#vending-computer

[cryptid-stimming]

🐒 Code Monkey - Jonathan Coulton 💻 Stimboard

x x x / x x x / x x x

[dreamer-ame]

windows café

[drowsy-dreamwalker]

do you do anything outside of trials? or are you stuck at the campfire

"I also like using the washing machines they have."

[shieldborn]

The gauge in front of Corrin refused to move down, the needle slowly climbing higher and higher. She groaned and let her forehead bonk against the display before climbing back down in front of the exposed wires that Trip had been walking her through.

"It's still building up too much pressure. I need…" The decompression won't trigger because the computer is still displaying clear levels. Despite the mocking red needle, the automatic release system isn't set up to take readings after the second valve, because usually the vents take care of it. "If you open access panel 17B you'll find, um, part of a protein resequencer panel."

If the heat from the engine block wasn't already sticking her bangs to her forehead, Corrin would have started sweating. It was made worse with only the comms connecting them, Corrin unable to do anything but wait, imagining Trip prying the panel free. "Hey, Commander, it's nothing to worry about but you should know it's a little--"

"bonkers fucking yonkers" | from @entriprises

His voice was muffled through the level between them, but she could just make it out overlapping with the comm. She really had meant to get the panel switched out, but she hadn't had time to set up an order last time they were docked. And if the fix had stayed operational, well…

"I had to patch it in as a relay after the Conatarri system… if you patch a second signal through it'll start a loop and force a fail state. It's one of the safety protocols to stop duplicate signals from overwhelming the synthesizer at the mess hall, but it should interrupt the pressure readings and force it to vent as an error response…" She's rambling. She knows she's rambling, but she's nervous and she hasn't been prepared for Commander Trip Tucker of all people to have to dig into her work. The work she was so proud of this morning suddenly felt inexperienced and inefficient when imagining it through the eyes of another. She wasn't sure if the ticking clock or the chewing out she was going to get later made her more nervous.

[reiverreturns]

soft and gentle psa: I don't mind terribly if you're rude to me, but if you treat me like I'm a machine instead of a fully realised person I will afford you the same courtesy and block/report your ass as fast as the captcha winds will carry me. hope that helps.

[kinialohaguy]

Checkout

Aloha kākou. The Age of Automation is upon us. Have you ever tried to chit-chat with a checkout machine? I remember going to the corner convenience store for quick items. You could gas your vehicle, check the tire pressure, check the oil, get the fluids topped. Run inside the general store and grab some drinks and snacks for the road. Talk-story with the cashier. These Mom-and-Pop shops were…

[mantarain]

at work and its me and this outdated pos system against the world

[myth1cs]

Love Warning (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

A bit longer, a little more story with smut at the end to wrap it up.

Word Count: 5,428

"Y/N you can't be serious! Do you know how much I pay you?!"

"Momo it isn't about the money."

You were Momo's secretary ... well not for much longer. You decided you wanted to do more with your life and get a different job. You weren't leaving because your new job would pay more but because it was something you were generally interested in. Being a secretary behind a desk all day every day just wasn't your type of life style.

When you came to that realization you submitted your 2 week notice to Momo and that's what led you to this situation.

"Come on Y/N just name your price and I'll get it for you. Just please don't leave the company you're the best secretary I've had."

"Its not about that. I'm just so tired of spending my life behind a desk looking at the computer."

Momo grabbed your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye. "Y/N please I can't lose you. I don't think I'll ever find someone with half of the expertise that you have."

A soft sigh left you. You fully understood the company was pretty much being carried by you and it would likely see a loss of income if you left but didn't want this to be the reason that you continue to live a boring life.

"My decision is final Momo. I won't change my mind, please understand my decision." You pushed Momo's hands off of your shoulder and left her office.

As soon as you closed the door Momo clenched her fist. "You filthy swine Y/N! After everything I've done for you this is how you repay me? I helped you pay off your student loans, helped you find your first house, I even extended your deadlines which made all the investors yell at me. You won't be leaving the company."

The following day

You walked into work just like any day. You wanted to avoid talking to Momo as much as possible. It's not that you didn't want to see her its just that you didn't want to have any more unnecessary arguing between you two.

"Y/N it's good to see you. How have you been?" Your coworker Han Ji-sung greeted you. It was strange though. Usually Han is someone who keeps to himself. Usually he doesn't interact with you or anyone for that matter so why was he suddenly being talkative towards you?

"I'm fine Han and you?"

"I've been doing well Y/N. I've finally decided to start talking to others instead of being locked inside my cubicle all day."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

"Want to grab a snack in the break room with me before you get to work?"

"Sure why not. I skipped breakfast this morning so I could go for a quick snack."

You walked with Han into the break room only to realize it was different from the last time you saw it. Now there were a variety of things in there from vending machines, arcade games, a TV, consoles, and even a variety of board games. "Since when did this room get a renovation?"

"Didn't you hear? Momo actually went ahead and renovated the break room after we all left. It must've cost her a lot of money huh?"

"Momo did all of this?" To say you were a bit shocked would be an understatement. You weren't dumb you knew that she likely did all of this to encourage you to stay but you didn't know she would go this far.

"Honestly I'm glad to know that our boss actually cares about our well being. I always felt like she gave off cold vibes but I'm glad I was proven wrong."

"She probably doesn't care much for you, she's likely just doing this to convince me to stay." You thought to yourself. You didn't have the heart to tell Han that Momo likely wasn't doing this out of the kindness of her own heart.

"Yeah ... she really is a great boss huh?"

"Are those my two favorite employees Han and Y/N? It's so nice to see you two here." Momo went up to the both of you and put one of her hands on Han's shoulder and the other on yours.

"Han go ahead and go home today you deserve it."

"A-are you sure Mrs. Hirai?"

"Of course now go ahead and go home."

You waited for Han to leave before you spoke up. "Momo isn't this a bit too much?"

"Mhm? What do you mean Y/N?"

"Don't act dumb. I know you did this to try to keep me here."

"Y/N this isn't about you. I did this cause I thought that the break room could use a renovation."

"H-have you been sleeping?" You noticed Momo sounded tired. You could tell she was acting energetic. Was she really neglecting sleep over you leaving?

"What? Of course I have! What kind of question is that?!"

You let out a sigh filled with concern "Momo I understand you want me to stay but still you shouldn't be doing this to yourself."

She let out a soft chuckle "I already told you it isn't about that. I respect your decision. I'll be in my office if you need me."

What should you say? Should you stop her? "No there's always the chance I'm wrong. Her business doesn't involve me." is what you thought to yourself but you couldn't shake a nagging feeling in your head. You had a feeling you'd find out what it is sooner rather than later.

-

That Night

You were supposed to have clocked out an hour and a half ago. But here you were hiding under your desk waiting for everyone to leave. You wanted proof, you had to see it with your own eyes. Was Momo really neglecting sleep?

The last employee Yu Jimin (Karina) left and you peaked over your desk.

"She's the last one. Now I'm alone, what could convince Y/N to stay? Ah I know but I need to start now or else I won't finish in time."

Momo grabbed her keys for her car and left the office.

"Sh-shes really doing this to keep me around. Shit this is bad I have to make a choice where neither option is good I either stay and continue doing a job I hate for the rest of my life or I leave. But I can't stand watching this. She is probably stressed out because of me so leaving isn't an option but neither is staying here!"

Unsure what to do you stayed around and waited for Momo to return. "Shit, shit, shit what do I do? Why are you stubborn Momo just give up on me I'm not worth it."

After waiting a while you finally heard the doors open.

"What are in the bags she's carrying?"

"Fuck I got lost in the store. I need to get started now."

Momo rushed into the office and started to get what she bought out of the bags. It was ... decorations?

She went around and decorated the office to make it look nice. "But what could possibly be the occasion?" You questioned yourself. You couldn't do anything but watch as your boss ran around putting up decorations.

As much as it pained you seeing your boss run around even though she was clearly tired you were also getting tired. "No not now." you thought to yourself. But it didn't last long eventually your tiredness got the best of you and you fell asleep.

-

Morning

Momo finished decorating the office. She never noticed you hiding under your desk likely due to her exhaustion. You woke up sitting on the cold floor cramped under your desk.

"Ouch I'm never sleeping on the floor again."

You picked yourself up and looked around. You quickly noticed the decorations in your office and decided to check the time. It was still before opening hours. You started to wonder where Momo was in all of this and how she didn't find you when she was decorating your office.

But did you really have time to ponder that? Shouldn't you try to leave before Momo catches you in the building?

As if right in queue Momo walked in the building carrying bags. "Hopefully they should stay warm until Y/N gets here. If not I hope he's okay with reheated food."

"She brought food? But why?" Many questions raced through your head and you considered if you should confront her about this. "Should I confront her? No if I try to confront her now she'll likely be more defensive. If I want to get a real answer from her I'm going to have to do it at the right moment but when would be a good moment for me to get her to tell me the truth." For you this was beyond trying to keep you in the company. Momo must have ulterior motives for trying to keep you around. "Even if she thinks I'm a good employee worth keeping around she wouldn't go to this length to get me to stay so what is it?"

"Maybe I should try to get her to come out and drink with me. But if I do it suddenly she might get suspicious. Ah I got it I'll do it on my last day here at work and will just use the fact that it's my last day as an excuse."

