose?

"he just wants to fuck you," sukuna gritted his teeth, trying not to actually growl when you slid into the booth across from him - all while mr. moron who snuck in walked over to the barista with your baby strapped to his chest.

"i think you're projecting," you muttered under your breath, arching up an eyebrow and swirling a straw around the drink sukuna already ordered you. your favorite.

"i never said i didn't," he sharply retorted, holding his chin up high like it wasn't eating him fucking alive seeing you act like a married couple with gojo when that was supposed to be him.

"come on, it's not like you're actually interested anymore," you murmured, shaking your head as you sighed at him.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" he frowned, brows furrowed tight.

"you're surrounded by sorority girls most weekends," you shrugged, as if he wasn't trying to spend every night you'd let him at your place taking night shifts with his son. "and i just had a baby."

"did he fucking say something to you?" he snapped, squinting accusingly at gojo before swiveling his head back to you.

you were all flustered, your cute face scrunching as you scoffed and motioned for him to lower his voice, "it's common sense. we're not together. of course you're sleeping with other girls. it's fine, i-"

"no, no, i'm-" he protested, but you weren't finished, awkwardly mumbling that it wasn't like the two of you were ever something serious anyway.

"satoru asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday," you added, shoulders sheepishly bobbing up. "so, you know, if you decide to date around too, it's not gonna be weird or anything."

"did you say yes?" he gawked, grinding his molars as he debated on banging his own head against the wall of the cafe.

"well, not yet," you mumbled, tilting your head to the side. "but i'm-"

"you two talkin' about me?" your not-boyfriend chuckled, grinning as he returned with a bag filled with muffins and croissants and whatever else filled with sugar he could find on the menu.

you opened your mouth to speak, but then you abruptly glanced down at your chest, mouth pressing together as you sighed and slipped out of the booth, holding your arm's out to take your baby back. his baby back. "i think i'm about to start leaking. i'm gonna go feed her out in the car."

sukuna almost said that no one would give a shit if you fed him in here. but he knew you better. knew you'd never be comfortable with that - so he bit his tongue, not exactly pleased at the prospect of spending the next twenty minutes sitting here with gojo waiting for you to come back.

"her tits look fuckin' great, don't they?" satoru chirped the second you slipped out the door, loudly opening the bag and popping the first thing he pulled out into his mouth.

"shut the fuck up," sukuna snapped at him, scowling as he resisted the urge to strangle him.

the asshole was just trying to ragebait him.

and it was unfortunately working a little too well.

"can i ask you something?" gojo grinned, crumbs falling to the table as he spoke with a full mouth.

"no," sukuna automatically replied.

"what would you do if i gave your son a sibling?"

suguru likes to get you stupid and high on his cock

content warning:: suguru gets you high, eats you out then fucks you stupid. degrading but with love, p in v, fingering, smut stuff, smut without plot bc im stoned and horny, dumbification.

word count:: 1,3k

so this is actually inspired by this post i was on my fyp and i saw it and it got me thinking and as i said im stoned and horny so credit to @/evfers for the robe idea

"it's okay just relax, you're so soft baby." suguru murmurs pressing the joint to your lips again, you can't help but to do as he says before he pulls it away again. the silk of his ropes caressing your skin the same way his fingers do. 

he enjoys having you like this, too stoned to think. covered by him, completely bare beneath his robe. 

the robe that doesn't hug your body in the slightest, it drapes over you as if he's ripped the curtains off the ceiling and put them on you. 

it's absolutely adorable. 

you don't exactly remember how you got here, one moment you were smoking then suguru told you you looked uncomfortable, the next you were laying on your back suguru between your legs, his lips kissed along the inside of your legs, his breath hitching over your skin. 

your head was already spinning from smoking so much and him meticulously taking off your clothes piece by piece. when you whined you were getting cold, after suguru bumped into your hardening nipples he allowed you his robe. 

it smelled of him, his warmth clung to it. you couldn't do anything but sink away in him. 

he was so consuming in moments like these. 

moment when he wanted to eat your pussy until you passed out. to hear your little whimpers and your weak hand grabbing onto his hair after the fifth orgasm. he kissed the inside of your leg, taking his time with how he actually felt in his head. 

he could already imagine the robe slipping, revealing your breasts. you being completely gone in the satisfaction his tongue was giving you. 

Based on this request, a tall girl version of JJK + short partner!

