#its fine i just have to get through this week (its not fine)

[strang3lov3]

Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent. 

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life. 

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both. 

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment.  You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even. 

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch. 

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.” 

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket. 

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist. 

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you. 

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished. 

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.” 

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.” 

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.” 

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?” 

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you. 

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it. 

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?” 

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.” 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway. 

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” 

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork. 

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.” 

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing. 

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin. 

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night. 

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out. 

-

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.  

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter. 

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some. 

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming. 

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky. 

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even. 

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke. 

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off. 

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time. 

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right? 

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before. 

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.” 

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him. 

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden. 

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs. 

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences. 

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

 “Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

 “I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie. 

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?” 

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.  

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails. 

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke. 

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer. 

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

 “Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

 “I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts. 

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing. 

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

 “Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?” 

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan.  He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.” 

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

 “Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you. 

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own.  “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt. 

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,” 

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.”  He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing.  He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

 “Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

 “Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree. 

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.” 

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”  

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts. 

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.” 

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.” 

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful. 

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs. 

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.” 

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.” 

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #tlou joel #pedro pascal x reader

[moonstruckme]

I know nothing about spencer actually, since I never watch his series. But I read on one of your fics that spencer is germphobia?

Could I request one where spencer gets home after a case for a week and found reader sick in the bathroom?, and she's kinda locked herself since she knows spencer germphobia?

You know that kind of fever where you sweat and throw up nonstop

It's been so long after you write spencer. I miss your spencer a lottttttt TnT

Thank you for requesting! I’m not totally sure if Spencer is canonically confirmed germophobic but he’s definitely sensitive to germs, so we’ll roll with that :) 

cw: nausea, vomiting

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 832 words

You’re not at your best, shaky and sweaty, but when you hear the front door open you move quick as a flash. 

“Hello?” Spencer’s call echoes through the apartment. 

“Hi,” you say back, quieter than you intend. Still, he finds you easily, and you’re glad you reacted fast when the handle on the bathroom door jiggles. “What are you doing here?” 

Spencer’s taken to staying at your place, but when he’d called you from the jet to tell you his case was over you’d said to go back to his apartment. With what he knows about how sick you’ve been the last couple of days, you thought he’d listen. 

“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he answers simply. He doesn’t try the handle again, but his voice sounds just on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” 

“I’ve been better,” you admit, breathing through another wave of nausea, “but I’ll be fine. You should go home.” 

“I am home. Open the door.” 

“Spence,” you sigh. The tips of your fingers are cool against your temples, and you press them in to quell the uneasy feeling that comes with having your brain so muddled. “You don’t want to come in here.” 

“Why can’t I decide that?” There’s an odd scraping sound on the other side of the door. 

“Because you’re too nice. I know how you feel about germs.” The mutinous acid vat of your stomach revolts again, and you cough a couple of times, swallowing forcefully. 

“I’m just as likely to get sick from pressing an elevator button,” Spencer insists gently. “Seriously, let me in.” 

“Go home,” you plead. 

“I’m coming in.” 

You sigh, bending to lean your head against the cool porcelain of your tub. “What, are you going to kick the door in?” He’s told you about his coworker Morgan doing that, but you don’t think of your scrawny (though you love him for it) boyfriend as capable of such measures. 

“Not quite.” Another scraping sound, and you sit up as your bathroom door tips outward. Spencer catches it before it can fall, easing it down onto the floor before stepping over it. He’s taken the whole thing off its hinges. 

“Show off,” you say tiredly, too spent to do anything about it as he walks over to you. 

“Yeah, well,” Spencer lifts some flyaway baby hairs off your neck, cool knuckles pressing to the hot skin, “I didn’t want to damage your door. You didn’t tell me your fever was this bad.” 

“I told you I was sick.” 

“I feel like ‘sick’ is more or less ambiguous,” he says, not unkindly. His touch moves to your face, long, slender fingers laying down across your forehead. “How high is it?” 

“Dunno.” You swallow thickly. “Haven’t checked. Are you okay?” 

“I touched a dead body yesterday; so long as I shower after this I’ll be fine. How have you not checked?” 

“I can’t—find—” You cough as bile rises in your throat, bending over the toilet “—the—” 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Spencer rubs your back. Your coughing turns into retching. “I got it. I’ll look for the thermometer soon, okay?” 

You nod, tears pressing at your eyes as you dry heave. The muscles in your throat and abdomen spasm painfully. 

Spencer makes a sorry sound, his hand coasting up and down the ridges of your spine. “You haven’t been eating anything, have you?” It’s not really a question. “We need to get something in your system. You know that ‘starve a fever’ saying is an old wives’ tale, right?”

He sits with you until the fit abates, then stands and leaves the room. You hear cabinet doors opening and shutting, and before long he’s got a wet rag cooling the back of your neck, you’re sipping water out of a straw, and he’s sticking your previously missing thermometer in your ear. 

“I’ll probably have to go soon if I want to get to the store before it closes,” he’s saying quietly, free hand settled comfortably north of your knee. You’re trying really hard not to breathe in his face. “It’d be good to have some cheerios or something for you to eat, and something with electrolytes.” 

The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it close to read the screen, a frown pursing his pretty lips. 

“Are you sure you want to stay?” you ask, though at this point you really want him to as well. “I don’t want to freak you out.” 

Spencer sets the thermometer aside. “You’re not freaking me out,” he says, hands gentle as he takes the rag from your neck and folds it onto a new side before putting it back. You almost sigh. “The worst thing that can happen is I get sick, and” —he meets your eyes, mouth tipping upward as he shrugs— “if that happens, it can’t be helped. But if I went back to my apartment, and I was fine there but you were still sick here by yourself, well, what’s the point in that?” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #tw vomit #tw nausea

[churipu]

Hellooo! I saw ur reqs wer open and I wanted to know if its oknif ok if u can write abt the jjk men being their for their gf's performance/exhibit for school or work when their family or friends can't make it?

(I love how how the way you write them as well! I found u through the nanami oneshot and I've just been on ur masterlist reading through all of ur fics and drabbles, esp now with me going through the same thing as above 💛)

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ

❪ jjk men showing up in your art exhibition when nobody did ❫

────── 𝕴 . featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, itadori yuuji x fem! reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. none :)

note. hi nonnie :( thank you so much for the love, i'm so sorry for the delay, i'm so sorry that happened to you. i'm 100% sure whatever you were presenting to everyone was awesome! i love you <33

𝜗𝜚 . GOJO SATORU

gojo has received your heads up regarding an art exhibit a week prior. he'd notice the way you've been very very excited about having your art work presented for people to see. and he's happy to see you happy.

he made it extra clear he wanted nothing with the jujutsu world the day your exhibit was held — all he wanted was a nice and peaceful day to spend with his partner. gojo woke up extra early to send you off, helping you get ready.

the way your smile lit up his morning, he couldn't even get back to sleep right after, seeing how happy you are with today. gojo can't even wait for the time to struck twelve for the exhibition opening, and so he got there an hour early.

he was silent with his movements, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp as he paced around the crowded area — blue eyes averting everywhere to look for you. with his height, finding you wasn't too hard for him.

pushing through oceans of humans, he stood right in front of you. the solemn look on your face doesn't go unnoticed, "hi, baby."

you look up to see him and crack a smile, "you came."

gojo grins down at you, "of course i did, can't miss my girl's exhibition, can i?" his large hand covered the top of your head, "why the frown? are you not happy to see me?"

chuckling, you shake your head, "no. my parents couldn't make it, they were too busy with work."

and you were so excited to show them your art work too. gojo didn't forget the way you rambled on about how your parents were going to love it — especially when it was dedicated to them. and they butchered it up by choosing work over you.

this time, gojo frowns along with you, "they didn't show up?"

with a shake of your head, gojo pulls you into his embrace, "i'm sorry that happened, show me everything? i arrived here an hour ago to see you, you know?"