You finally had a plan in mind to get the "truth" from Momo. Now you just had to keep hiding until your shift started so you could "suddenly" show up.

Momo was walking by putting in the finishing touches but suddenly your stomach growled. Since you skipped dinner by staying in the office and hadn't had breakfast you were hungry and your stomach was trying to tell you that but it unintentionally alerted Momo that someone was in the office building. "Is someone there?"

You tried to think of something to do but it was too late she was already heading towards your location. You did the only thing you could think of and that was to pretend you were still asleep.

"Y/N?!"

She found you sitting under your desk.

"Guess he must've fell asleep. But why did he choose to sleep under his desk?" She had many questions but didn't want to disturb you. "Come on Y/N let me put you on the couch." Momo picked you up and carried you to the break room.

But you did notice something while she was carrying you. It was almost as if your heart was speeding up when she laid her hands on you. You also noticed her smell, she smelled perfect. You wanted to be able to smell her scent all day long and were a bit sad when she finally laid you down on the couch in the break room.

"I should've gotten a blanket for the break room" Momo thought to herself. She decided on taking off her jacket and used it to cover you in order to keep you warm.

Momo got a good look at you "Ugh Y/N why do you have to be so ... wait he's sleeping and no one is around so before he wakes up I could ... no wait what am I thinking?! I shouldn't think this!"

She ran out of the break room and that was your queue to "wake up."

Before you got up you took a moment to compose yourself. Your heart was still beating fast from when she carried you to the break room. "All she did was carry me so why is my heart beating fast?"

After a few minutes you were able to compose yourself and left the break room. It was 20 minutes before the office opened.

You didn't see Momo anywhere so you decided to check her office. As you made your way to the office you noticed how the building was decorated. She must've put in a lot of effort while you were sleeping. Honestly you were surprised she did all of this on her own.

Walking up to her door took a deep breath and lightly knocked on her door. "Y/N is that you? Come in."

Opening the door you saw Momo behind her desk working. "I see you finally woke up. Were you crunching numbers too hard yesterday and decided to take a nap under your desk?" You weren't expecting her to have the current demeanor she had but decided to go along with it.

"Yeah I guess I was overworking myself. It didn't help that I stayed up until 1am the night before."

"Geeze Y/N you tell me to get better sleep when I think you should be focusing on yourself."

"Actually I saw the building was decorated did you-"

"No it wasn't me. I actually hired people to come and decorate it."

"You're lying." You thought to yourself.

"What's the occasion?"

"Well today is Karina's birthday. I think it would be a nice change if from now on the building was decorated for peoples birthdays."

"Oh really? Well that's nice but what event should we hold to celebrate?"

"Event?"

"Well yeah, Are you a boring person? I bet you're the type of person that held the most boring parties during college."

"That's not true Y/N! I am a fun person to be around!"

"Prove it to me then."

"How do you want me to prove it to you?"

"Mhm ... How about we go to the bar on my last day. It'll be my treat."

"Fine, I'll show you just how fun of a person I can be Y/N."

"Well I'll see you then Momo."

"Y/N wait do you want to get breakfast with me?"

"Breakfast?"

"Since it'll be a few more minutes before work starts I thought it'd be a nice gesture."

Before you could answer your stomach growled and Momo took that as a yes before you said so. She grabbed your hand "Alright let's go!"

There it was again the butterflies you felt. As Momo was leading you somewhere you were stuck looking at her face, her warm soft hand was wrapped around yours and you were hoping she wouldn't let go.

-

"We're here Y/N. Let's eat inside!" She let go of your hand which made you a little upset inside.

"Welcome, What would you two like to order?"

-

Both of you were seated at a table waiting for your food. Momo was looking around the area and decided to look at the ceiling.

"Y/N look we're under a mistletoe! Should we kiss?"

"I - I - uhm..." Your face was turning red. You looked up and confirmed that you both were sitting under a mistletoe. You knew she said it in a joking manner and likely wasn't being serious but a part of you was hoping she was being serious.

Momo was leaning forward slowly. You noticed and also started to lean forward.

Before your lips could meet the waiter came to deliver the breakfast you both ordered.

They set your food on the table and smiled "I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

That was enough to snap both you and Momo back into your current situation which caused both of you to jump back on your seats.

"No wait it isn't what it looks like!" Momo exclaimed.

"Don't worry couples come here to share romantic moments all the time."

Unsure of whether you should correct them you looked at Momo to see if she would take the initiative to do but she gave you the same look.

"Well if that's all I'll leave you both to it."

"Y - Y/N I'm sorry I got carried away."

"No I don't mind."

Eating in silence you were waiting to see if Momo would break the silence or if maybe you should.

"Uhm anyways Y/N ... how would you suggest I dress for when we go out drinking?"

"Just anything you want."

"So just whatever I find comfortable?"

"Yeah, It's supposed to be a relaxing event for us so just whatever you want to wear will work."

After finishing breakfast you both returned to the office.

-

5 days until Y/N's last day

You wanted to talk about one of your coworkers to see if anyone else has noticed Momo's change in behavior.

"Mina sorry to bother you while your on break but do you have a minute?"

Myoui Mina was the one directly below you. She was also the person who'd most likely replace you once you left.

She put her phone in her pocket before looking up at you "Go ahead Y/N what's up?"

"Have you noticed Momo's behavior change in the past week or so?"

"Yeah I thought that much was obvious."

"W-wait you knew and you haven't done anything about it?"

"Y/N our job is to sit behind the computer and type some numbers in every now and then. It's better not to get involved in things that don't relate directly to us. You might find something you don't like."

"What are you saying?! Momo could be going through some hard times and you're okay with doing nothing?"

"Even she's replaceable."

"You piece of-"

"Calm down Y/N everything is going to be fine."

"And I'm assuming you know more than you're letting on."

"Of course, but you already know you won't get that information out of me."

"Pft ... bitch."

"Y/N if I may ask why do you care so much? After all your leaving in five days, whether or not this company burns to the ground shouldn't be of any concern to you."

"I - I just care alright? It's basic human sympathy."

"No it's not that. You have never been that type of person. Wait don't tell me you have a little crush on our boss don't you Y/N?"

"What?! No I don't!"

Mina smiled at you. She walked up to you and you started taking steps back until you hit the wall. Her arms trapped you against it and you felt her breath hit your neck.

"Let me give you a piece of advice Y/N. Give up or you might regret what you find."

"What are you-"

In a swift motion Mina kissed your lips briefly. They were soft and moist but as quickly as they came they left.

"If you insist on pursuing what you're doing even after my warning then get used to listening and obeying. She doesn't like the defiant type."

"She? Mina what are you-"

"Sorry Y/N but I'm on the clock again. Consider my kiss a "good luck" charm."

Mina left the break room and went back to her office and you were still against the wall in shock from the events that had just transpired.

"Y/N did you just see a ghost or what?"

"Huh?! Karina when did you get in here?"

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn't realize Karina walked in the break room.

"You didn't notice me? Now I'm really wondering what's been on your mind."

"What do you know about Mina?"

"Oh I see what's happening here."

"You do?"

"You have a crush on Mina and you blew it just now."

"No you have it all wrong!"

"That's why Mina left looking like that. She was probably pissed off at your lackluster attempt of a pickup line. Don't worry Y/N since I'm such a good co-worker I'll teach you what to do so you can get a date with her."

"Would you look at the time I should actually get going."

"Nuh uh Y/N your staying with me."

Karina proceeded to grab your shoulders and kept you occupied for the rest of your break.

-

Day 0

You were at your house getting ready for the night with Momo. You dressed in what you thought was a nice mix casual and somewhat professional.

Heading out to the bar you were hoping that Momo would open up about what's been troubling her in a more casual setting. If anything else her getting drunk should get her to be more honest.

Finally you arrived and called Momo "Hey I'm here where are you?"

"I'll be there in a bit, just hang on tight for me Y/N."

You let out a sigh and decided to go ahead and go inside. Picking a table in the corner you waited for her to arrive and you didn't have to wait long.

Momo finally arrived but you were a bit surprised by her choice of clothing. From the hat, to the jeans, the jacket, and the tie that covered her cleavage it was all very expressive of her body. Something that you never thought you would catch your boss in.

"Ah there you are Y/N."

She sat down next to you and you had to use every ounce of will power to avoid looking at her chest.

"Y/N I really hoped you would have changed your mind by now but you haven't."

"Mhm yeah sorry but my decision is final."

You noticed something in her eyes once you said that. Almost as if what you said triggered something in her.

"Well besides that let's celebrate you, tonight goes to a better future for you Y/N!"

"Let's go ahead and order our drinks."

-

She has a better alcohol tolerance than you thought. Every time you tried to change the conversation she changed it right back to whatever you were talking about before.

You knew she was still sober enough and you felt like you couldn't drink anymore before you started to get seriously drunk and forget why you invited her out to begin with.

"Are you done Y/N? Do you want to call it a night?"

"No I'm not done yet. I'll get myself another drink."

"I'm not making this night go to waste!"

As you sipped down another glass you started feeling dizzy. But when you looked at Momo you realized she was also starting to feel side effects from the alcohol.

"Hey anyways Momo why don't you want me to leave so badly?" You had to ask now or else you would risk letting yourself get wasted.

"Because I said so!"

"Oh so she's that type of drunk." you thought to yourself.

"I bet I can drink more than you Momo."