Tags: [SMUT/18+ and FLUFF], mdni, different AUs, uhhh idk riding, missionary, backshots, breeding… wish someone could proofread my works for me… reader is somewhere around 5'7 (173 cm ~) & 6,2 feet ( 188 cm ~) depending on diff characters.

it was stupid really, feeling insecure over something both of you had no control over. it wasn't like he could build a time machine and go back in time to stop himself from getting in his previous relationships. but oh, did you wish he could.

you couldn't keep track of the amount of times it has crossed your mind. were you good enough? by all means, your lack of experience didn't go unnoticed. he talked you through most of it, showering you with love and giving you the utmost patience. it didn't seem to bother him at all, so why did it loom over you? you could be sharing a good moment between you two, and your mind will immediately give into the the voice in the very back of your head, whispering insecurities until they manifested themselves into reality.

late at night, you'd scroll through his exes' social media pages. at first, it was out of pure curiosity. what did they look like? what did were they like? and so on. sukuna answered all your questions honestly, but he didn't think the way a girl did. some answers you needed to find on your own. one of them was the chapter president of her sorority. she was absolutely breathtaking, very popular and sociable... and sukuna's longest relationship. you found yourself staring at her profile the longest, comparing yourself to her in every which way. it made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't stop. you had to see it from his shoes, what made her so great, even though you couldn't give yourself the same grace. you still didn't know why he wouldn't pick someone pretty, outgoing, and experienced over someone who got excited when your hands brushed. it just didn't make sense.

you still hid your face when he brought you over the edge, still held your tongue instead of letting him hear how good he was making you feel. you'd bet none of them did that. you bet he never had to take time to pause and make sure you were okay since it was all still very new for you. all of these things hung heavy on your heart and led to slowly distancing yourself from him. you weren't trying to punish him—it was the exact opposite actually. you didn't feel worthy of his touch, his praise, his anything. the more you spiraled, the more you pulled away. and one thing about sukuna, is that he'll always say it to you straight.

you heard a knock at your door and you slowly rose from your bed. you already knew who it was. only one person would be bothering you at this hour. you took a deep breath before unlocking the door. your boyfriend stood there in a disheveled state. his hair was slightly mused and his eyebrows were furrowed in concern, eyes wide as he took you in.

"we need to talk," he said instantly, brushing past you as he walked in uninvited. you blinked at him and closed the door. he made his way into your room and sat on your bed like he's done hundreds of times, but this time was different. you could feel it.

you sat down beside him and stared at your feet. moonlight poured in from your window, shining down on the two of you like a spotlight. taking center stage was you, anxious out of your mind for what was to come, and sukuna, who was silent despite coming all this way just to talk.

by the time he cleared his throat, you had convinced yourself it was over. everything felt wrong: the awkward silence between you too and how far away he was from you. sukuna always wanted to touch you somehow, by hugging you, holding your hand, and so on. despite your nervousness surrounding it all, you didn't dare look up. you weren't sure if you could stomach the look that was probably crossing his face. a stricken expression, you were sure, that said everything that was on his mind without him even uttering a word.

"whatever is going on, please just say it," he sighed and shifted on the bed. "i can't keep continuing like this." the soft creaking snapped you out of it and you snuck a glance at him. he was staring right back at you and your heart broke right there and then. sukuna, your ever so arrogant boyfriend, looked so meek sitting there on your bed. he loved being in control, and he was anything but right now. the uncertainty that surrounded your relationship had seemingly crushed his ego and confidence. "i've been up all night, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong, but i can't. help me understand," he swallowed hard, "like you always do."

your stomach lurched at his words. you felt sick. help me understand, like you always do. did he really have to make this harder than it needed to be? remind you of tutoring sessions that brought your together, and ultimately, here. your eyes flew to the door like you were planning to get up and run if need be. of course you were being ridiculous, but it felt like your dinner was what was to leave your mouth instead of an answer. you pressed your lips in a firm line and sighed.

"i've just been thinking a lot about things...how you and i differ and it's affected the way i view us." that was the best way you could put it. you didn't know how to put your newfound insecurity into words. it crept up on you before you saw it for what it really was.

from the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head and scoff. "yeah, we're pretty different, that was obvious when we first met. but we've always made it work, haven't we? what in the world could have possibly changed since then?" he asked, his tone strained. he was once again, using every ounce of patience left in his body, on you. why? he never gave anyone the same grace. if you were anyone else, he'd sure to have dismissed them out by now. written them off without a second thought. the special treatment made you feel sick. you weren't some charity case.. you hated the fact that it was what made you stood out from everyone else in his life. you finally pinpointed it: over time, it felt like the entire relationship was built on pity for you.