"one hour? so early and for what?"

"to see you, silly. i couldn't wait to see all your works," he pressed his lips onto your forehead, "and this is for my beautiful girl."

he handed you the bouquet and laced his fingers with yours, "let's get some food after this? it's a date."

"it's a date!" you smiled, no longer feeling upset.

𝜗𝜚 . NANAMI KENTO

people always tell you to never get excited over small things, but you couldn't help it — the slightest things made you really happy, but at the same time, the slightest things made you sad as well.

i'm sorry, can't come to the exhibit. something came up, i'll try to swing by next time y/n! maybe next year? sorry :(

you read the text over and over again. this should be fine, (friend) was probably just busy with their day so they couldn't drop by — no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it was fine. you didn't feel like it. they promised.

"i'm sorry i'm late, y/n."

turning around to look at the source of the voice, there stood your boyfriend. sweat dribbling down the side of his face, hair disheveled with shallow and rapid breaths. he looked like he just ran a marathon.

"kento? i thought you couldn't make it—"

nanami shook his head, "i made time for you, i will always make time for you," he gave you a small smile.

"you're not late, just in time actually," you switched your phone off, shoving it inside the back pocket of your jeans, "thank you for coming for me."

he wiped his sweat, standing up straight, stepping towards you, "where are your friends? they should be here now, are they not?"

the corner of your lips tugged downwards. it was embarrassing as it is, and now you had to tell him that they weren't coming. it's like a slap to the face, "um . . . they aren't coming. something came up, and i guess they couldn't come."

nanami's eyebrows twitched slightly, but he said nothing. his hand reached out for yours, giving it a slight squeeze, "spend the rest of your day with me?"

you blinked, "how about work?"

"don't worry about my work, you come first, understood?" he brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

𝜗𝜚 . ITADORI YUUJI

maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics made you a better person. maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics pushed you to do better — like a cry for attention. but for some apparent reason, they never seemed to be satisfied with what you're doing.

"art brings you no good, what are you going to be? an artist? do you know how much they earn a year?"

don't be an artist this. don't be an artist that. it was pretty expected that your invitation for them was discarded with no thoughts behind. hell, they didn't even spare it a glance.

and yet, the little girl in you still hoped that they'd show up — even just for a while.

they didn't, it should be obvious. you saw it coming, but it still hurts anyways. however, itadori yuuji showed up; and he was like a ball of sunshine, so you couldn't help but to be happy as well. especially with how packed his schedule is, he still made the time to stop by.

"baby!"

"yuuji!"

he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, carrying you around with ease, "sorry i came a little late, kugisaki needed me to bring her shopping bags back to the cab. where are your parents? they should be here, right?"

right. they should have.

"no, they didn't come," you murmured into the crook of his neck before pulling your head back with a sad smile plastered to your face, "but i'm okay, you're here now!"

yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "i'm going to pester gojo-sensei to let me off for the rest of the day, i need to be here with you."

you shake your head, "you can't, what if you have a mission?"

"fushiguro can take over, pretty. don't worry about my missions," yuuji replied, nuzzling his nose to the side of your face, "plus, how can i leave you alone here, huh?"

"you're the sweetest, yuuji. but what if it's an important mission?" you pinched his cheeks gently, pulling them.

"fushiguro can take over, he's strong. and there's kugisaki, and the second year students. they'll manage," he retorted, pecking your cheek before letting you down.

"you're too nice, yuuji."

"i love you. and show me your works, i can't wait to see them, you know? kugisaki wanted pictures!"

© churipu 2024 , do not copy or repost anywhere

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader

[nightsmarish]

Hello luv <3 could you possibly write a prongsfoot or wolfstar x reader and they take her to get a new piercing?? maybe they accidentally keep hitting or helping her clean it and stuff :)))

Poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader (James Potter x fem!reader x Sirius black) | 900+ words

A/n: first of all: omg, my first rq, very very happy, thank you so much babes <3. Second: I am on a piercing ban rn and I am dying for the ban to break so this made me sooooo jealous

T/w: reader is suggested to have multiple ear peircings, needles, still learning to write James, Sirius works in a bar

★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡

"What if this is a bad idea?" You haven't even gotten out of the car and into the building when you start second guessing yourself.

"Love, you've wanted this for a while, I thought?" James is getting out of the backseat and opening your door on the passenger side.

"I do, but it's my first face peircing, what if it looks bad?" James kneels next to your seat in the car while you fiddle with your hands, eyes focused on them, rather than the worry on James' face that will undoubtedly make you melt.

"Doll, you're gonna look hot as fuck, I promise you that much." Sirius turns in the driver's seat to face you, left hand moving to the back of your head, stroking the nape of your neck. "And either way, if you get it and, after a few months, hate it, you can take it out."

You all sit there for a moment before you stop fidgeting and look between the two boys. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm freaking out now, ive been planning this for weeks now." You laugh, trying to ease the tension that's accidently set.

"It's okay, love." James gently grabs your face, turning you to face him and kissing you softly. "You still wanna get it?"

"Yeah, I do."

ᯓ★

You all manage to get through the door of the peircing shop.

You sit in the chair, Sirius holding your hand and James looking away because needles freak him out, but he was adamant he would be a form of moral support.

The piercer uses the forcep clamp and you're pretty sure the needle is in their other hand, but you've had your eyes closed for a while now. And honestly, based off the videos you watched, it's probably for the best you don't see the needle.

"Okay, breath in through your mouth." Their voice is soothing as you take in a breath, albeit a little shaky.

"And a deep breath out..." your hand forms a death grip on Sirius' hand as the needle punctures your nose.

"Good job. I'm going to put the jewelry in now; one more deep breath in." Your hand keeps its hold on Sirius, "and out." The jewelry swiftly replaces the needle. "Okay, and you're done."

While paying and leaving, your hand never leaves the boy until you reach the car.

"Let me see." James once again gently grabs your face once the three of you are near the car. "Dear Merlin, that looks amazing."

"Yes it does, and you took it like a bloody champ, doll." The other boy adds.

"Yeah? It looks good?"

"Obviously." He overlaps one of James hand and leans in to kiss you.

"Wait- no- no kisses right now." Both boys drop their hands from your face.

"Are you okay?" James brows are furrowed in concern.

"I'm- I'm just scared you'll hit it and it will hurt."

The paler of the two laughs a bit but looks at you so fondly you could melt into a puddle like the wicked witch of the west. "Fine- fine then. No kisses. For now."

ᯓ★

You're sitting on the couch when James gets home a few days later, book open as you read.

James toes off his shoes and walks behind the couch, tilting your chin to lean down and kiss you.

You instinctively let him, used to the little routine the three of you have. But dear fuck, you didn't consider how much it would hurt for his nose to hit your very sore one during a kiss.

"Fucking-" You pull back, hand going to your nose to shield it as if some invisible source is gonna sucker punch you.

"Shit- sorry, love, I didn't even think about your new piercing." James rounds the couch to sit next to you, putting your book fave down on the coffee table to keep your place.

"It's okay, Jamie, really." You move your hand away and rake your nails through his hair.

"'M sorry anyway." He leans in again, this time kissing your hairline instead of your cheek.

Sirius had been up in the bedroom, having a night shift at the bar he worked at, so he was sleeping most of the day. But his shift starts in an hour, and he wants to at *least* see you two before he has to see drunk people for 8 hours.

Padding down the staircase in your townhouse, Sirius sees you and James on the couch, you with tears lining your eyes.

"Bloody Merlin, baby, don't try and kill the girl, prongs." Sirius jokes as he makes his way to the couch as well.

"I didn't do anything!" James whips his head around to Sirius, who cuts him off with a kiss before he can continue to defend himself any further.

"He kissed me and it hurt like a bitch." Your voice is slightly whinny, desperately wanting your shorter boyfrienda attention.