"No you cannot Y/N and I'll prove it!"

She grabbed another glass and drank it completely in a few seconds. To see just how drunk she was you wondered if you could hand her one of your glasses and get her to drink it.

Without hesitation she grabbed the glass you handed her and downed it.

"Give me more Y/N I'll drink it!"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"No now give me more!"

Momo was starting make a scene so you decided to get her to out of their. "Yah where do you think you're taking me I wasn't done!"

Ignoring her yelling you paid the bill and dragged her out of the building despite her protest.

"Where do you live Momo I'm taking you home."

"I'm not telling! Bring me back to the bar I wasn't finished."

You sighed and figured you'd have to bring her back to your place instead.

The usual small walk to your home felt more like half an hour. "Y/N let me go!" Momo repeated all the way back to your home.

Finally you arrived back home while holding her arm. "Can you calm down?!"

"Nooooo Y/NNN I'm not calming dowwnn!"

"Can ask you something Momo?"

"Not until you get me my drink!"

You sighed and got the bottle of alcohol you had. Getting it out and pouring her a shot and handing it to her. "Now can I ask questions?"

She took a sip before answering you "Fine Y/N-ie just cause you gave me this."

"Cause I looovve you Y/N. Do you know how annoying it is to try to convince your favorite employee that you have a crush on to stay only for them to end up leaving?!"

"You have a crush on me?"

"Of course Y/N but I don't think I'll ever tell you though."

You were shocked. Your boss was in love with you this whole time? "Momo I don't know what to say."

Out of the blue Momo got up and made her way to you. "You know how fucking annoying it is to go and do so much and not have it pay off Y/N?"

"Momo I-"

Before you were able to finish talking she used her finger to squeeze your cheeks. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak Y/N. I don't like the defiant type."

As she spoke those words a memory came back to your mind.

"If you insist on pursuing what you're doing even after my warning then get used to listening and obeying. She doesn't like the defiant type."

Quickly you shut your mouth not daring to speak.

Momo saw what you did and chuckled.

"Did Mina tell you that you should obey me?"

"H-how did you know?"

"How about I show you instead of telling you?"

She quickly shoved you to the floor before you could process her words. A loud "thud" sound echoed through your house and you started to feel pain.

"Ouch!"

Momo took off her top and tie but left her jacket on. Her breasts were now fully exposed for you to see.

"I would let you play with these but since you're no longer my employee then I guess I can't let you." She said this with a grin on her face. Playing with herself and the only thing she let you do was watch.

Momo could see your eagerness to touch her in your eyes. "P-please?"

"Is my baby that desperate to touch a girl's breast? But I thought you said your decision was final or did you change your mind?"

"I changed my mind! Please Momo I can't take the teasing."

"Your erection is growing baby. Want help with that."

"Yes!"

"Hm no. Well at least not on your terms."

Momo was having a power trip. Flaunting her big breasts in front of you and not letting you get the relief you wanted. She laid on you, her breast were being pressed up against you and she started kissing your neck.

"Tomorrow let everyone know who owns you."

"But I have to go shopping tomorrow I don't want everyone to know-"

She grabbed your throat and squeezed it making you unable to breathe. "Disobey me one more time without permission and I'll make you fucking regret it Y/N. Do you understand?"

Tears fell down your eyes and you felt yourself losing consciousness. "Yes I understand please let me breathe!"

"Good now, regarding your statement, I don't care. Let everyone in public know what happened today."

She continued marking you and she didn't stop until your whole face was covered with hickeys.

"Any statements you want to get out before I continue Y/N?"

A little confused on why she was suddenly allowing you to ask a question you asked the first question you could think of "Why are you still wearing the hat and jacket?".

"I like this hat. And the jacket excites me. It makes me feel like we're in my office and I'm fucking you. Obviously I wouldn't dare to actually do it there but it adds to the role-play I guess. By the way want anything else? Maybe a drink or a snack?"

"N-no I'm fine Momo."

Although she was clearly in control over you she still took the time to make sure you weren't in total misery. She still cared about your well-being and a part of you felt slightly relieved that even in an intoxicated state she would still consider your feelings.

Momo took off her pants revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "Finger me." Not one to question her authority you put 2 fingers in and went at a moderate pace so not to discomfort her.

"Mhm so obedient Y/N but slow down the pace a little bit it feels uncomfortable."

You listened to her and slowed your thrust into her pussy. "Yeah just like that Y/N keep that pace for me."

She pulled off your pants and underwear then proceeded to slowly move her hand along your hardening cock.

Her fingers were so soft yet they ignited something in you. Your sensitive cock was hardening with the feeling of her precious hands running along your cock.

"Speed up your pace and I'll pump your cock faster."

Wanting to release your cum you thrusted your fingers into her wet pussy. Keeping her word she pumped your cock faster as your speed increased.

Momo started playing with her nipples and moans came out of her. "Ugh ~ Ah" Twisting and turning her body from the feelings she was getting you were also getting harder from the feeling of her weight shifting on you. "I can't believe I am fingering my boss while watching her play with herself on top of me!"

"I'm cumming!" Your boss released her cum all over you. Her fluids stained the shirt and fingers and shortly after your semen ejaculated from your cock.

Momo moved, now she was sitting on your face "Lick my pussy while I'm still sensitive!"

You inserted your tongue into her pussy and you licked all around her insides. You got a little daring and tried to grab her breasts.

Out of nowhere she grabbed your wrists all of a sudden.

"You piece of shit. Did I allow you to touch me?"

Fear filled your body and you were unable to move. The room was silent for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds.

"Speak to me you fucking bitch!"

"No you didn't!" Your voice was shaky. Momo could hear the fear that was in your voice.

"Left or right?"

"Right?"

Momo let go of your right wrist and twisted your left wrist so hard until it broke.

"Ow fuck!"

"Maybe this will make you learn your lesson. Now lick my pussy."

Not wanting to lose your other wrist you licked her pussy like your life depended on it. Tears fell down your face from the pain you felt.

Moans fell out of Momo's mouth not caring about whatever pain you could be in. After a few minutes her juices flowed out of her pussy and went in your mouth.

The stream lasted so long you were choking on her cum. Eventually you were able to cough up her cum and avoided death by Momo's cum.

"You taste amazing boss." you said while panting.

She got off your face and kissed you. Taking in her own fluids with her tongue, you were able to taste the sweat dripping off of Momo's face.

Momo got off you and laid on the floor before she went to sleep.

Being too tired you slept on the floor with Momo by your side.

-

You were woken up by a loud scream.

"Y/N what happened?!"

Being too tired to respond you just stayed silent.

Momo started to piece together what happened as she saw her breasts and your cock out along with her mouth tasting like alcohol.

"Oh Y/N I'm so sorry I don't know what came over me!"

"Can you drive me to a hospital? My wrist still hurts after you broke it."

"I broke your wrist?!"

-

You and Momo arrived back at work shortly after your hospital visit. She insisted you don't work due to your broken wrist and with your face being covered in hickeys but you felt guilty for making her drink with you.

As you were walking to your office you heard someone call your name. "Long time no see Y/N."

Turning around you saw Mina

"Momo convince you to stay?"

She ignored the hickeyes all over your face but you weren't about to bring them up.

"Y-yeah."

"Was part of convincing you breaking your wrist?"

"You could say that."

Mina strutted towards you going next to your ear "It's not fair Momo got her turn with you. She won't mind if I share you with her so come to my office during your break Y/N."

Giving you a peck on your cheek before she walked away. She left you standing in the hallway.

"Wait how does she know so much about Momo?"

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This was actually supposed to be a shorter smut (2,000-ish words) but I got carried away with the story which caused me to delay it.

Not sure if anyone caught it so I'll say it. In the beginning Y/N said "I'm never sleeping on the floor again" but ended up sleeping on the floor again. I just thought it was funny.

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Unfortunately this wasn't a 20 chapter series. (I really wanted it to, but there's no way I would fit smut in every chapter.)

[carlislefiles]

finals week | fushiguro megumi, geto suguru, gojo satoru, ino takuma, inumaki toge, kamo choso, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen, yuuji itadori ╰►college is hell, and finals week is the seventh circle. as much as you love your boyfriend, you can have absolutely no distractions, not when the biggest tests of your life loom over you like a raincloud full of dread and fear of failure. they don’t take to being ignored so well, and they take to you ignoring yourself even worse. 6.9k words far left picture (teacup) by @nevroicastar on pinterest

a/n: can you tell that literally all I want in life is someone to be nice to me... :D anyways, this is pretty much pure fluff, reader is not taking care of herself, mentions of poor eating habits, lots of talk of academic validation, etc. so read at your own risk. as I got to the end of this, I realized that a lot of these are quite similar, so sorry about that, but when I have an idea I just kind of have to get it out, so here she is. kind of modern college au, but still within the sorcery realm???? I don’t know don’t ask. warnings: incredibly cheesy, me rambling about topics I do not understand at all (hello? theoretical geometry? didn't even know theoretical math existed?), and pure, unadultered comfort. enjoy <3

megumi knows what it’s like to seek academic validation like it’s oxygen. he wears his indifference like a badge—hood up, sleeves pushed to the elbows, bag slung low—but make no mistake: anything less than an a has him spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis. he may look composed, but internally he’s questioning his intelligence, his self-worth, the educational system, and the meaning of life in general.

so when you break down over a b- on a practice anatomy exam, he understands. doesn’t mean it doesn’t rip him apart. you never cry. never. but that night, your tears soaked into the fabric of his sweatshirt as you buried your face in his chest and whispered, “if this was the easier version, I'm dead. I'm so dead.” it wasn’t even going in the gradebook. didn’t matter. that grade haunted you.

the next morning, he wakes up alone. you beat him out of bed. that’s unheard of. he sends a text. then another.