"maybe we've been wasting our time here," you heard yourself say, "maybe it's all just a lost cause." you don't remember rehearsing that line over and over in your head like you typically did. it seems like you were on autopilot with the goal of ending the conversation as soon as possible. even if you were too scared to be anything but subtle.

the silence after your insinuation was gruesome. you fought the urge to sneak another look at him because you knew you would fold. dealing with those thoughts everyday was absolute torture. you felt stupid in your own skin. it wasn't enough to stay with him in the dark. it wasn't worth sacrificing your sanity over.

"alright, if that's how you feel then." he finally said. you heard shuffling as he got up to go to the door. he paused, and you felt his eyes on you. of course he just had to shoot you one last glance before leaving entirely. when you heard the front door slam shut, the ache in your chest was almost instant. the reality of what you'd just done crashed down on you. were you really walking away over that? like he said, the two of you always made it work. well, not as of late but—

and him. he didn't even fight for you. if the roles were reversed, you'd have insisted to actually discuss things and have a productive conversation about each other's feelings. four, maybe five sentences were exchanged between you two, all of it anything but productive. what did you just do?

those five words rang in your head as you fumbled for your phone. he couldn't have gotten too far. maybe if you just called him, he'd hear you out. you found your phone around where he was sitting and froze. you didn't see him go on it...but then again, you barely looked at him for longer than two seconds.

you opened it and immediately found his contact. or, his number. the contact was deleted and his number was blocked. the asshole did the rest of hard work for you. you were speechless. had he been secretly want things to end too? did he see the opportunity and ran with it, letting you do all the hard work? whatever it was, you were stunned. you didn't unblock his number. you didn't call him and beg for him to turn around. instead, you spent that night drowning in your own tears, reminiscing all the good times before it all went wrong.

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

You were halfway home, a grocery bag digging into your fingers as you mentally ran through tomorrow’s schedule. Right. Dinner with Satoru. Some ridiculously expensive restaurant he insisted you’d love. A smile tugged at your lips as you fished your phone out with your free hand to text him.

You were mid text when you felt it.

The air changed. It thickened without warning, heavy and just fundamentally wrong. A smell rose—iron? blood?

You stopped and lifted your head from your phone.

There was no name for the thing standing there in front of you. Not animal. Not human. It was a monster. A horrible, huge monster with no eyes, only a vertical mouth now open with unrestrained hunger.

Your body understood first, but you never got the chance to scream.

One second the cold of its sharp claws was close enough to feel on your skin. The next, Satoru Gojo stood between you and it, like he just materialized from nothing.

“You picked the wrong one.”

The monster lunged at him, but it never finished the movement.

A single, almost lazy gesture of his hand, and the thing simply ceased to exist.

One moment it was there, all hunger and wrongness. The next, the alley was empty except for the lingering stench and the cracked silence it left behind.

Satoru stood still for half a second, as if bracing for something worse than what he had just erased. Then he pushed the fabric covering his eyes down around his neck and turned.

Those blue eyes moved over you with sharp, almost frantic precision.

“Are you okay?”

You did not answer. You could not.

At some point your back had hit the right wall of the alley. The grocery bag had split open; his favourite mochi lay scattered near your feet. Your ears rang. The image of that mouth—and the effortless way it had been erased—kept replaying behind your eyes. Your hands hung limp at your sides. You were breathing too fast and still starving for air.

He shifted toward you and your body reacted before your mind could. You flinched violently, your shoulder scraping against the wall as you tried to put even more distance between you. A small, strangled sound slipped past your lips.

Satoru froze completely.

You stared at the empty space where the monster had been. At the man standing in front of you who had just erased a nightmare with a single gesture. Your pulse hammered so hard it hurt. Your mind kept trying to assemble the pieces—breakfast that morning, the laugh in your kitchen, the kiss he gave you before heading to the school where he taught—and failing. None of it fit.

“Baby. Look at me. You’re safe. It’s gone.”

You still didn’t speak. Your throat worked uselessly around nothing. The shock sat thick and disorienting, a heavy fog that refused to lift. The alley felt too narrow. The air still smelled wrong.

Then he lifted his hand.

The words tore out of you before you even realized you were going to speak—raw, scraped raw, like they had to climb over wreckage just to reach your mouth.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

His hand froze halfway between you.

You swallowed hard. Forced another breath into your lungs. The fog was thinning just enough for something colder to start rising underneath.

When your voice came back, it was low and unsteady.

“Tell me that’s a hallucination.”

He said nothing.

“Tell me someone drugged me.”

Silence.

“Tell me I’m inside a nightmare.”

Satoru only looked at you. And the absence of any denial was worse than any answer he could have given.