"Oh, my poor girl, James is hurting you with his love again?" Sirius coos as he sits between you two, but it's more like on both your laps, grabbing the sides of your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I said sorry!" He attempts to defend himself again, "I didn't mean to."

"Sounds like it was an accident, huh, doll?" Sirius speaks in-between kisses on your face.

"Seems so." You murmur.

"Either way, seems only James can properly kiss me now." He grins at you before grabbing James' face, more aggressively than needed, and smashing their lips together.

#poly!prongsfoot #poly!prongsfoot oneshot #poly!prongsfoot x y/n #poly!prongsfoot x you #poly!prongsfoot x reader #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #sirius black x james potter #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x fem!reader #marauders era fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #james potter #Sirius black #poly!prongsfoot imagine #Sirius black fluff #sirius black

[dnd-smash-pass-vs]

Inevitable been thinking about how that one anon viewed Laios as a monsterfucker, and I think it made me realize the source of that confusion:

I think many monsterfuckers, and also many (dare I say most) monster devourers like Laios, both derive their desire from the same source: a latent wish for apoteratosis, the wish to become a monster.

Linguistic side note: apotheosis, becoming a god, breaks down to apo- (towards the end point), theo (god), -osis (turn noun into verb), so I swapped in the root for monster, hence apo- terato -osis. Side note over.

Monster devourers are a rather rare archetype in (mainstream) fiction, but they do exist. Those who seek to mimic or emulate the monster's power, those who find them endlessly fascinating and study them well past the point of obsession, those who wish to show their dominance over the monster by proving that they can kill and eat it... and I think Laios is the first I've seen who takes the title quite so literally, where his obsession goes straight to monsters-as-food.

Monsterfuckers, meanwhile wish to become close to the monster in a non destructive way (or at least a typically less destructive one, usually the only casualties are furniture and few bandages are needed, but I'll acknowledge that exceptions definitely exist). They wish to bond with it, to connect to it through lust or intimacy, to be able to stand at its side. They wish, on some level, to join it. Side note, I'm not saying this is true of all teratophiles, some are just kinky and driven by the thought of positive physical pleasure, or who find the personality of a given monster appealing, but I do think the apoteratotic desire is an underlying driver for many, I'd guess well more than half, it's just a subtle enough thing that I don't think most are consciously aware of it.

There's also a third point to the secret apoteratosis triangle that might surprise you: the monster slayer. Sure many, even most, slayers are driven by something like disgust or xenophobia or even rationality, but a significant minority land in the "if you can't join 'em, beat 'em" a.k.a. "I can't be you, so I'll destroy you" camp.

And these three reactions are, I notice, the three most common reactions that people have to one thing: the unattainable desire. The sentence begins "I cannot have it..." and these three camps end it different ways.

The teratophages say "so I shall dominate it." They seek what power they can grasp so they can have some modicum of control, so they can try to "have" it anyway. The kaiju corpse scavengers in Pacific Rim including refined and suave mob boss types just smacks of this attitude.

The teratophiles say "so I'll get as close as I can." There's a werewolf romance book where they're considering trying to turn the girlfriend, though they have no idea if she'll survive it (boyfriend was turned by accident then abandoned, so he's clueless, and they haven't found any others to teach them), and she says that she's fine remaining human, because she shares the power through him. "I have it, because you have it." The façade eventually breaks and in a vulnerable moment she confesses that she'd be willing to risk even a likely death to try to be turned. When they get in contact with an elder who can turn her safely she doesn't even wait a week.

The teratophobes write that whole sentence as "if I can't have it, then no one can." I'm sure everyone has seen enough examples of this behavior to understand that it's just a kind of love turned corrupt.

I'm not the first to notice the underlying apoteratotic urge: the aforementioned werewolf story, indeed many werewolf and vampire stories romanticize the transformation of a human into a monster. Back to Dungeon Meshi, author Ryōko Kui is fully aware of it with how Laios's underlying desire is eventually brought out of the subtext and explicitly named as his dysphoria with humanity, and his wishing that he could be a monster. For Laios that desire skipped right past the socially unacceptable monsterfucking, explicitly a form of bestiality in that world, to the socially acceptable devouring, though tempered by his respect and admiration of monsters into a desire for symbiosis with them. He cannot become one in truth (or so he thought when younger) but he could become part of their food web. It's as close as he thought he could get. Of course, that's the Watsonian explanation; the Doylist explanation is that Ryōko Kui wanted to subvert expectations, and also wanted to explore this angle of it.

So, all taken together, I think people read Laios as monsterfucker coded simply because teratophiles, teratophages, and teratophobes all share the same root motivation: apoteratosis. Thus, all three branches are coded very similarly.

It's similar to something I've seen in Batman fandom: some fans project romantic love between various members of the Batfamily, which is both wildly against canon and thoroughly hated by some other branches of fandom. But it is understandable, since familial love and romantic love both come from the same root, love of another. If someone doesn't recognize the simultaneous similarities and distinctions, it's all to easy to conflate them. If you don't actually understand the distinction, then the signs of affection between siblings might look the same as the signs of affection between lovers. Likewise, if you don't understand the distinction, the urge of the monster devourers (or ecologists) might look the same as the urge of the monster fucker.

I've sat on this for near a month, partially because of my repeated absences, partially because I wanted to honor it with an equally in-depth response. But 24 days later I've still got nothing, while I can't speak for that particular person I think in general you hit the nail right on the head for the base roots. I got no notes. Even with Laios...like all I can add is how supplemental materials actually confirm he did want to be a monster researcher but found books too dry, the only one who seemed to really *get* monsters was shunned. and how wild he goes when talking with an actual werewolf, "The existence I thought unobtainable is now right in front of me".

#even that last part. like as someone who got married only for us to realize that we may have the wrong kind of love #then broke up but stayed good friends and roommates but throughly not attracted to each other. #yeeeeeeah. #not tournament #answers

[xzhdjsj]

By Your Side

Isaac x Reader

Isaac comforts you

Reader is on their period and is frustrated with work.

Anyone ever had cramps so damn bad it made you throw up? Cuz that was me last week and istg i was gonna die

Also this was supposed to be entirely fluff but idk what happened and now we have this😭 It all works out in the end though!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It's been a day since then, and as you’d expected you feel no better. It'd take a miracle for that to happen anyways. Periods are horrible, it makes your mood sour and your body ache. Not to mention it's annoying and a hindrance to your work. That doesn't mean that Isaac lacks understanding and thinks it a hindrance too, quite the opposite actually. Isaac insists you don't lift a finger if you're not feeling well, and if you do, he's always close to keep an eye on you.

And there it is again, that discomfort in your lower abdomen and back, a tell-tale sign that your period was on its merry way to ruin your week. With a hand across your stomach, you quickly tapped your phone, checking the date. Who knew a month of cramp-free frolicking would be over that quickly. You mentally curse yourself for not keeping track again and head off to the bathroom.

Though, that doesn't always translate well in your mind.

You sat opposite him in his office, hovering over a document you've read at least 10 times but still can't seem to grasp. Each time you feel like you understood, you realise your mind had wondered off in the middle of it or you got distracted by the throbbing pain in your lower abdomen.

Isaac's gaze would find you every minute or so. He'd flip a page, then look up. Or he'd type a sentence and glace at you before continuing. It was his little system of ensuring you weren't struggling.

This time his eyes find you in a frantic state. You let out a deep sigh, flipping the page over to start reading from the top all over again. The frustration was evident, knitted in your eyebrows and the frown on your face. Your eyes were unfocused, and you kept shifting your body every few minutes.

"Are you okay?" Isaac broke the silence.

"What?" You look up at him confused by his sudden question, and a little annoyed your focus was once again broken.

"I asked if you were okay."

You rubbed the side of your neck and sigh.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." You dismiss him, returning to the words on the page in front of you. Adamant to get it right this time.