“you at the library?” “eat something.”

no reply. eventually you respond, just not with anything he wants to hear.

“I'm gonna be really busy. maybe we should take a break until finals are over. you should hang out with yuuji.”

he scowls at the screen. as if yuuji hasn’t third-wheeled 70% of your dates. but megumi lets it go—for now. he assumes you’re just holed up in the library. he’s done the same thing. but it gets worse. you stop sleeping in his dorm, stop answering messages, stop functioning like a human being. you become a finals-week cryptid, subsisting on caffeine and sheer willpower. megumi would yell, if he didn���t know better. but he does know better. so he gets quiet. observant. subtle. he brings you real food. coaxes you into drinking water. slides his hoodie onto your shoulders when you’re shivering under the library ac. brushes your hair back with fingers that shake slightly when he realizes how tired you look. pulls the ramen cup away mid-bite and replaces it with something that didn’t come from a vending machine.

and when you cry over flashcards and whisper, “I don’t even know what a nephron does anymore,” he just starts quizzing you, reading aloud terms he can’t even pronounce correctly. he doesn’t know how you’re surviving this course. anatomy and physiology? it sounds like science hell. he hates it for you. but you don’t stop. not until finals week swallows you whole, trembling under the weight of your own expectations.

that’s when he draws the line.

your head is buried in your laptop at some godforsaken hour, eyes bloodshot and fingers twitching when—slam. he shuts your computer. “what—megumi! I was—”

toothbrush. sweatpants. his sweatshirt. he’s already dragging you to the bed, ignoring every protest as you weakly try to wiggle free. “I have to—”

“no, you don’t,” he says firmly. “you’re not studying. you’re sleeping.”

he scratches your scalp. presses featherlight kisses to the slope of your neck. hums something under his breath, steady and warm. eventually, your body gives out. you melt. and sleep like a corpse blessed by the gods. he watches you for a long while before finally letting himself rest beside you.

the next day, he waits outside the medicine building. the test is over. your scores won’t be posted for a few days. doesn’t matter. he just needs to see you. you step out, bleary-eyed and barely functioning, and he immediately pulls you into his arms. “you're never doing that to yourself again,” he mumbles into your hair.

you don’t even argue. you just nod and melt into him. and a few days later, the score is posted. you stare at your screen, stunned. an a. a solid, shining, hard-won a. and megumi just smirks like he knew it all along.

suguru graduated last spring. walked across the stage in slacks you'd picked out for him and a grin made of gold and ease. he didn’t look back. college wasn’t hard for him—it never had been. books opened for him like petals, and concepts bowed to his comprehension. it was never about the stress or the stakes. it was about the hours you'd spend curled beside him in the library, mumbling about amino acids or molecular orbitals while he stared at you like you were the sun.

back then, he'd ask you questions from flashcards, only to discard them halfway through and ask about your favorite color, your middle name, your childhood dog. he loved the way your face lit up when your brain found the answer to something hard, but he loved it even more when it lit up because of him. he wasn’t ashamed of that. he’s never been ashamed of how deeply he loves you.

but now…now, things are different. you're wrapped up in organic chemistry like it’s a vice grip. barely breathing, barely blinking. you’ve got every note and molecule memorized, and still you tell him, "it’s not enough." over and over, like a prayer, or a curse. you’ve been walking around like a ghost, and suguru sees it for what it is—devotion, desperation, and destruction all rolled into one. you say it’s just a test, but he knows it’s your everything.

and the worst part? he gets it. he gets what it’s like to build your identity on success. he just wishes you didn’t have to. because when you go missing for a whole day, when you don’t text him back or come home or answer his calls, he panics. he’s not dramatic—not usually—but you’re his, and suguru takes care of his things. so he finds you. of course he does.

you're in the back corner of the chem building, surrounded by papers and empty energy drink cans and what might be tears, though you’d never admit it. you look up when he walks in, and there’s a flash of guilt that crosses your face like lightning. it stings. “I'm so sorry, suguru,” you whisper. “but this is really, really important. I need you to leave me alone until I'm finished with this. I'm too tired and too stressed to worry about anything other than this test.”

that breaks something in him. because you’ve never made him feel like a burden. never once treated his presence like an interruption. and maybe he should’ve fought harder. maybe he should’ve scooped you up, carried you out of there like he wanted to, tucked you beneath his covers and kissed your forehead until the tension bled out of you.

but he’s selfish only sometimes, and never when it comes to your dreams.

so he lets you go. the test is four hours long. you emerge hollow-eyed, trembling, and murmuring something about how you probably failed. you don’t even cry. just breathe in, breathe out, and fall into bed without so much as a kiss. and when the grade is posted the next morning, a clean, perfect a, you don’t celebrate. don’t smile. don’t even tell him. he’s the one who finds out first. you just so relieved that it's finally over, half of you doesn't even care how you did.

he pulls you into his lap before you can protest and presses a hand to your chest like he’s checking if your heart still beats. it does, but he wants more than that. he wants you back. all of you.

so he makes suggestions. strong ones. "take a semester off," he murmurs against your temple. "or transfer. or move in with me. or all three. I'll take care of you. you don’t have to do this to yourself. you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. not when I already know how brilliant you are." you nod like you’re not hearing him, but he’s patient. he’ll wait. he’ll wait until you believe it too.

he jokes—often, obnoxiously—that he’s always known you were too good for him. that you were the prodigy and he was the pretty face. that your acceptance into medical school was the universe playing fair, because how else could the world possibly balance your brain and his everything else? but even with all that noise, gojo satoru is terrified of the way this test has eaten you alive. 

the usmle. the reaper in standardized exam form. every time he sees you, you’re either furiously annotating a textbook or passed out cold in someone’s office chair with flashcards stuck to your cheek. 

he tries everything at first. plays the doting, lovable nuisance role to perfection—stealing your laptop charger, faking existential crises that can only be soothed by forehead kisses, crawling into your lap and pretending to cry (“I need affection, babe, it’s for my health, come onnn—”). and you smile. you do. but you don’t stop. you never stop. and eventually even he has to let you go into that studying-induced blackout tunnel, even if it kills him not to be able to pull you out of it.

still, he never leaves. when your weekly date nights disappear, he sends you dumb memes and voice notes that say things like “this is what it sounds like when I cry without you here.” when you sleep in the library, he sneaks snacks into your backpack and slips hand warmers into your hoodie pockets. he’s not even sure you notice. but he does it anyway. because loving you isn’t something he tries to do. it’s something that just is. like gravity. 

the morning of the test, you’re shaking. eyes glassy, coffee untouched. it’s still dark out, and he hates how exhausted you look. you sit in the passenger seat of his car like you’ve been awake for a thousand years. he doesn’t try to make a joke. just…reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“you’re not scared I'll be disappointed in you, right?” you shake your head, barely. but the thing is, he knows you. knows how your brain works. how you work. he can’t stop your nerves—he wouldn’t dream of trying. but he can hold them with you. sit there in the thick of it, still and steady and here. because that’s what you need. and when you finally leave to go take the test, gojo satoru doesn’t move. just waits. hours tick by. he plays stupid games on his phone. he thinks about the first time he saw you cry—finals week, sophomore year, when you were convinced you’d bombed a lab report—and how this feels exactly like that, only ten times worse. but then…you come back. and the world exhales.

you’re pale. wrecked. like you’ve just survived a war. you climb into the passenger seat like someone dropped you from space, and satoru immediately swaddles you in the blanket he brought from your dorm. 

“I brought gummy bears, sliced veggies, and a literal gallon of water,” he says. “and I have an entire playlist dedicated to ‘songs that say I'm so proud of you I could cry.’” you laugh. just a little. but he hears it. “think you passed?” he asks.

“I think I survived.”

“close enough.” he drives you home like you’re royalty. like the day’s been his test too, and this—getting you back—is his only passing grade.

later, when you’re fed and clean and warm in bed, buried in layers of blankets and wearing his t-shirt, he lays beside you and grins like a fool. 

“so,” he says, “how’s it going, dr. gojo?”

you raise a brow. “excuse me?”

“I just figured, if you’re gonna be a doctor, we should share the last name. has a nice ring to it. we’ll both be hot and dangerous. power couple energy.”

“oh, I'm taking your last name?”