Something in your chest tightened. The disbelief cracked, slow and ugly, giving way to something sharper.

“What was that?”

Still nothing.

“What are you?”

Satoru’s jaw flexed. He didn’t look away, but something old and tired moved behind his eyes.

You stared at him. At the man who had just erased a monster without effort, without fear, without even breathing harder.

“You’re not…” Your voice frayed. “You’re not human.”

The words landed between you like a blade.

His gaze dropped for half a second. Not in shame. In recognition. As if he had heard some version of that sentence too many times to count, from too many mouths, across too many years. The strongest. The monster. The thing that stood above everyone else. He had spent a lifetime being looked at like that. And only with you he had been allowed to be simply Satoru.

The man who fell asleep with his head on your shoulder.

The man who loved movie dates.

That version of him was standing in a dirty alley watching the only person who had ever treated him like a person look at him the same way the rest of the world always had.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. The residual terror was still flooding your system, but underneath it something colder was taking root.

“Were you scared?”

“…No.”

The answer came too easily. Too naturally. Like it was simply fact. He had never been in danger. Not for a second.

The distance between your realities yawned open in front of you, vast and irreparable.

You looked at him. Really looked. And for the first time the height, the beauty, the casual power felt alien. The same hands that had brushed your hair out of your face last week had just rewritten the laws of physics in front of you. And he had done it the way other people swatted a fly.

Your voice, when it came again, was quiet. Almost calm.

“How long?”

He frowned slightly.

“How long have you been pretending to be normal? How long have you been lying?”

A long silence stretched between you. His beautiful eyes looked clouded as they moved slowly over every feature of your face, as if committing it to memory. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“Since the day I met you.”

Something inside you snapped.

Your fingers flew to the chain around your neck. The delicate thin necklace he had given you just two weeks ago, the one with the tiny infinity sign. You could still hear his voice when he put it on you “This looks good on you. You look much more like mine.”

With shaking hands, you ripped it off. The clasp caught painfully against your skin. You didn’t even notice.

Satoru only made an expression of pure suffering, still respecting the distance, still not touching you.

“…Baby—”

Before he could say anything else, you threw it.

The chain hit the pavement between you with a small metallic sound before sliding to a stop near his feet.

“Stay away from me.”

You didn’t wait for an answer. You turned and walked out of the alley without looking back, grocery bag abandoned, tears finally starting to slip down your cheeks.

You didn’t turn around.

Imagine being Satoru right now.. poor man. Anyway, I have a feeling they're not done with each other yet

masterlist

.˚𓈒✦ ݁･˖ 𝓕.𝑻𝑶𝑱𝑰 ݁･✧𓈒˚. likes your happy trail & 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒉!? 𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 ꒰ 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋮⋮ reader has body hair ⋮⋮ touching / playing with your happy trail & bush ⋮⋮ 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 f. rec ⋮⋮ pussy worship ꒱

You were curled into the solid warmth of Toji’s arm. His thick bicep cradled your head like a pillow made just for you. The steady beat of his heart thumped slow against your cheek. Your phone glowed soft in your hands as you scrolled through the never ending ‘for you’ page lazily.

His other hand rested heavy on the soft curve of your tummy. Right under your navel. Thick fingers tracing the fine line of hair that grew there. Your apparent happy trail. It started soft and sparse then thickened lower. Disappearing into the waistband of your panties where dense curls covered your cunt completely.

jjk smau- features toji, sukuna, nanami, choso, geto, gojo

AN: I loved making this one if you couldnt tell 😭

warnings: possibly ooc choso i dont really write him often sorry, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader called "silly girl", most of them get sexual, murder, kidnapping, non consenual mind breaking ig?, gojo cheats on reader, stalking, cult leader suguru, gaslighting, reader is literally batshit, they all are into it tho, modern au

the rest below the cut

BEHIND THE SCENES FOOTAGE of you and toji finding new hidden details on sukuna’s body :: all of this content was edited out of your most recent post.

crack fic ,, they do onlyfans together btw ,, teasing sukuna ,, reader is unserious ,, lots of talk about sukuna’s booty ,, my dream date wow ,,

You used to pray for times like this; having two handsome, muscular men who were obsessed with you naked in your room.

Now it was a regular occurrence.

The footage starts shakily.