"Are you really? You look a tired Pickle." His voice knocks your focus again.

"I'm fine Isaac." You tell him again. this time sternly.

"Are you sur-"

Your fingers massage the bridge of your nose, and your patience runs thin.

"God Isaac, I said I'm fine! I'm perfectly capable of working right now! It's literally just a period, I'm not bed ridden or something!" The words pour from your lips before you could think them through and instantly, you regret it.

"Right, I'm sorry dear. I was just worried." He's a little surprised, had you looked at him while speaking you'd see the way his eyes reflected it.

To be honest, you’re a little surprised at yourself too, but all you could think of right now was how the FUCK do you respond to that? You open your mouth to say something, anything really, but when you finally looked over at him, he's already shifted his focus to the screen in front of him. There isn't a single thing you could think of to say to him anyways.

You bend your head again, looking at the page you deemed so important earlier. Now it was just insignificant, and part of the reason for your outburst.

'How foolish' you thought to yourself, getting upset at him for showing concern over a matter he had little experience with. And despite his inexperience, he was only trying to help. It wasn't like you got any work done in the 30? 45 minutes? an hour? you were sat here. That only meant that he was right, you were clearly having a difficult time and he was observant enough to had noticed it.

The regret crashes into your chest like a tsunami. You wondered how he was feeling right now. You were considerably rude, surely that would hurt him. What if that gave him the impression that he was annoying? Because he most certainly was not! What have you done?

The thoughts swirled around your head like a brewing storm, threatening to explode at any moment. It didn't help that various parts of your body were still in pain and the only sound in the room was papers being shuffled and the clicking sounds of his keyboard. The pain gnawed at your flesh and the silence burgeoned your thoughts. There’s a lump in your throat and you’re not quite sure if you need to throw up from the pain or cry your eyes out. It was only when a single teardrop dripped onto the page below you that you realised you didn't want to be in the room anymore. You swiftly lifted your body from the chair and Isaac looked over at you right away. You couldn't return the notion; the bubbling pot of shame and regret wouldn’t let you.

"I uh,” your voice cracked and you're still unsure of what to say. "Excuse me."

You quickly push past the desk, rushing out the door. You were able to hold yourself together in front of him, but once outside, your emotions came tumbling over. The tears flowed freely down your cheeks, and you ran up the stairs to your room.

You threw yourself onto the sheets, your face buried into a pillow as your body folded into itself like an armadillo. It hurts so much. Your body, your mind, it all hurts. You sobbed into the pillow, squeezing it tightly against your chest for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, there was a gentle knock on the door, then a soft call of your name as the door slowly swung open. You didn't hesitate, discarding the pillow quickly to sit up and voice your scrabbled thoughts.

"Isaac I'm so sorry! I- I didn't mean to yell at you- I know you were just concerned and I should’ve listened to you when you said I could rest for today-"

He takes big steps towards the bed, immediately taking you in his arms.

"Shhhhh, calm down my love. It's okay."

You're gripping onto his shirt for dear life, sobbing into his chest but he doesn't care, he pulls you even closer engulfing you fully into his body. His arms were secure and protective around you as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. His voice is so gentle and soothing, and when combined with his hand caressing up and down your back, your choked sobs were simmered down to deep breathing in no time.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks and you nod.

"I'm sorry I was so rude to you." You were barely able to murmur.

"Are you still worried about that? I won't lie, I was taken by surprise but only because this has never happened to me before. I know you aren't feeling your best today, so I understand why it happened." He explained, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead. "Now, are you in any pain?"

You sigh, "Yeah, I think my cramps are extra bad this time."

"Do you want me to get you something to eat? Maybe I could make you some tea and I'll get you some painkillers."

"No!" You suddenly move and the pain stabs you sharply in your side. "Ah shit!"

"Careful, Pickle" Isaac helps you, guiding your body down onto the bed. "I'll go get you those pills, hold on for me okay?"

"Isaac, can't you just stay? Please?"

"I'll be back before you know it, just stay here for a couple minutes. You’re very strong, I’m sure you can handle just that right?"

He disappears out the door, but as promised, returns after a few minutes.

"This is all I could find." He presented a single pill to you with a glass of water. "I'll need to make sure we get some more and find other alternatives to help you. I've read that heating pads are very common, so I ordered you one."

You take the pill from his hand, washing it down with some water.

"When did you do all that?"

"Just now, before I came up here."

"So, I yelled at you and you were researching and ordering a heating pad for me? Now, I feel even more awful!" You body falls back down onto the bed.

"Don't. It happens to the best of us, I'm well aware frustration isn't easy to handle." He casually spoke while getting into bed next to you. He reached for the blanket while you nuzzled closer to him, pulling it over your bodies.

“Am I disturbing your work?” You ask.

“No, it can wait.” He was quick to dismiss the idea of work. “I was thinking, what should I make you for dinner?”

He rubs circles in your back, from top to bottom. The warmth from his hands and the effects on the painkillers relaxed your body and made your eyelids heavy.

“You’re gonna cook for me?” You yawn.

“What? Is my cooking not good?” He teased playfully.

You giggle at his response. “Hmm of course not, I love your food. But I don’t know, hmmm how about mashed potatoes?”

“Just mashed potatoes?”

“Yeah, that’s all I want.”

“Sounds easy enough.” He kisses the top of your head. “You should get some rest now.”

“You’ll stay with me, right?” You yawn again.

“Of course my love, and when you open your eyes again, I promise I’ll still be here.”

His gentle hand against your back, and comforting scent made your body heavy and lulled you to sleep in no time. You dreamt of him, and when you woke up again, he was still there with you, eyes closed and mellow breathing as he slept.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #isaac #isaac rhoades #zsakuva isaac #isaac x reader

[ot3]

tangentially related to 30 rock... i just finished watching girls5eva because its the level of sitcom that's fine for me to watch while working and someone brouht it up in my inbox a week or so ago. but when i saw the tiny fey EP credit i was like ahhh okay that makes sense.

showrunner of girls5eva was meredith scardino who was a writer on kimmy schmidt, which also tracks. the 30 rock dna is really trickling down through those shows and i can't tell if its getting weaker as it goes or if its just that since this style of humor is no longer novel it doesnt hit as well

girls5eva was fine i watched the whole thing (i accidentally started on season 3 and did not realize until it was finished. i dont know why netflix decided to start this show at season 3 for me when i hadnt watched the previous ones?) and it definitely had some funny moments but i felt it just like it wasn't quite getting where it needed to humor-wise for me. like all of the ribbing about the horrible misogyny and shit that was just Everywhere in the 00s was fun but i think over all just nothing about it was fresh in a way it would have needed to be to make the show stand out

i never finished kimmy schmidt but i do remember it being pretty funny. havnet watched it since the first few seasons were originally airing, maybe ill go back and do that to compare. but theres also something to be said for how much shorter every show has to be now. girls5eva is 3 seasons with 22 episodes total (dont know if its getting a 4th but it's still listed as 2021- on everywhere), kimmy schmidt was 4 seasons with 51 episode. meanwhile 30 rock had 7 seasons and 139 ! episodes. that's a pretty fucking significant difference. so it may be that just having more leeway to throw spaghetti at the wall gives you the chance to be funnier.

im not exactly tapped in to the sitcom market but i feel like it's been probably around a decade since we've gotten a new one that's really managed to produce what i view as stand-out and novel humor. definitely the best one since 30 rock has been community, but i also do think brooklyn 99 managed to really nail a lot of good Bits even if the way it made people act was intolerable a lot of the time. captain holt you will always be famous. but other than those 2 i don't think anything really groundbreaking has been done in the US sitcom landscape since the aughts

im sorry abbott elementary stans its perfectly enjoyable television but it's just like Doing a Parks and Rec again which was in turn Doing An Office But Twee itself.