“obviously. babe, have you met me?”

you roll your eyes—but there’s color back in your cheeks now. a glow. that fire he fell in love with. and he grins, victorious.

because you’re back. you’re his again. and no matter what happens next—residency, stress, long nights and endless hours—satoru’s ready. he’ll carry the whole weight of the world if it means you never have to go through that kind of thing alone. 

takuma is a man of simple truths: ramen tastes better after midnight, bleach is not the same thing as laundry detergent, and you—god, you—are the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

you're a prodigy. he says that like it’s a title, not just a fact. you graduated high school at fifteen, cruised through undergrad before most of your friends even started, and now you’re gunning for a ph.d. because what else would someone like you do? you’re brilliant, born for academia. he fell for you like gravity, no question, no hesitation.

and he’s not dumb—not really—but school was never his thing. he coasted through high school on vibes and charm, then lucked into an internship with some big-deal suit named nanami. it was supposed to be temporary, but ino had that golden retriever work ethic, the kind where people give you more responsibility just because you say “sure thing!” with enough enthusiasm. it works for him. it always has.

but when it comes to you, that easygoing confidence starts to fray. because you're drowning. and he doesn’t know how to save you. your advisor says jump, and you ask how high in four languages. volunteer work, tutoring, research, a part-time job, and now the gre is looming like a thundercloud over your future. you study until your voice is hoarse from reciting terms, until your notes are smudged with highlighter ink and tears.

you rope ino into helping, and of course he says yes. he’s happy to. he makes flashcards with cartoon doodles on the back, quizzes you on vocab while you’re brushing your teeth, lets you explain abstract statistical theory to him until you both fall asleep on the couch. you look exhausted, but you smile when he calls you professor, and that’s enough. until it isn’t. until the smiles fade. until he’s helping you study alone. until you stop asking. until he’s waiting at home for a version of you who never seems to arrive.

he wants to fix it, to fix you, but he doesn’t know how to fight a battle that’s inside your own head. so he does what he can. brings you snacks at work, texts you affirmations, makes dinner even though he’s bad at it, and watches your exhaustion turn to something scarily mechanical. you stop complaining. you stop talking. you stop looking him in the eye when you leave in the morning.

then test day comes. and he's so proud. not of this behavior, of course, but of you, despite it all. he makes you breakfast, walks you to the testing center even though it's freezing, kisses your forehead and tells you you're already the smartest person in the building. when you walk away, his chest hurts with how badly he wants this to go well. it does. kind of.

you take the gre and survive it—but there’s no relief. no celebration. no breath of freedom after months of suffocating. you just...keep going. more work shifts. more hours. more silence. and ino, patient as he is, can only hold back his worry for so long.

it’s late when he says it. you’re curled into him, back to his chest, your favorite blanket tucked around both of you. he’s got one arm around your waist, the other buried in your hair, his cheek pressed to the back of your neck. “hey,” he murmurs, soft and real. “you ever think about slowing down?” silence. so long, he thinks maybe you fell asleep. 

but then—“I'm just...so tired of trying to—to….” you whisper. “I just want to be good enough.” his heart cracks open.

“sweetheart,” he breathes, and holds you tighter, “you’re already more than good enough. you’re incredible. I picked you, remember? and I'm the smartest guy I know.” that gets a breath of a laugh. barely, mostly because you know that there was never choice, never other options. takuma was gone for you the minute he met you. if anything, you picked him and he will never be able to fully articulate his gratitude.

“I mean it,” he says, fingers stroking your hip. “you don’t need to break yourself to prove anything to anyone. not to them, and definitely not to me.” that night, something shifts. he starts small. no, you can’t pick up that extra shift. no, you won’t be checking your email at midnight. yes, he is bringing you lunch and walking you home, and no, he doesn’t care if you think it’s “too much.” and slowly, the girl who once thought success meant saying yes to everything starts learning how to say no.

ino’s proud of you. he always has been. but now? now he’s proud for you. because you’re still brilliant, still ambitious—but you’re happy, too. and that's the version of you he always wanted to love.

your love is loud.

not the annoying kind of loud—though inumaki’s friends might argue that point—but the good kind. the kind that fills every quiet space. that buzzes with laughter and slams cabinet doors and yells from the shower, “do you think pluto misses being a planet?” while he's brushing his teeth. you are his voice. and you never mind being it.

you speak when professors ask dumb, intrusive questions about his muteness. you say no when he can’t afford to risk saying it himself. you make it known—loud and clear, unmistakable—that you love him. that he is enough. that he is yours.

and he doesn’t need a thousand words to love you back. he just looks at you like you hung the stars yourself. he kisses you like a prayer. he taps his fingers three times against your wrist—i love you in the language only you and he share. it’s perfect. you’re perfect. until the exams start looming.

at first, it’s small. a missed meme here, a shorter phone call there. you’re still talking, still laughing, but it’s... less. and then it gets quieter. you stop yelling from the bathroom. you stop planning your little dates. you stop talking altogether on some days—just kiss his cheek, tired-eyed, and disappear into your books.

it’s horrifying. like watching the sun flicker out.

he doesn’t doubt your love. you’d never let him. you’d carved it into the walls of his world with every grin, every “you’re mine, forever, deal with it,” every hand squeezed under the table during group dates. but he misses you. the you who would sing off-key in the car. the you who once narrated his entire grocery list in the voice of an australian accent. so he fights back. quietly. carefully. tactically.

he starts leaving you little notes:

"you’re the smartest person I know."

"your brain is hot. that’s unfair"

"I love you more than rice balls."

(and in tiny scribbles) "don’t tell salmon."

they’re everywhere. in your shoes. on your toothpaste. tucked between pages of your study guides like secret spells.

he learns how to cook, too—little meals, nothing fancy, but made with so much love it might as well be michelin-starred. he pouts dramatically when you hesitate to eat, eyes big, mouth drawn down, holding the plate like a peace offering. and you fold, always. because how can you not? not when he made it for you.

and then the test comes. that stupid fucking test that stole you from him. you ace it. of course you do. you walk out of the testing center a little dazed, a little pale, and into his arms, and he scoops you up like the national treasure you are. doesn’t say a word. just holds you. then he takes you home.

he feeds you. literally spoon-feeds you soup he made himself. he showers you, kissing waterdrops off your cheeks, washing your hair with reverence like you’re something holy. he lays you down in bed and kisses your forehead, your knuckles, your stomach, your spine. worships you without ever saying a word. and bit by bit, your spark returns. you tease him again. you dance while brushing your teeth. but here’s the thing: now he watches for the signs. watches closely. a little too closely, maybe—but he’s not letting that darkness steal you again.

so when he sees you looking so tired again? he tugs your sleeve and hands you a note: no fading. I need your noise. and you read it, smile, and say, “you’ll never get rid of me that easy.” thank god.

choso is not a school guy. never has been, never will be. he goes because he has to, because society demands it and his scholarship requires it. but it’s never going to be his thing. he floats through most of his classes like a ghost—half-there, earbuds in, hoodie pulled over his head. a b+ on a paper is a win in his book, even if the professor writes "needs revision" all over it. who cares. life’s short. he’d rather be sleeping.

you, on the other hand, care. you care so much. about everything. you’re his high-strung, teeth-gritting, color-coded, always-scheduling, never-late girlfriend. and god, does he adore it.

he loves how strict you are. loves how you wake up at 6:00am every day without fail. loves the way you brush your teeth for exactly two minutes, three times a day. loves that you have a salad every tuesday and the exact same pasta order every thursday. you’re sharp edges and ticking clocks and perfect routines, and he—chaos incarnate—thrives under your rule. you keep him functioning. you’re the reason he knows when to register for classes, the reason he turns in assignments on time, the reason he eats meals that didn’t come from a vending machine.

you're the reason he's even passing. but that stupid, stupid theoretical geometry class…it drives you nuts. not slowly. not like a spiral, like most things. no—this class is like a wrecking ball to your entire system. you hate it. you say it constantly. “it’s not even real math,” you groan. “it’s just concepts. I can’t work with concepts. I need problems. I need solutions.”

at first, choso thinks it’s kinda cute. your little rants. the way you scowl at the textbook like it personally offended you. he tries to encourage you with little pats on the back, forehead kisses, sitting on the floor next to your desk with his laptop so you’ll stay focused while he scrolls through reddit and tells you about cursed fan theories. but then, the changes start.

you stop brushing your teeth three times a day. you forget to make lunch on tuesdays. your planner—your beautiful little planner that he once saw you cry over when you accidentally spilled coffee on it—starts collecting dust. you cancel date night. you forget date night existed. you study through dinner, through sleep, through entire days, and suddenly, choso’s the one asking you when your assignments are due. you are unraveling. and choso is helpless.

he tries to support you. follows you to study sessions like a sleepy, loyal puppy, clutching your coffee order and not understanding a single damn word of what you’re talking about. he doesn't get theoretical math. he barely gets regular math. but he tries. he watches youtube videos meant for third graders. he makes flashcards—incorrect ones, half the time—but he hands them to you with such innocent hope in his eyes that you pretend they’re helpful just to kiss him on the cheek.

he never once asks you to stop. never once says, “you’re scaring me,” or “you’re making yourself sick.” but he wants to. so badly. you’re not sleeping. you’re thinner. you smell like stress and highlighters. you apologize all the time, say you miss him, say you’ll fix it soon. but nothing fixes.

so he adapts. he picks up your slack. makes you breakfast, even if it’s just a granola bar and a post-it that says "please eat. you’re gonna ace it. also I miss you :/." does your laundry and folds it wrong and puts your shirts in the wrong drawer but he tries. he doesn’t even complain when you forget to text him back for a day and a half. he just sends a message like, “love you. proud of you. text me when you remember I exist!!” it sounds so needy and passive aggressive, but it’s not, it’s just choso, who so genuinely wants you to remember that you’re not alone. 

it breaks his heart when you reply, “I always remember. I just hate myself for not being better.” he refuses to let you carry that weight.