"Alright," you crawl onto bed in front of them, "since last video was shibari + eiffel towering, this one is gonna be… ass eating! Yay!"

alt!bf!geto hates PDA, yet without fail, he’ll show up at your door clutching a bouquet so obnoxiously colorful it clashes comically with his all-black fit (plus your favorite coffee order, sugar enough to make his teeth ache).

alt!bf!geto has got immaculate style, gathered through years of thrifting and vintage shopping, but he guards his expensive sweaters like a kid hoards candy. Except when you’re shivering. Then, and only then, will he “reluctantly” drape one over your shoulders (you’ve got 5 of his sweaters by now and he’s not asked for any of them back).

alt!bf!geto is a masochist through and through – loves when you catch his labret piercing between your teeth, or twist your tongue around his piercing until he winces, feeling pain and pleasure as he whimpers.

alt!bf!geto plays in a pop-rock band, and his members are slowly losing their patience with him pitching songs that are all about you. Every riff is a love letter of your times together and every lyric is committed to how beautiful you are.

alt!bf!geto has also been secretly burning through your Olaplex conditioners, because his hair has never felt this soft. Meanwhile, you’re oblivious, wondering why he suddenly looks like he stepped out of a shampoo commercial.

alt!bf!geto is a tattoo apprentice, and he loves his side-gig, but mostly because you volunteered your skin as his portfolio. Now every piece he inks is a claim over you as he designs pieces related to him on your body, as if he were branding you as his. 

alt!bf!geto is a gentleman. He’ll drop to his knees without a word to tie your laces, or slip off your heels just to press a kiss on your arch, no matter how much you protest. Sometimes you genuinely question if he has a thing for feet.

alt!bf!geto's insomnia works in his favor while you’re asleep, as he sketches your face from every angle, doodling pages with your proportions like a devoted stalker.

alt!bf!geto is into knifeplay, too – tracing the blade along your throat just to lap at the beads of crimson trickling, swearing they taste sweeter than any dessert.

alt!bf!geto adores when you pull his hair while he eats you out, while he cries out in pain. He insists he’s growing it out *specifically* for that, so you can shove his face deeper and fist his strands harder.

alt!bf!geto only posts you on social media. He’s subtle, posting pictures of your hand with his bracelet, your eyes tattooed over his toned chest, two coffee cups side by side with your name plastered on one. No girl dares to DM him after seeing how obsessed he is with you.

cw :: bunch of kissing, saliva, cum play, feet stuff(?), slight somno

wc :: 730

you had an undenial sweet tooth for your boyfriend, nanami. although he was more laid back, your high sex drive worked out quite perfectly with his skill of time management and organization. always made time to make sure you were satisfied.

naturally you just couldn’t help yourself, wanna always touch up on him and feel him and kiss him, sexually or not. and it does not help the fact he’s perfect in every way. 

you’ll take the opportunity of straddling his wide lap as he sits at the couch on hold of an important phone call. both of you taking advantage of the small time frame to grope and kiss at each other, swirl tongues like animals as if you weren’t just kissing an hour ago. nanami will squeeze and grab at your curves and ass, groaning into your neck as you kiss and lick at his skin. he’ll go back to professionality and hold the phone up to his ear as you suck and nibble on the other. 

other times at the couch, you’ll sit at opposite sides and watch whatever documentary he’s interested in that week, you’ll slip a foot onto his bulge and tease his lap gently. he’ll do his best to relax about it until he’s starting to become more than chubbed up, squeezing at your ankle and rubbing it to somehow make you slow down, which you do not. 

when he said "talk to me when you're ready to have a real family," you thought he was joking.

as luck would have it, he was dead serious— dead serious about giving you the silent treatment and making you a mother.

"finally" is the first thing you've heard him say in nearly twelve hours. if it weren't for you putting the switch down (albeit begrudgingly), you would've forgotten about his vow of silence completely.

"now," he starts, far too serious for a man mad at a few pixels, "are you ready to have a real family?"

"sure, dork," you say, giggling in a way that says 'i have no idea what i'm getting myself into.'

"are you absolutely, completely irrevocably sure? this is you we're talking about."

frighteningly oblivious, you still think he's pulling your leg. you nod along without question. "yes, kento," you sigh. "can we get on with this?"

something in the air around him shifts, something so imperceptible, only you could notice. oh, you definitely shouldn't have said that.

with an intensity that you've never seen, he drags you to the bedroom and shuts the door, sealing your fate.