[coconutredbulllover]

to everyone who has commented on the situation with paige and azzi id just like to say something

fans/people who actually have no clue and just know it happened and thats all don’t exactly feel the same empathy for the situation at the extent they would if they did know more, its a fact, people cant feel as bad for something if they dont know exactly what they’re feeling bad for. of course you can still feel extremely bad, a horrible and unforgivable thing happened but until you know what your actually feeling bad for its more like giving sympathy and condolences to a wall thats made of glass but its like the blurry type glass you cant really see through.

i dont reallt know if that made any sense but im basically trying to say that people who dont know and arent being informed since many people are staying silent in order to prevent spreading it, are like people who got told their dog went to a butterfly farm instead of being told it died. its like they were told a much much softer version of the real thing.

im not sure who or to what extent everyone on tumblr really knows about whats actually out there, but i just want ppl who only know the jist or general idea of what happened and even those who think they know or have seen all or most of it to know that it was actually alot that happened and the volume and extent of what happened was a really sickening thing to ever be informed of.

its insane paige was abt to come onto social media after just a weekend and be active, if you knew what i know then you would agree with me when i say paige is 100% only back on media rn to try and move peoples eyes past it and for pr reasons because thats whats best for the situation. she was most definitely not back after only a weekend ready to return to media just for the fun of it. they both are surrounded by a strong support system and while they may be smiling in the snippet of their lives we get to see, just know that putting up a strong front does not mean everything is okay and if u consider the extent of what happened it would be obvious that many signs point to them being very much not okay and that’s perfectly fine! they need time to heal from it and its not something you get over in a week. doing and feeling better doesnt mean actually being completely okay either healing takes time.

thank God its offseason and there isnt an actual full media spotlight on them right now, with how fast social media goes it likely wont be really talked about as a main focus in just a few weeks and its thankfully already starting to die down in just 1. i hope by the time the new season starts they feel alot better and the months will give them time to move past/through it and the world time to not remember or be focused on it.

im putting this on tumblr specifically because it is more of a hidden site compared to yk tiktok or twitter and likely wont spread anywhere crazy esp bc im keeping it low on actual details

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi

[back2thebasics]

Gojo X Reader - First post!

MDNI - 18+ - Fem Reader x Satoru Gojo

Gojo x Reader - Bad Reputation

Synopsis: You're tasked with being a publicist for Satoru Gojo. For most the job would be a dream come true but you dread the job because of his recent behavior. Nights out partying till 3 am and leaving with random women. You decide to schedule an in-person meeting to discuss his recent paparazzi pictures and his declining reputation. 

I drew the fanart myself and I will be posting it in a separate post.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s late as always. You watch as he casually strolls into the small restaurant without a care in the world. He wears a pair of black designer sunglasses and a mostly black outfit to match. It's a stark comparison to his icy white hair which is perfectly coiffed. He spots you and smiles wider in that cheeky grin that you have grown accustomed to. His long strides bring him to you in a few steps.

“Wow, look at you today. You're all dolled up. Is there a special occasion?” He teases and pulls out the chair across from you then plops down into it somehow remaining graceful. 

“These are just my professional clothes, also you're late. I've been waiting an hour for you. Where were you?” you ask, hiding most of your impatience.

“Sorry I was busy. I had to drop someone off.” He replies.

“Please tell me you were discreet about it.” You scrunch your brow knowing the answer already.

“Does it matter? You're the one who told me last week that I have a reputation as a womanizer.” Gojo’s piercing blue eyes barely visible beneath his shades. 

“Yeah but if you want that sponsorship to choose you over the other candidate, you're gonna have to clean up your act. They're looking for someone that is marketable to a wide audience not some playboy who is out clubbing every night.” You let your emotions show in your tone a little more. 

This man will make you go gray early with the way you have been juggling his public image. Despite everything you have gone through for his career, you found yourself thinking about him more than you should. 

“Alright whatever you say, darling. I'll tone it down but only on one condition.” Satoru leans forward propping his elbows on the table.

“What do you want?” You ask skeptically.

“Go on a night out with me. Not for work but just for fun. The rules are no thinking of work and if you hate it then you never have to do it again. I'll be good, but only if you let loose for one night. So what do you say?” Gojo quirks his head slightly waiting for your response.

“So just one night and you'll stop all the partying and the hookups? It seems way too easy, what's the catch?” You scrunch your brows not buying a word.

“Catch? There's no catch. I promise. Come on it’ll be fun. Think of it like a work trip, but it's all fun and no business. Sounds like fun right?” He tries to convince you flashing his perfect white teeth in an arrogant smile.

“Fine but no funny business okay, and I'm not leaving after the bar closes. I decide when it's time to go.” You set your terms. 

“Deal.” His smile is blinding.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few nights later…

You enter the club with Satoru following behind you. Of course he picked the most popular spot in the city. You have been to clubs before but you prefer the chill atmosphere of a nice bar instead of extremely loud music and sweaty bodies grinding against each other. You dressed up for the vibe of the place. A small tight black dress and heels paired with a full glam. If there are gonna be pictures of you two in the press at least you will look good. It is inevitable but after tonight he has promised to tone it down to make your job easier. All you have to do is get through the night. Should be easy right?

Gojo walks over to the VIP section immediately after the bouncer nods you in and lets you skip the long line outside. I guess being this famous has its perks. You feel a strong hand on the small of your back. You look back to see Gojo smile down at you and nod over to the bar. He leans down to say something in your ear so you can hear him over the music.

“Can I get you a drink, darling?” You feel his breath against your neck and it sends tingles down your spine. You blush and look over to the busy bar where there is another line forming.

“Yeah I guess one drink wouldn't hurt but it looks pretty busy we might have to wait a while.” You reply into his ear which is at a perfect height with him leaning down. He pulls back and smiles with a wink before continuing to lead you further into VIP. 

Hidden away in the back of VIP is a second bar that is way less busy and looks to have all the top shelf liquors. He leads you to a set of two leather armchairs on the left of the bar. He sits down in one of them and then motions for you to sit as well. 

“Shouldn't we go order?” 

Right as the question leaves your mouth a gentleman dressed in an all black suit approaches both of you carrying a tray. He sets down a carafe of ice water and a set of empty glasses.

“What can I get you and the lovely lady tonight Sir?” He questions seeming to know Gojo already. He must be a regular here. 

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.” He motions to you for your order.

“I’ll take a mojito.” You tell the server 

“Perfect, I will be back with those drinks in a minute.” The server goes to the bar and gives the order to the bartender. 

“So are you having fun yet?” Satoru starts the conversation. He sits leaning back in the chair his leg crossed like he owns the place. 

“Yeah, this place is nice.” You lie 

“Be honest with me. I can tell when you lie you have a horrible poker face you know.” He jokes looking around the club to the dance floor where an ocean of bodies grind to the music.

“Okay fine, you want me to be honest. Its too hot in here and I feel a little self conscious. I don't know its stupid. Nevermind.” You try to brush it off

“Self conscious? You look hot right now.” He flirts. 

“Satoru, stop your my boss, it's weird for you to say I'm hot.” Youre caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. Why is your heart racing suddenly?

“What? I can't say the truth? You are looking stunning this evening not that you don't look good everyday.” Gojo remains cool as a cucumber while you look more like a tomato from the harmless flirting. That’s all this is right? The server returns with the tray of drinks and places them down on the table next to the water. He leaves with a polite nod and you pick up your drink gulping it down needing a little buzz. Satoru takes a sip of his whiskey and sets it back down. He looks over at you with a look you've never seen from him before.

“Follow me I know somewhere less crowded.” He stands taking his drink with him. You do the same and don't have time to question anything before he walks towards a set of double doors. Once inside, you see that it's a pool room set up with 2 pool tables and some couches near the back. The room is completely empty and much cooler in temperature than the rest of the club. He grabs a pool cue from the wall and turns to face you with a cheeky smile.