so when you cry the night before the exam, whispering, “what if I fail? what if I'm just not smart enough?” he kisses your temples and says, “then we drop out and open a donut shop. we’ll sell those cinnamon ones you like. you’ll do the math. I'll man the fryer.” you pass with flying colors. because of course you do. you’re brilliant and capable and too hard on yourself.

and the moment you do, choso sits you down and says, as gently and lovingly as a man with no boundaries or math comprehension can, “never again.” he means it. no more sacrificing your joy for a grade. no more skipping meals for numbers. no more breaking the routines that make you feel safe, secure, you. and you agree. you apologize again, of course you do, but he cuts it off with a kiss. he doesn’t want apologies. he wants his girl back.

you vow to never take another theoretical math class again—would rather switch majors, hell, switch schools. and choso vows to guard your schedule, your wellbeing, your sanity with the same devotion you once used to guard his grades.

because sure, he doesn’t care much about school. but he cares about you. and you? you’re the only constant he never wants to theorize. you’re the equation he solved the moment he met you. and he’s never letting you fall out of balance again.

at first, you wouldn’t let him help. you couldn’t. not because you didn’t need it—you did. badly. but need was dangerous. need led to reliance, and reliance led to disappointment, and you’ve never known anything but disappointment in the end. so you met every one of nanami’s gentle offerings with a hiss, a cold shoulder, a stiff spine and a scoff. you didn’t want kindness. you didn’t trust it. and yet—he stayed.

with his quiet voice and his tired eyes and his soft cashmere sweaters. with his thoughtful meals and perfectly timed cups of tea. with his ability to sit in silence and not make it feel like you were doing something wrong. nanami showed up for you over and over again, until you stopped flinching at the idea of someone showing up at all.

he’s older. settled. solid in a way that feels unreal to you. while you burn the candle at both ends and run yourself into the ground over essays and projects and unrelenting deadlines, nanami clocks out at 5:00, makes dinner at 6:00, and asks you if you’d like to come over for dessert like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

at first, you declined. then you said maybe. and then one night, you cried on his kitchen floor over a c in a class you hated, and he held you like it didn’t ruin his shirt or his night or his impression of you because, in all honesty, it only ruined his shirt; nothing more.

you started staying over. not all the time. not enough to leave your toothbrush next to his. not enough to cancel the lease on your overpriced apartment you barely use. you’re still scared. still stubborn. but god, does he make it hard to stay guarded. nanami treats you like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever loved. not fragile—just precious. important. he has rules, quiet ones, and most of them are about you. you don’t skip meals. you don’t stay up past 1:00am. you don’t berate yourself over an 89.7 instead of a 90.

sometimes you listen. sometimes you argue. sometimes he finds you passed out on your laptop at 3:00am, and you feel his disappointment like a knife, but he never scolds you. never raises his voice. he just picks you up, tucks you in, presses a kiss to your temple and says something like, “you don’t have to do this alone.” and you don’t. that’s the worst part. you don’t. you have him. but sometimes your brain forgets that. especially this semester. this hellish, soul-draining, motivation-murdering semester that chewed you up and spit you back out into another one before you even caught your breath. nanami watches it happen in real time. watches you stop coming over. stop answering calls. stop eating the banana bread he baked with you in mind.

you’re not resting. you’re not sleeping. you’re not you. it scares him. not that he’d ever say it aloud. but it kills something in him every time you say, “I'm fine,” and he knows you’re lying. it’s like you’ve forgotten everything he taught you. so, he tries again. he doesn’t lecture. he never begs. but he texts. “are you eating today?” “my place is quiet. come nap.” “I miss you. you don’t have to talk. just be here.”

and finally, finally, finals end. and he takes you. scoops your burnt-out, hollow-eyed body from the wreckage and makes it his personal mission to bring you back to life. you sleep for almost a full day the first night at his place. when you wake up, he’s sitting in the armchair across from the couch, reading, glasses low on his nose. he just says, “welcome back,” and doesn’t comment on the dried tears on your cheeks.

every day of break, he softens you. with warm breakfasts and long baths and small, safe silences. with his hand on the small of your back and the quiet strength in his presence that says I've got you. eventually, it happens. the breakdown you’ve been avoiding for weeks. it’s late. you’re curled into his side, finally eating real food again, finally existing again, and you whisper, "I'm sorry. I shut you out. I didn’t mean to. I just...I don’t know how not to. I thought I was better, I—"

he doesn’t let you finish. just pulls you close and says, “you are better. you’re just tired. and I'm here.” you cry. you hate that you cry. but he doesn’t. he’s kissing your forehead, brushing your hair behind your ear, murmuring, “you’ve never hurt me. I only hurt when you’re hurting.” and that’s the moment you remember why you let him in at all. because he’s steady. because he’s not scared of your sharp edges. because where others left, nanami stayed. and when he suggests you take fewer credits next semester, your gut reaction is guilt, shame, refusal.

but he just raises an eyebrow and says, “you’ll still graduate in time. and even if you don't—I'm not going anywhere.” you believe him. for once in your life, you believe someone. so you drop the extra class. you leave a toothbrush at his place. you take a deep breath for the first time in months. and nanami—your warm, unwavering constant—watches you come back to yourself, bit by bit, every day. and he doesn’t say it out loud, but he thinks it every time he looks at you: no one can love you like I do. and that is the most beautiful thing I've ever had the privilege of. 

sukuna doesn’t do the boyfriend thing. not really. he’s hot, he’s untouchable, he’s slept with half the campus and ghosted the other half. he’s not the kind of guy who remembers anniversaries or asks how your day went or makes soup when you’re sick. or at least—he wasn’t. until you. you, who never asked him to be anything other than what he already was. you, who looked him in the eye, rough edges and all, and said “I don’t need to fix you.” you meant it. you still mean it. but he changed anyway. because disappointing you? hurting you? even by accident? that’s the one thing he can’t stomach. not now. not when he’s ruined so many things and somehow still got lucky enough to have you.

so when you start falling apart, he notices. it starts with a couple of weirdly average grades—an 85% on a midterm you were supposed to crush, a 7/10 on a quiz you studied hours for. you brush it off, but he sees the way it eats at you, worms its way into your confidence. you start staying up late, later, all night sometimes. your routine crumbles. you’re skipping meals. walking home alone in the dark. crawling into his bed after midnight and thinking he doesn’t notice. he notices.

and at first? yeah, he thinks it’s cute. in a stupid, masochistic way. you care so much. for what? a grade? a professor’s approval? you're a writer—an incredible one. he’s read your stories, soaked in your words, memorized whole passages of shit you’ve barely shared with anyone else. you don’t need a degree to prove you’re brilliant. you already are. but then it stops being cute. then it starts hurting. because now you’re not just tired. you’re hollow. you’re not just busy. you’re gone. and he can’t fucking stand that.

so he inserts himself. shamelessly. aggressively. shows up to the library with your favorite takeout. forces you to eat. pulls you out of your chair and into his lap like it’s his god-given right. covers your mouth with his hand when you protest, glaring at you through crimson eyes as he mutters, “you’re done for the night.”

and when you whine, “I'm not even close to being finished, kuna,” he just kisses the top of your head and doesn’t give a shit. “flunk out,” he says into your hair. “drop out. who cares? I'll handle everything.” he means it. every single word. if you never worked again, if you never lifted a finger again, he wouldn’t mind. in fact, he might prefer it. because sukuna has never believed in much—not school, not rules, not people—but he believes in you. always has. so he tightens his grip around your schedule. limits your study hours. makes you sleep. crushes you against his chest each night so you can’t wiggle away. when your friends text, “come study with us!” he replies for you: “she’s busy. fuck off.”

and it helps. a little. he keeps you from slipping too far. but even with his arms around you, you're still unraveling, whispering, “I don’t think I can do this,” like it’s some shameful confession. then the test comes. and you pass. not just pass—you crush it. top of the curve. feedback glowing. you’re shaking when you tell him. laughing in disbelief, wide-eyed and breathless, “I don’t know how it happened, it’s a miracle, I don’t—kuna, I thought I was going to fail—”

and sukuna, mr. I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-grades, who’s said a hundred times he doesn’t care if you pass or fail or burn the whole damn school down—he cares.

because that smile? the one on your face now, bright and radiant and real? that smile is what he does this all for. that smile is the closest thing to heaven a man like him will ever get. so he just shrugs and pulls you into his lap again, buries his face in your shoulder. “miracle my ass,” he grumbles. “you’re just a fucking genius.”

yuuji isn’t the best at school, but that doesn’t make him stupid—he’s sharp in all the ways that matter, intuitive, emotionally intelligent, loyal to a fault. still, academics were never where he shone brightest, and he knows that, accepts it with a shrug and a grin and a “hey, at least I'm trying.” and he is trying. not for some future career, not because he cares about grades or accolades, but because he wants to be good at something the way you’re good at everything. because when he looks at you—so graceful under pressure, so sharp and composed and somehow still soft with everyone around you—he wants to measure up. he wants to keep pace, even if he stumbles more than he’d like. even if half the time he’s just hanging on by the skin of his teeth.

you’ve always been kind to him about it. never made him feel slow, or behind, or less. you’re good like that—gracious in ways that disarm people, a born favorite, beloved without even trying. professors pull you aside to thank you for participating in class discussions. classmates email you asking for help. you’ve got this gentle gravity to you, this rare balance of competence and compassion, and it makes people trust you instantly. yuuji most of all.