୨୧ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 18 + getting caught dryhumping with girlfriend! shoko stoned

gojo has good weed.

you two knew that. which is why while gojo and geto were probably going vertical in the shared flat showers , you and shoko had pussyfooted your way into his dorm room.

his cannabis is tucked neatly into a blunt he rolled two nights ago in the darkest depths of his desk drawer. thankfully gojo is not quite good at hiding things. it only took about two underwear drawers and one look under his pillow to find it.

there’s a sticky note indolently hugged round the wrapper: “don’t touch” with a little scribble of his own face with a sharky grin. ofcourse this wasn’t the first time you two touched his shit and so you lit it careful enough to have a draw or two before slipping it back into the drawer as planned.

but you two are no good. you’re suckers for a good high. you get atleast half of it down before you forgetfully toss it onto geto’s clean folded laundry (badddd idea).

you’d say you two have been stoned for thirty seconds but it's been an hour and you're now cuddled into shoko's side , her cradling you in one arm as you made out sloppily over gojo's sheets — kudos to him for buying such an expensive comforter.

"baby you're going to kiss my face off." she breathes , lips sucking slow on your bottom lip as you pressed your tongue against hers lazily.

"i would ," you sigh , "if gojo’s weed didn’t give me cotton mouth every time i tried it."

you weren’t lying. weed made you desperate. you had your hand tucked inbetween your thighs for a couple of minutes now trying to fade out the sound of your heartbeat pumping beneath your skirt. but the rushing of blood only roared as shoko clawed her fingers into your ass , tits warm and pressed against your chest as her tongue curled into all the right places in your mouth.

"speaking of gojo , " shoko says , swiping a string of spit from her lip. “i wonder when they’ll get back.”

"don't know ," you hum as you smoothed your hips against hers , your thighs slowly threading into one another , "don't care."

your skirt bunches around your stomach as you press your panties onto the crotch of her jeans. you rock your hips back and forth gently and sho’s fingers frantically hook into the sides of your waist while she whisks her hips into you slow.

"baby , what if they—“

"they won't." you say , legs trembling.

shoko is quick to give in.

she jerks her hips upwards as you whet yourself on her jeans. you’re giggly. you squirm. you kiss her till you practically can’t breathe.

“you feel so good.” you grin , lapping saliva into the corners of her mouth.

“i know.” she says. her breath makes your mouth tingly and your tongue wet and your thighs pinch around her waist.

“yeah , right there.” sho breathes.

honestly you’re too high to know what she wants , you just keep rolling your hips into her and it’s working. she’s out of breath , she’s clawed her fingers into the pillow behind her head , sweat sticking to the sides of her face as she says your name all sweet and breathy.

“like that?” you ask , eyes heavy lidded.

she nods.

“yeah , princess ,” she chokes.

you hold your breath , knees cracking into one another as your panties soaked a spot on her jeans. you’re dizzy. starry eyed from all the weed you’ve had you’re practically seeing colours.

“fuck — sho.” you groan as you splintered your teeth into your bottom lip.

you’re not sure when you’ll come. after all cannabis is a bitch. maybe soon. but not soon before the door suddenly clicks opened.

(un)luckily for you you’re too stoned to hear it , and the sound of the door cracking ajar or lights flickering on only comes to you when the two are stood beside you and shoko on the bed , gojo with a hand to his hip shaking his head while geto’s jaw hung opened slightly , brows knitted into one another in both confusion and deep concern.

“what the hell…” gojo groaned , teeth clacked into one another as he blew a fuse.

you squeak and teeter messily into his sheets , smoothing your skirt down to its appropriate length as shoko adjusts herself on the bed.

“oh fuck.” shoko breathes.

“care to explain yourselves?” geto asks.

you blink slow. sooo slow.

“not really.” you murmur.

— You tried to be the patient, quiet and caring wife. But you were the other woman in the end.

Tags: husband!Higuruma x wife!reader x assistant!Shizumi. Angst no comfort, cheating. Wait uninvolve me from my own angst. Short drabble. Guys I meant assistant not secretary pls save me

Dating Hiromi felt like moving within an excel spreadsheet sometimes.

Well, it didn’t use to be like that.

At least, not before the ring and the responsibilities that came with carrying his name.

He was once a funny man, seriously charming with that dry humour of his that swept you off your feet about five years ago.

Maybe you got married too early at 25 when he popped the question at the Eiffel tower. Cliché, but you loved feeling like you were in a movie with Higuruma.

Things were always planned to perfection with him and executed with the same level of precision.

You don’t remember a single date gone wrong, a single moment where there had been miscommunication from either sides.

Things were just so easy with him before the wedding.

But now you couldn’t pinpoint when things started to get cold between the two of you.

Was it when you started focusing too much on him after quitting your job? That doesn’t make any sense though, he was the one who told you he could keep the house and you two on its legs alone with his salary.

So you could focus on building a family, you agreed immediately. Quit your job as a receptionist at the dental office, started being more present around the house—sent him off to work with a full bento in the morning.