“Have you ever played before?” He asks handing you the cue and grabbing one for himself. 

“No, I've never played. I don't know how.” You reply truthfully. You have no idea how to play and lying won't help you.

“That's okay I can teach you.” He says like it’s no big deal and then he walks over to you and stands behind you. He positions you and instructs you how to shoot but you can't focus with how close he is to you. You feel his strong chest pressing against your back and he gently cradles your arms to show you the proper hand placement. You know your face is probably beet red but you nod along to his explanations trying your best to listen to the rules of the game. 

After playing a couple games and him winning both of them you both sit on the couch to finish your drinks. You've been nursing your drink so you don't feel different from when you walked in.

“For a beginner, you're pretty good. Not everyone can keep up with me so that's a sign of natural talent.” He laughs leaning back into the leather sofa and taking a sip of his Whiskey. He has also been drinking slow which is surprising given his recent history of nights on the town.

“Or a sign that I have a good teacher.” You wink at him letting go a little.

“You're right, it's all about how well you listen to instruction.” His tone takes on a flirtatious tone.

Your eyes meet his, he has ditched his usual sunglasses tonight. His crystal clear eyes search yours like he is reading your thoughts. You hope he can't because it would be very embarrassing for you.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” He asks casually still keeping his eyes on you but they start to roam a little as he looks down at your body. You feel your cheeks heat more and you break eye contact. You try to control the flutters in the pit of your stomach at the inquiry.

“No.” Your answer is simple and softly spoken.

“That's good.” His reply is the same

“Why would that be a good thing?” You ask a little breathless from the way your heart rams into your chest again and again. 

“Because then I don't have any competition.” He smiles at you but his eyes are heated and his gaze still roams over your body.

“Woah wait a minute, I'm not some toy that you can play around with Satoru. If you brought me here to use like one of your hookups, then you've got it all wrong.” You stand up quickly the flutters dying out at the thought of being just another one of his conquests that he will drop off at 5am.

“Is that what you think of me? That I am just some playboy incapable of feeling something for someone without there being sex involved?” He asks quirking a brow. He sounds almost hurt that you see him that way.

“No, but I am your publicist I didn't exactly think you were flirting with me when I asked you to meet up so you could clean up your act.” You grab the wine glass and chug the rest of the red wine. 

“Why do you think I suddenly started acting out and bringing attention to myself when that wasn't an issue before?” Gojo chuckles downing the rest of his drink as well. He looks off pensively.

“What? So you did all that to get my attention. Trust me there are other ways to do that! I dont know a text or email would have done the job.” You pace in front of the couches running your hand through your hair. The last 2 month's worth of stress pushing down on you, the late nights trying to get bad paparazzi pictures off the internet were just the tip of the iceberg. 

“That's lame and so not my style. I must admit the first time was an accident and then when you called me and got all mad at me I just thought it was… I don't know cute.” He watches you pace his eyes following your movement. 

“Cute!? It was not cute, I’ll tell you that. It was stressful and infuriating to see pictures of you drunk with some random girl leaving a club every night. Do you know how hard it is to get paparazzi to delete stuff like that? I had to pay off so many people. Yeah sure it was with your money but still!” You vent not even caring that he is your boss anymore. He put you through this so he gets to sit here and listen to your rant.

“Another thing that got me hooked was seeing you get jealous. Although you might not admit it to me. Every time you would call I could hear it in your voice.” Gojo looks amused but you can tell he is being serious.

“I am not!” The lie leaves your lips and as it does, the realization hits you. You are jealous.

The silence confirms it.

“Fine. Maybe I am a little jealous but what does it matter? I'm still your publicist.” You grumble crossing your arms in defiance.

He stands up towering over you and he walks over to you standing close enough that you need to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“Then I'll just fire you. Simple as that.” Satoru says it like it's the simplest logical answer.

“What? No! You don't have to fire me. Just tell me what you want.” You look up into his ocean eyes searching to see if he is joking, but it is the most serious you've ever seen him. He usually has a laid back nonchalance to him but not right now. His heated gaze and the way he leans into you intently the tension between the two of you is electrifying.

“I am interested in you and I have never been this intrigued by someone before. So if you will agree I would like to see where this goes.” Gojo looks at you with desire and yearning. You can see that he has been thinking about this a lot. 

“Okay fine we can see where this goes but I am going to be honest I don't know where to start.” You look away feeling embarrassed. You don't have a lot of experience and especially not in situations like these. Does he want to go on a proper date or skip all that stuff? 

“Maybe we can start here.” You feel his hand gently grasp your chin as he turns you towards him to look at him once more. He leans in and has to bend down to accommodate for the height difference. Your breath catches in your throat and threatens to leap out of your chest. He gets closer and the instinct to close your eyes takes over as his lips finally meet yours. There are instant sparks and something inside you snaps. Your lips press together and the kiss intensifies as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You can't stop the moan that comes from you and he pulls away smirking.

“We can slow it down.” Gojo looks like he is holding himself back. The thought of stopping makes your stomach twist. You want him too.

“No.” The response is rushed and breathless.

Satoru pulls you in for another kiss. This one is more hungry and intense than the last. You let out another soft moan and his hands slide down to cup your ass. The hem of your dress is near the tips of his fingers and if he wanted to, he could pull your dress off in one quick motion. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of that happening. He pulls away again and his face remains inches away from yours.

“Should I lock the door?” he asks his voice low because of the close proximity. 

You simply nod not wanting to fumble over a response and ruin the moment. You have had sex before but something about Satoru Gojo is different. 

He makes you feel shy and flustered. As he turns to go lock the door, you watch him saunter away with his usual walk but a little more rushed. You admire his wispy white locks that you resisted gripping when you were kissing. Your gaze travels down his muscled back towards the narrow hips that make his shoulders look bigger. Then you stare at his butt a little, his tight dress pants make it look so cute and you think about how he would react if you tried to grab it. The thought makes you smile and you don't notice how quickly he has turned around because he catches you staring at his ass.

“Are you enjoying what you see beautiful?” He taunts teasingly as he strides over to you.

“Oh, my god I was definitely not checking you out.” You laugh trying to play off the embarrassment. 

“Oh, you definitely were.” Gojo reaches you and his body backs you into the nearest pool table. He boxes you in and places his strong forearms on either side of you. He leans down and your heart rate picks up

“So where were we?” He asks in a sultry voice,

“I don't know you tell me.” You reply with a slight challenge.

He responds with actions instead of words and he pulls you into another passionate kiss. He slides his large hands down your body and then when he reaches your ass he surprises you by lifting you up and setting you down on the edge of the pool table. It adjusts your height difference and he no longer needs to bend down to reach your lips. Now that you are the same height you lace your arms around his neck and the previous urge to run your fingers through his hair overpowers you. His hair is so soft and fine that it feels like silk and you hear a low rumble coming from Gojo when you gently grip it in between your fingers.

His large hands grip your hips and he pulls you in even closer until you are pressed up against him and you can feel something hard pressing against your lower stomach. You moan into the kiss and slide one hand down from his neck to his crotch once you reach your target your hand lightly rubs over it over his pants and he nips your bottom lip before pulling away. He pulls back far enough so he can look you in the eyes and he looks conflicted.

“If we keep this up. I- “He huffs, cutting himself off and then he continues.

“I don't want you to think this is just about sex.” His tone turns more serious and his eyes search yours to see what you're feeling.

“I didn't mean what I said earlier. You're right, I was jealous when I saw you with those girls but I pushed it away because I thought the feeling was stupid.” You reply telling him the truth.

All those photos you saw and all the times you wished you were the woman in the picture with him. Now that fantasy was coming true.

“You know I never actually hooked up with any of those girls in the photos. I only escorted them home because they were too drunk.” Gojo tells you and from his sincere expression you can tell he isn't lying.

“So you were just being some hero all along making sure women got home safe. Here I was stressing that you were going off the rails.” You can't help but laugh.