but this semester, something shifted. you cut back on your work hours after landing an academic scholarship—because of course you did, you're brilliant—and decided, for reasons he still doesn’t entirely understand, to nearly double your course load. “I just wanna graduate a little faster, yu,” you said with that breezy smile, brushing it off like it was nothing, like your daily planner wasn’t already choked with color-coded breakdowns and your tote bag wasn’t already sagging with books and half-empty energy drinks. and at first, he believed you, because you’ve never lied to him before. you’re honest, almost to a fault. but it didn’t take long before that soft shell of composure started to crack.

you started sleeping less, studying more. the calls you used to answer right away now go to voicemail. the “good morning” texts he used to get by 7:30 are coming in hours late, if at all. you haven’t been to his apartment in over a week. and sure, you’re still managing—somehow you’re still getting the work done—but you’re so tired, and it’s not the kind of tired sleep can fix. he can see it in the way your voice shakes when you ask for an extension, even though the professor gives it without question. he hears it in the pause before you say “I'm okay,” like you’re trying to convince yourself. and it kills him. because you’re the strong one. the one who holds everything together. if you’re falling apart, then what hope does he have?

but here’s the thing—yuuji's tired, too. no one really notices, because he doesn’t complain. because he doesn’t let himself slow down. because his instinct, always, is to carry the weight alone if it means someone else gets to breathe a little easier. but he’s burning out right alongside you, pulling back-to-back all-nighters and forgetting to eat, pretending he’s fine because you need him to be. that’s who he is. that’s who he’s always been.

and when finals week finally ends—when the tests are done and the caffeine shakes wear off and the dark circles under both your eyes start to fade—he decides, without hesitation, that it’s over. no arguments. no compromises. you’re taking the summer off. you’re going to gojo’s beach house with megumi and the rest of the crew. you’re going to sleep until noon and eat things that don’t come in plastic wrap and learn what it means to do nothing again. and he is not letting you back into a course load that chews you up and spits you out just so you can cross the stage a semester earlier.

he doesn’t say it angrily. he says it quietly. like a vow. like a promise. because if anyone deserves to rest, it’s you. and if anyone’s going to make sure you actually do it, it’s him.

“you’re not weak for being tired,” he says one night, the two of you curled up on his bed, your body half-draped over his, your limbs heavy like you’re finally allowing yourself to feel just how exhausted you really are. “you work harder than anyone I know. and I know a lot of people who punch curses for a living.”

you huff a tired laugh against his chest, but it sounds more like a sigh. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just…I thought if I could do it all now, if I could push through a little more, I could get to the good part faster. you know? the part where I've made it.”

he runs his hand over your back, gentle, rhythmic. “babe, you already made it. you're already everything. the rest is just paperwork and deadlines and weirdly specific formatting rules.”

you don’t respond for a long moment, and he can feel your breathing shift, feel the guilt brewing behind your silence, the way you stiffen just slightly like maybe you're trying not to cry. so he keeps going, softer now, slower.

“and hey,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up so you’ll look at him, “just because I couldn't fix this doesn’t mean I don’t see how hard it’s been. you don’t have to pretend for me, okay? I know it hurts. I know you’ve been running on empty. you don’t have to carry that alone.”

“but you’ve been tired too,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your own concern. “I haven’t even been there for you—”

“yes, you have,” he says, without letting you finish. “you always are. even when you think you’re not.”

he kisses your forehead then, like he’s sealing in every word. and it isn’t grand. it isn’t dramatic. but it’s real. it’s soft. it’s everything he’s been holding onto and everything he wants to give you now—space to fall apart, and space to rest, and the kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything back but lets you collapse into it anyway.

“you and me, okay?” he says into the silence. “all summer. rest, movies, megumi absolutely tearing gojo to shreds, eating until we feel sick. we deserve that. you deserve that.”

and this time, you believe him. not because you’re magically okay. not because the burnout vanishes. but because yuuji’s holding it with you, both hands open, no expectations, no shame—just love.

[skywalkoverme]

𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞

a/n: Here is the threesome I mentioned yesterday!! I hope you enjoy!! Sorry, Ewan's photo wouldnt load :(

𐙚 Anakin x Fem x Kenobi 𐙚 THREESOME 𐙚 || 18+ MDNI

Summary: You spend the night at your friends dorm.

Warnings/contains: College AU, Anakin + Kenobi are athletes, smut, p's in v, double penetration, sex tapes, multiple creampies, face fucking, slapping, hair pulling, choking, marking, hickies, sex modeling, sexual teasing, proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 4.1k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

Athlete’s Dorm: ‘9:02 PM'

“What do you mean, broken?!” He stood in his dorm hall with his roommate. Soon, the hall was filled with students fanning themselves and chattering.

“I mean, there’s a guy here to fix the AC, Skywalker. Just bear with me, ok?” Anakin folded his arms, and leaned back onto the door frame as more people asked the RA questions. “Alright, everyone! Calm down! There are fans in the lobby! You’re welcome to—” The students began to push past the RA to the elevators. “Whatever.”

“I hate this building.” Anakin groaned, pulled off his shirt and left the door to his dorm open.

‘10:12 PM’

He sat at his computer, glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose, and two energy drinks by his keyboard. The fan on his shelf blew warm air onto his sweaty, shirtless torso. After procrastinating for a week, his essay for his government class was due as well as a handful of chemistry assignments. As he typed, he thought of all the time he wasted crashing in other’s dorms or jerking off after class--- “Ahg!” The young man grumbled and folded his arms. “I’m goin’ to the vending machine, ya want anything?” He asked his roommate, Kenobi.

“Empty calories. No.” Kenobi said with his back to Anakin as he went over his biology notes with a highlighter.

Anakin sucked his teeth and grabbed his wallet before heading to the elevator. I fucking hate this old ass building…stupid fucking government class. Interrupting his thoughts, the elevator took him down to the lobby.

Every area was filled with sweaty and complaining students. Some lay on the floor and others, across furniture and against walls. Anakin was quickly distracted by a group of his teammates who stood together. “What’s so funny?” He placed a gentle hand on one of the guys.

“Girl in your room?”

Kenobi would kill me. He thought. “I’m writing an essay.” He called over his shoulder as he got a water and something sweet from the vending machines.

“That can wait. We’re about to take a walk~” A friend of his raised his eyebrows.

“Tempting. But no.” A few of the guys groaned, some sighed.

“You’re missing out!” One guy called out.

“Oh, yeah?” Anakin continued to walk around the lobby, eventually finding his way to the RA telephone on the desk behind the counter. He walked around the desk and started to dial a number---

“Skywalker! What do you think you’re doing?!” One of the staff asked with a groan, trying to avoid staring at his bare torso. He raised a finger to his lips. The woman gasped and stormed towards the coordinator’s office.

After a few rings, you picked up the landline on your nightstand. “Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful.” Anakin said smoothly after taking a sip of his water.

You turned over your left wrist and smiled at your watch. “It’s late, Mister Skywalker. What is it? Ran out of Red bull?” You speak into the landline as you remove your jewelry for bed.

He chuckled, playing with the phone cord. “An hour ago, yes. But that’s not why I’m callin’, Sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes, a hand on your hip. He was a known sweet talker and did nothing to hide it. You’re sure he could convince you to balance fine China on a tightrope with a simple smirk. “How was your day?” He leaned on the desk of the lobby.

“It was good.” You bit your bottom lip, a lock of hair around your fingers. “Yours?”

“Rather lonely, can you believe that?” He asked softly.

You shook your head before realizing he was simply on the phone. “U- Ahem, no.”

“Do you want to know why, Sweetheart? I didn’t see you in class.” He whispered the last part; your lips spread with need. “Where were you?”

“Doctor’s appointment.”

“And you thought to tell no one?” He asked sweetly, your feet swung under you as you sat at the end of your bed. “You should know, I sent out a whole calvary to find you. I was worried.” That charming sarcasm always grasped you so tightly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, handsome.”

“Tsk, well you did.” He sighed, “You’ll have to make it up to me, Sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“As the Teacher’s Assistant…it’s your job to help students in need, right?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I suppose. It depends on what that student needs.” Breathlessly, you spoke while imagining him on the phone with you. Making that sly smirk, toying with something that didn’t belong to him.

“My essay. Will you come help me?” You knew he’d have you in his dorm until morning. Not that anyone cared in his dorm, but this was looked down upon. A TA sleeping with her student; you should be ashamed but thank God you aren’t.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He chuckled, “Bye now…”

You arrived in lobby only four minutes later and quickly walked up to him, holding an armful of books with crooked glasses on your face. He could tell you put on a subtle amount of makeup in the car. Pajama pants waved in the wind created by the fans in the lobby, your tank top clung to your distracting figure. His eyes traced down your body. “Why is it so warm in here?” You asked while glancing over the groups of students.

“Shit. I forgot to tell you: the AC blew.” He shook his head, walking closely as you went to the elevator.

“Damn, I’m sorry. But that explains…all this.” You took a long look around the room again at the shirtless men and women in sport bras. You muttered, more needy than you expected, “You are…so lucky to live in this dorm.”

“Tsk, get in the elevator.” He lightly slapped your ass. You quickly shuffled into the elevator; your books in his arms as the doors closed. “Kenobi’s likely still in there. Midterms are knocking him on his ass.”