Yet, somewhere along the months, the lunchboxes started coming back full. Visibly touched but discarded by him whenever he pondered whether to eat them.

On the days he actually excused himself when you’d but him about why he hadn’t eaten anything, he’d just brush you off with “I wasn’t hungry.” or “I was too caught up with work, didn’t have time to eat.” or worse “It was too pretty to eat.”

Does that apply to you too?

Are you too pretty for him to touch now that you started taking care of yourself too?

He says you’re pretty on the days you put extra effort into your appearance, yet he doesn’t take a second look at you.

Doesn’t touch you at night, hold you through your slumber. Leaves in the morning before the sun has the chance to kiss your soft features through the curtains.

Again, when did the love die?

When did he stop loving you?

There was a time you couldn’t even breathe when the question popped in your mind.

How could your husband just stop loving you when you’ve done nothing to him?

Now, it quietly lives with you—knocking in the back of your mind when he comes home, kicks his shoes off and immediately heads to the shower without even greeting you.

It sits there, making you ponder day and night when it went wrong.

Maybe this is what marriage truly is and that you were stupid to think the honeymoon phase would last.

Guess it was true what people said.

Things get real quickly.

There are no more love drunk days.

But still, something gnaws at you with the idea that it isn’t supposed to be like this and that there’s something else.

There’s just no way he lost all interest in you overnight, is there?

Your chest feels like there’s an elephant sitting on it, pushing your lungs to your ribs—slowly taking away all of your oxygen day by day.

Tomorrow is your two year wedding anniversary.

And you feel a whole lot pathetic as you fold the gift wrapping paper around the small box in your hands.

A pretty expensive watch sitting inside. The kind that’s leather strapped, created ages ago by some insanely talented watchmaker and that holds history in its weight.

You spent months saving up for it before quitting your job, knowing you wanted to get him something so special for such a special day.

The next evening you take the bus to his office, a thirty minute ride with public transport to the location while by car the commute is reduced by half.

At the front desk, Fleur—the french receptionist that was hired six months ago—kindly greets you, knowing you’re Higuruma’s wife and letting you pass by her with a small wave.

Going up the stairs, you hear the floorboards of the yet-to-be rebuilt office groan.

On the second floor there is a scarce amount of offices—two large meeting rooms that are currently empty, and two offices. One being your husband’s, and the other is his secretary’s.

Judging by the quietness of the office, you assume he’s working—probably knee deep in some case that has him scratching his forehead in that stressed out way you learned he does.

Which is why you carefully pad through the hall, all the way to the last door on the right, failing to see how the office across is empty—the door wide open on the left.

Pushing the door open, you’re met with the sight of Higuruma in his chair like always.

Except, with his secretary straddling him, head lowered and kissing his neck desperately.

Your heart shatters at the sight, the illusion of your perfectly planned out day ruined at the sight.

They both snap their heads to the entry as the door cries with a loud rrrrrg as the springs fight to keep the wood up.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out, wasting your last breaths of air as you’re unable to obtain any more from the shock.

Everything slows down.

Shizumi’s eyes widen, her blown wide pupils shrink into nothing as fear glosses behind her irises.

Higuruma freezes in his seat, head that was previously lolled to the side snapping back up straight.

It hurts so much to look at everything.

Her open blouse, the multitude of hickeys peppered across her chest. His large hards—the ones that used to cherish your body, your skin, every crevice of it—settled safely on her ass.

His tousled hair, messed up by her hands when you were once the only one he allowed to touch.

Fuck.

You were right.

You weren’t the problem.

The gift bag in your hand slips from your weak grip, the carefully picked out box inside falling to the floor and you can hear the glass shatter.

Or maybe it’s the echo of your soul cracking open right here.

Neither of them move, minds circling back to how they both thought the door was locked.

And it hurts so much more when you see they don’t look guilty.

If anything, they look bothered.

How ironic, a lawyer cheating on his wife with his secretary while he hears all day in divorce cases how much this happens.

You’re so stupid.

You were never the problem.

Shimizu finally crawls off his lap when she sees the tears start to spill from your eyes, awkwardly pulling her skirt down and fumbling with her shirt in an attempt to button it back up and hide what you’ve already seen.

She’s not even aware how her lipstick is smudged and staining all over your husband’s lips and chin, some residue on his neck.

Everything disgusts you.

Your skin, the room, the smell of her.

You feel like throwing up.

But the only thing you do is take a good look around the place, Higuruma’s frozen, defeated body slumped in the chair where she was climbed on top of him not even seconds ago.

And you catch the vase of sunflowers on a drawer next to you, probably a congratulatory gift from some company.