“I’m not a hero for doing the right thing, I'm just a responsible owner.” He replies casually.

“Owner? You own this place?” You question shocked. You knew he had a few properties in the city but he didn't mention he owned clubs. 

“Yeah this one and a few others you have probably already seen me leaving. All for work purposes. Did I have a drink or two on the job, of course, but I wasn't there to party like you thought. Was I going to tell you that? Absolutely not. All because of those phone calls I'd get from you the next morning where you’d scold me and use your cute little annoyed voice. I'm sorry it caused you stress, but I didn't know how to get you to talk to me more.” Gojo smiles at you and he looks almost nervous. 

You making him nervous gives you the confidence to say what you're thinking without restraint.

“You know, it’s funny, because I used to fantasize about being one of those girls. I would imagine what it would be like to be with “The Satoru Gojo” and I would think of all the things you would do to me. I always repressed those thoughts thinking I was delusional for thinking about you that way.” You recall the nights you stayed up tossing and turning over your confused feelings for your client. 

Satoru grasps your chin and smiles devilishly at you.

“Is that so? You've been thinking about me. What do I do to you in these fantasies?” He questions you teasingly, and it sends a new wave of heat through your body.

“You see me on a night out and you order me a drink then you kiss me and we fuck in the bathroom of the club or your car.” You tell him exactly what you picture in your mind.

“Well lucky for us being the boss comes with a bit more privacy.” He jokes and leans in again.

You kiss him with need and undo his pants and he gently lifts your ass to pull up your tight black dress. You help him by lifting your ass a little so he can successfully take off your dress. You're left in a black lacy set that you chose to go with the black satin dress. You're happy you decided on a matching set tonight not thinking anyone would see it especially not Gojo. He admires your body and pulls down his pants leaving him in tight black boxers. He unbuttons his shirt his eyes tracing over every single inch of your exposed skin.

You take your turn admiring his body when he finally peels off his shirt to reveal sculpted abs, and a broad muscled chest. You can't help but touch as you place your hands over his warm chest. His beautiful ivory skin, decorated with beauty marks like the finishing touches to an artist's masterpiece. 

“There are no words for a sight like this. You are absolutely breathtaking my darling.” He glides his hands over your thighs which are parted around his hips. He suddenly seems to get an idea and you watch as he lowers himself to kneel in front of you. You still sit on the edge of the pool table so his face is now eye level with your lacy black thong.

“How about I help you relieve some of the stress I caused in the past 2 months. It's the least I can do.” His confident borderline arrogant cadence turns you on even more. 

“Well, I guess you're right. I would like compensation for the gray hairs and the frown lines I will develop soon.” You joke but run your fingers through his hair and he makes a low humming sound in his chest as he slowly pulls your thong down your thighs. He looks you in the eye and you keep your hand gripped in his hair as he reveals your soaking wet pussy. Gojo grips the back of your knees and in one swift moment he scoops you up so your bottom half is dangling off the pool table being supported by his strong grip on your thighs. You let go of his hair and lean back on your elbows on the soft velvet table and watch as he kisses your inner thighs trailing down to your core. You enjoy the sight of it and feel your pussy getting even wetter. He finally reaches your dripping slit and licks a trail from the bottom of your opening to your clit. You gasp and let out a soft moan.

“Mm, you taste so sweet beautiful” He looks up at you with sparkling blue eyes and you grip his hair a little tighter.

He goes back to your core and focuses on your clit sucking it gently and flicking his tongue. Your eyes roll back and your head falls back as you release a breathy moan. He keeps the suction from his lips around your clit and teases a finger at your entrance. He enters it slowly and your hips squirm enjoying the slightly larger size than your own. Your moans grow louder as he begins to curl the finger hitting your g spot just right. He increases the suction and speed and it tips you over the edge. You've never come this fast in your life and your legs begin to shake uncontrollably. You ride the orgasm and he doesn't stop until you're coming down from the second wave. 

“Does that feel better? I love seeing you come for me.” He praises you looking at you with the most satisfied smirk. 

“I want you Satoru.” Your response is breathy and comes out as a plea. Your throbbing pussy aches for him. 

You sit up and he stands up so you can see the thick outline of his large shaft through the tight black fabric of his briefs. You help him pull it down and off and you watch as his large cock springs free of the restrictive material. 

Your mouth almost waters at the sight of it and you make a mental note to return the favor later. He surprises you when he picks you up and you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him giggling a little when he walks the both of you to the nearest couch where he puts you down. His large body hovers above yours as he lines his tip to your slick entrance. He enters nice and slow and you feel as he fills you inch by inch until his full length is inside you. 

“Fuck, you're so tight baby.” Gojo readjusts himself and then slowly pulls out to push back in. You're not used to someone his size so there is a slight discomfort but it only lasts a few thrusts and then it’s replaced with pleasure. You moan as he picks up the pace slightly and gently squeezes your tit with one hand while the other keeps him from crushing you with his body weight. He leans back and you watch him fuck you slowly. Then he slowly increases pace looking into your eyes. 

“You are so pretty when you’re under me moaning on my cock.” He praises you his heated gaze admiring you. He takes both of your hands and pins them above your head with one hand. You feel a rush of pleasure as your pussy clenches.

“Satoru fuck that's so good.” You moan out.

“Oh you like that beautiful. I felt your tight little pussy grip my cock.” 

“Yes I love it so much.” You reply feeling hazy from the pleasure. Gojo teases your nipple with his thumb and index and the slight twinge of pain when he plucks sends a rush of wetness to your already soaked cunt. He grunts taking on a fast slightly rougher pace. He pumps into you holding onto your legs so he can spread you wide for him. He reaches down with one hand and rubs circles on your clit with his thumb. Your moans get louder and needier as you climb up to the peak of another orgasm. It crashes into you just as strongly as the first one and you see stars as he pounds you through the toe curling climax. Once you're finished, he does not stop. He fucks you hard and fast, pounding into you. You feel yourself building to a third orgasm, Satoru's pace does not slow and his hand returns to your clit. He pushes you to climax once more just as he reaches his own. He pulls out swiftly to cum on your abdomen. You watch as he releases, and the sight is magnificent. Gojo leans forward to kiss your forehead and then he peppers kisses down your face until he reaches your lips where he gives you another deep passionate kiss. He pulls away and quickly walks over to a bar cart in the room containing a few cloth napkins. He grabs a few and returns to you to clean up your stomach. You watch as he cleans you attentively making sure to clean it properly. He helps you put on your underwear and dress before he dresses himself. 

“Now I'm sure you're already aware about the paparazzi waiting for us outside. I will hold your hand the whole time just close your eyes for the bright flashes, and I'll lead you to my car.” He tells you caressing your hair.

“Oh, trust me I came prepared for that. That was also part of my fantasy.” You joke and he laughs and gives you a kiss before leading both of you out through the back where a small crowd of paparazzi stand in the back alley. 

The flashes are blinding but you close your eyes and let the strong hand guide you. You trust him and while he leads you to his car. You remember seeing those pictures of him in this exact spot. Now you're the one leaving the club with him and as the camera flashes surround you, you can't help but smile.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #reader x satoru #gojo x reader

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

smthn shitty i made for my chinese final ft. the only 4 vsynths i currently have that natively support mandarin chinese

#my video lol #vocaloid #synthesizer v #synth v #zhiyu moke #moke zhiyu #aiko synthv #chiyu synthv #mai synthv #I CAN FINALLY POST THIS NOW. god. i have one more day and then hell is (until next term) over. GRAHHHH #i am feeling Not Great about things lately 🥴 so just take this even tho its not that good pls someone appreciate it #I Just Have To Make It Through This Week. And Then The Next. And Th #ill be fine ill be on break SOON so I GET TO DO SHIT AGAIN!! FUCKGIN FINALLY IM SO EXHAUSTED #also lol if anyone's curious about those lyrics they translate to smthn among the lines of #1234567. where are your friends? here? here! your friends are here.