Sunflowers.

Your wedding bouquet was sunflowers because he loves them.

Your wedding day.

It was today two years ago.

He promised to love you.

Till death did you part.

The wedding ring you wear sits snugly on your ring finger, the pear-shaped diamond shining under the office light just like his own band is reflecting.

He kept his ring on.

He kept his ring on while he betrayed you.

The truth slams against you so much harder as you stare at him.

Unmoving.

You can’t.

Your knees are locked in place, your jaw slack. Your head in shambles and your heart in the gutter.

He could’ve at least taken it off.

The slight tremor in your hand expands through your organs, soon overtaking your whole being and making you shake all around.

It’s only then when you forcefully move, hurriedly pulling your eyes away from the discovery because you don’t want to lose any more face.

Abandoning the gift where it landed on the floor, you sprint out of the building, stumble down the stairs—hear the floor cry under your steps as you leave that life behind.

As you leave him behind in the physical way he hasn’t.

Higuruma stays where he’s at. Shizumi is leaning against his oakwood desk, breathing irregular, chest raising and falling jaggedly.

He…

He doesn’t know what to do when the guilt starts crawling in through the tips of his fingers once you leave.

The look on your face, the sheer and utter helplessness and pain etched onto the features he used to kiss goodnight.

It put a spear through his heart he knows he threw.

The affair becomes a nightmare he hadn’t thought through.

He just dug a hole for himself so deep he won’t ever crawl out of.

His career is going to go to shambles, his wife is going to leave him, everyone will turn on him.

And for what?

Because he was distracted by his secretary?

Fuck.

His throat closes up, he pushes himself off the chair—feeling his legs weak and his heartbeat shaky.

The bag stares back at him, he brushes past Shizumi to grab it. Crouching down next to it, he pulls the spilled out box from inside and examines it.

Examines the yellow wrapping before gently ripping it off by the edges, fingers trembling too much for him to actually scratch it off.

A sleek black box is revealed, no logo in sight.

He opens it and finds the watch.

There’s glass around it from where the crystal broke.

The clock has stopped.

And so has your time with him.

“Adultery.” Is enough reason for you to divorce him with the help of another attorney, someone years younger than him but that will get praised for taking down the grand Hiromi Higuruma.

You deliberately chose him to represent you, someone unknown who could use the extremely successful case.

Because your now ex-husband has no defence against your real claim.

You have witnesses you didn’t even need to call.

A month later, you’re cleared.

Higuruma stripped from your name, on all your new documents saying your maiden now.

He gave you half of his belongings, the house, the car, the keys to everything he worked for.

You refused everything.

Got an apartment on the other side of the city.

Reported Shizumi for harassment when she kept showing up at places you went to and spammed your every private social.

All to offer heartfelt apologies you felt no sympathy for.

Things settled on your side.

The ring was somewhere in a ditch.

The same place you once were while married to him.

But Higuruma lost everything.

Your friends, his friends, his wife, his job.

Nobody wanted an unloyal lawyer, what would happen to them if they wanted their services? Will he go for their wives too?

It was an outrage.

And you quietly watched from afar.

Doing anything but writing that satosugu x reader threesome, sigh.

gojo fucked up, bad. like really, really bad.

head in his hands, he watches chat roll by a million miles a second, all clowning him for the one promise he made that he swore he'd never follow through with. it was a stupid bet, and your incessant laughter in his headset isn't helping, especially when he just watched his dignity disappear under the guise of shiny, fleeting tips and the rush of viewers that would only stick by for his humiliation.

on the bottom corner of his screen deck, the pop-up doesn't lie: he lost this round? he has to swallow a honey pack, whole, live on-stream with you only a room away. sure, it's the fault of you and your terrifyingly competent two-hand aim-fire, but gojo thought that you would lose for him. you always lost against him.

your laugh is sweet and reassuring in his ear, but at the mercy of thousands to hear. it's not genuine; it's the relationship you wave around like a shiny flag, knowing situations like this could have him walking out of a streaming marathon with a hundred thousand in his pocket.

"okay... fuck it— fine! this is what you guys want?!"

gojo wants to bang his head against a wall, especially when the only fleeting words he can catch on his screen are 'yes' and 'do it'.

"you guys are really freaky... you think you're gonna see my boner if i take one?! no, i'm a gentleman."

he sighs into an open palm, then drops his head again in an overwhelmed sigh when they don't let up. gojo doesn't get flustered at work, but he gets flustered for you. he doesn't want to be a further thorn in your side — overtaken with debilitating wood for the last ten hours of this stream- but he gives in, because... of course, he does.