[hollypies]

Was finally gonna do art today but NOPE something weird is going on with my med school lab work and now I have to figure it out AND I also don't know if I'm even supposed to go tomorrow because I CANT REMEMBER IF I EVEN SIGNED UP but ALSO I HAVE ANOTHER LAB THATS THE SAME ONE IVE ALREADY DONE TWICE !!! You're only supposed to do a lab TWICE I am fully, FULLY AWARE I've done this lab twice but my shitty brain is being shitty and now everything sucks and of course my mom thinks I'm gonna have to re enroll because reasons completely out of my control but COMPLETELY in hers ffs if I make it through this week without having a complete mental break I'm gonna fucking celebrate

#holly rambles #sorry. im not super upset just. annoyed. aggravated #prommy im not about to cry! oof. school. if only id gone to public school id be more socially trained #i see an average of maybe . 7 people a week . as you can imagine i have now irl friends LMAO #im fine. its fine. i am going to get through this #anyway i wanna draw mikebit again hnnng. plus that zelda comic is. gonna be a while / might never be finished/ depends on how mt adhd feels

[monstriiss]

.

#gonna get kinda heavy in the tags since im stuck on mobile and cant drop a read more but i need to vent fam squad #god I want to come back but i just don't know how to talk #like i feel like i cant just spring back into conversation like everything is okay and fine #because its not and i dont know how to get over the mental barrier of talking about normal things #it's a really weird feeling and i know im isolating myself but i just dont know what else to do #like i can talk to my family that were there for it. i can talk to people that have been through it #idk i just feel really disconnected #my friends try to talk to me about things and i just cant relate anymore #and they dont get it either. none of my friends have lost their parents and especially havent seen someone die #and they dont know how to talk about it so now its like none of us bother #theres things that happened that i cant say and tbh im pretty haunted #to them its been ages since mum died but to me its only two weeks and still feels like yesterday #i think im pulling away just so i dont have to deal with the hurt of being dropped first #im glad that i have some good close friends that i CAN talk to about things and im so grateful for them #but hoooo boy everything hits different now #tiejfkeie boy am i glad i get to see my therapist tomorrow dkfjskfndk #;; ooc. #death tw #parent death tw #negative tw #;; tbd.

[lbhslefttiddie]

I haven’t seen you around much here lately, so I just wanted to say I hope you’re doing well ^^ . If you have any life challenges going on right now, I believe in you to conquer them!!!

thank you!!! the life challenges is my phone and computer both had a stroke and died within a month of each other 😔 it was super cursed but im cool im being very brave about it

#asks #to be more specific my phones circuit board got yoasted basically overnight #i had to get a new one and any data not saved to The Cloud or stored externally went byebye #it wasn tthat big a deal but it didnt mean i had to go through all my apps and re log myself in #only for some reason i just Would Not log on to tumblr. like the brain wasnt allowing it #which mught have something to do with how fucking embarrassing it is (for me only) that i did one (1) day of 79 week and then ate shit #anyways while i was grappling with the executive dysfuntion about all that. guess what happened to my fucking computer. #and then three days later my partner's pc ALSO broke outta nowhere???? any advice on handling technology based curses is welcome #and i was sort of like!!! i guess this is one way for the universe to tell be to take a break!!!! #so i spent a month doing other shit. playing ps4 games mostly #and then i got SUPER into cult of the lamb and went fucking insane with the need to see fanart for thos stupid fucking catboy #so i finally got back into my tumblr account :] #and now i am going insane with how much i want to do art!!!! and cannot do art!!!!!!! because i still dont have a computer!!!!!! #we're working on it its just taking some time #tldr im fine just silly and possibly cursed

[elmmni]

utilizing the power of gay love and my girlfriend believing in me to push through the 11 pages of writing due Thursday o7

#she believes and i cant keep worrying her by joking about jumping into traffic #got 2 pages done tonight in the last like 45 minutes after locking in so i only have 5 left to finish one so i can do that in like 3 hours? #and then the other is only 4 pages so i can do it #the power of gay love and adhd focus music is gonna get me through finals i can feel it #i literally just have to get to friday and im clear ill only have 4 more assignments after that and 2 of them im already mostly done with #and the other 2 arent due until next friday and should be quick #and exams are next week but thats fine im a good test taker ill be okay #maybe its midnight delusions maybe im just pulling through whos to say #she speaks?? #girlfriend tag <33

[stayteezdreams]

Sorry for still not posting. Things are still a bit complicated and rough in my personal life.

xx

#post #update #sort of #delete later #Im still here #just lurking and relogging mostly #I do want to write but my brain wont really let me #i guess for some context: my dad and mom were sick and in and out hospitals since january this year #my dad ended up on hospice and died two weeks later (on Feb 28th) #my mom came home but her health is not well either #I have been her caretaker for over 5 years #its getting to the point where she might end up on hospice too #she might be in End Stage COPD #she goes through phases of being perfectly fine #to needing to be watched and taken care of 24/7 #so its been rough #dl #personal #I am also dealing with probate and estate stuff with my dads death #we are tight on money and stressed #and there is also a brother who is deciding to make my life hell #so yeah... #things are rough #bare with me #lol #i'll be back eventually I just hope you guys are still here #<3

[bmpmp3]

I NEEED to go back to making art that makes it ABUNDANTLY clear that theres something wrong with my brain BUT NOT in a cool or stylishly interesting way. i need to do it in a way that makes people say "hm." and walk away

#sowwy ive been kinda going through it in my fine arts major rn can u tell HJKSDHKFd #ive been feeling like. scared. and paralyzed by marketability and branding. #i cant stop thinking about how other people will see my art. but not like in a good way #when i was younger i thought about it in a good way. like hee hee hoo hoo the act of looking connected us hee hee #but rn i keep thinking about it in like this wretched like consumer product mindset? ouhhghhhhh el problema es el capitalismo #and like maybe this works for some people. to think like this. to make art like this. its what my professors push me towards #not intentionally. they dont say it out loud at least. im not sure if they know or not some of the irony #my professors are nice and pretty smart and talented and i like em. but sometimes i wonder like. the push for us as students to make like #marketable 'avant garde'? stuff thats safe but pretending to be weird and out there #i dont mean to sound pretentious. in general i play it too safe myself (spent too much time as an edgy 10 year old with my #parents freaking out over my shoulder because they think the fact that i drew an anime character frowning means something serious LOL) #but i dunno man. my least interesting art with the least amount of care thought or effort always gets so much more attention in school #nowhere else oddly. online? people like my more passionate but seemingly frivolous art (oc art etc. not frivolous to me but yknow how it is #same with irl artists and other industry people outside my school. whats going on in my school LOL #i know from experience i cant push myself into a supposedly marketable brand. if i try to make something sell it will not. #i dont know why. maybe theres an invisible essence buyers can tell when i didnt care jkfsldjdfrds #but my teachers LOOOOVE the stuff i put no passion in its so bizarre orz but i gotta relearn how to ignore half of their advice #i used to be better at it. but i also only used to ignore like a quarter of their advice. maybe i need to amp up how much im ignoring #that sounds mean. they have plenty of good advice. but also plenty of advice thats clouded by their own biases #and i gotta relearn how to sort out this stuff again. i forget every few months for some reason #you know i always think ouuhhhhh i act so neurotypical ouhhhhhhhhh im outgoing i talk to strangers all the time i seem confident #im so masked IM SO MASKED but then i go a couple weeks where every conversation i have has people looking at me like #i have two heads and neither of them are speaking their language. and then i descend into madness like this HJKLDSHJDS #i'll be fine i'll figure it out. i need to stop trying to get a good grade in being a 'cutting edge' conventional artist <3 #i need to just. draw my cartoon characters in peace 😔😔😔