“He’s not the only one, I’m guessing.” You shrugged and Anakin ignored the comment before entering his dorm.

“I was thinkin’ more…write a paragraph, get some head in the study nook down the hall. Y’know, alternate between the two.” You rolled your eyes faster than he could get the words out.

“Hey, Ken.” You hugged his shoulder before sitting at Anakin’s desk. He hummed a ‘Hello’ and continued highlighting. Anakin rolled his eyes as you pushed his trash into his already full wastebasket.

“Alright, Interior decorator.”

He leaned over you as you sat, his palms on the top of the desk. “You should…get a new rolodex…” You whispered as a drop of his sweat dropped and slipped down your right breast. “It’s full.” Your heartbeat thumped quickly in your chest before you looked up at him and he was smirking.

“It’s been filled for a while now.” He added. You turned your attention to his computer. “It’s an argumentative essay over state law and federal…who should have more power or somethin’.” He waved a dismissive hand and opened your government textbook to the unit. “You’re my TA. Don’t you have the answers?”

A single line of sweat ran from his adam’s apple down his collarbones, to his pink nipple. “A- uh.” His tanned skin continued to draw your eyes back, “It’s an essay. Not a multiple-choice test.” You mumbled, “Did you keep the rubric?”

Anakin ran a hand through his hair and looked through his mess of papers from his desk. “Maybe I dropped it.” He went to Kenobi’s desk and picked his government binder from the shelf.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“See, I knew you wouldn’t mind. I just need it for a few seconds.” Anakin offered you Kenobi’s binder as you began to type his essay onto the file. “Make sure you include a few spelling mistakes.” He said while leaning over you.

'10:59’

Minutes passed and he began blabbering about his game and spinning a ball on each of his fingers—or at least trying to. “…with Notre Dame. Coach said tighten up but I’m not stressing. Half of ‘em are on coke anyway.” He shrugged, “So are you coming?”

You turned from the computer and to him. “What?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes, “Are you even listening?” He tossed his ball into a laundry basket across the room. “Come to my game!” He groaned again, his head tucked into your neck, his nose buried in your hair. “Ken’s gonna be there.”

Kenobi rolled his eyes, “I must be there. I’m the team manager. Don’t guilt trip her.” His broad shoulders strained against a sweat-soaked cotton shirt. Ken blew cool air into his shirt before he pulled it off his body. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

Anakin ignored his friend, his hands on your sides. “I can’t focus on you right now, Anakin.” You whispered as he playfully licked your neck.

“I’ll let you work.” He said, resting his chin on your shoulder as you wrote his essay.

“I expect to be paid handsomely for this.” You referenced Kenobi’s notes and your textbook as he simply watched you work.

He peered over his shoulder to be sure Ken wasn’t listening, “How about a few rounds of leg-shaking head?” You slapped one of his hands softly, “Oww!” He whispered, hugging you tighter. “For my girlfriend, you are quite feisty.”

“I’m not your girl, Ani.”

“Why is that again?” He asked before slipping his large hand into your pajama pants.

You whipped your head in his direction, “What are you doing?” You hardly whispered.

He pressed his lips against your temple, “I’m helping.” Before you could disagree with him, he moved the chair closer to the desk to conceal the location of his hand. “Just some motivation.” He whispered into your hair as his fingers ran up and down your slit. You decided to give your attention to his paper. “See? It’s working.” His fingers rest over your warm slit. “Someone shaved~”

“Oh stop! I did that before you called.” He snickered, “Ken, I need your help.”

“Don’t call him over here.” Anakin groaned and took his hand from your pants.

“Yeah? What’s the matter?” When you turned your head, your eyes were met with Ken’s bare torso. His chest covered in blonde hair as he rubbed his mustache. You stuttered for a moment before Anakin turned your head towards the computer by your braids.

“Uhm…c- could you both read this? I want it to sound natural like Anakin.”

“Sure thing.” Their hands rest on the back of the chair as they read through the paper; “You mind?” You took the warm mouse in your hand and scrolled down some. “The paper looks good…just…” Ken leaned down until his chest hair rubbed your shoulder and he began to make a few changes to the conclusion.

“Sounds like me.” Anakin shrugged.

“Alright, we can print it before class on Monday.” You began to stack your books and offered Kenobi his resources.

“Where are you going?” Ken asked as the room’s fan tossed the young men’s hair, sweat ran down their tanned bodies as you fixed the strap of your tank top. “Home already? I thought you’d stay.”

“Really?” Anakin turned his head to his dormmate. “You never let me have guests.”

“This is different.” He shrugged and organized his books on his shelves. Your eyes shifted between the two and ran down their toned backs. “She’s a TA, a good influence.” Anakin could feel that Kenobi was trying to butter you up. And right in front of him?!

You weren’t focused on the unspoken words, just the two figures, glistening with sweat under the faint desk lights. Both men were powerfully built, their muscles taut under tanned skin. Kenobi, a stockier man with a porno mustache (that you suggested), wiped a hand across his brow, leaving a streak of sweat. Anakin ran a hand through his damp, dark hair. His chest heaved slightly with each breath, revealing the network of muscles beneath his skin. 

Both men, clearly uncomfortable in the stifling heat, radiated an almost palpable aura of sexual frustration.

‘12:04 AM’

Anakin offered you his jersey and in the bathroom, you changed out of the heavy pajama pants and sweaty tank top. The airy jersey and panties gave you room to breathe as you lay in Anakin’s bed with an ice pack over your head.

“How about you stay still so I can kill you!” Anakin snapped as they leaned over the console; fingers shifting on their controllers.

“He never wins.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Anakin barked behind him as you lay on your side, observing the two. After a tussle, Anakin covered Ken’s eyes and won the in-game match. He smirked and tossed his controller on his beanbag.

“No, no, no! Rematch! That was cheating!---” Anakin followed Kenobi’s gaze to his bed. You were bent over while adjusting his puffy pillows for your head. When the room fell silent, your attention shifted to them.

“What’s wrong?” There was only silence as their hungry gazes ran over your tanned thighs and round ass up to the open sleeve of the jersey; your perky breasts showed from the side before you quickly covered yourself with a pillow. “Don’t stare!”

“You look like a model.” Anakin drooled.

“An indecent one.” Obi-wan sneered before putting his hands up, “I meant no offense!”

Anakin folded his arms over his chest, “What did you mean? Y’know, she’s my girlfriend.”

You chuckled and moved hair behind your ear. “No, I’m not.”

“Tsk, Y/n!” Kenobi was messing with something by his bed as Anakin began to beg, his face on your warm, thick thighs. “You’re the only girl I’ve seen this month!” You rolled your eyes and pushed his forehead, “I want to take us seriously. Why are you so hesitant?”

“Because you’re a man-whore.” Ken said over his shoulder as he slipped a new battery into his digital camera. You curiously sat up on your knees as he turned it on.

“What’s that for?” You asked as your hand ran through Anakin’s hair and down his back. His eyes were shut as your nails gently scratched his skin. Kenobi pressed a finger to his lips to shush you and raised the camera to his face. You discreetly moved the fabric of the jersey over and flashed a tit at the camera.

Behind Anakin’s back, you’d been fucking Ken. Only when Anakin had class and even then, he’d find any excuse to skip so it wasn’t easy. It’d been two weeks since you last fucked Ken; he’s starving for you and your teasing didn’t help. The man bit his lip as he stared at your hard nipple.

When Anakin picked up his head, you quickly kissed him. He was fairly distracted by your gesture but as the flash of Obi-wan’s camera went off, he pulled himself away. “M- mhh! What are you doing?”

“Taking pictures of my pretty girl.”

Anakin was angered as you bit your nail, a knowing look traded between you both. “What is he talking about?” A pause. “You slut.”

“Like you’re so different.” Anakin didn’t find you funny. “Just come here, Ani.” You pat the bed, crawling backward to make room for him.

“I don’t want to share.”

“You’ve been doing it for months.” Ken adds while taking more pictures of you. In the covers, Anakin couldn’t lie, you looked stunning. More than that, you looked like a woman straight out of his Playboy magazines. Anakin took the camera from his dormmates hands and began to go through them. The two turned to each other and back to you. “I have a camcorder.”

The light flashed red as it rest on the bookshelf, pointed to the bed. You rest on your hands and knees; Ken pressed his crotch against the front of your face as you left messy kisses along his cock and full balls. The two had suckled on your neck and attacked the flesh with passionate kisses. Already, the purplish-red bruises marked your skin. You’d experienced groping before but nothing so possessive. The two men groped, licked and slapped the curves of your breasts, thighs, ass and throat.

Anakin’s hands gripped your hips as he moved against you, the pace was fast and rough, but it felt so good while you arched your back. Your clit bumping into his pelvis while he bucked into you harshly, the sound was slick and wet. “You feel so fucking good~”

Ken took your tit into his hand, pinching and rolling the nipple over again in his forefinger and thumb. His breath was hot as he murmured, “Take that down your throat.” His cockhead pushed past your lips and deep into your mouth. Your fingers clung tightly to the covers as your eyes watered. “Don’t bite me.” He warned as he grabbed you by the braids and guided your hot mouth along his shaft. His head threw back as you swirled your tongue around his shaft.

The room was filled with a symphony of sounds - the creaking of the bed, the slick slap of skin against skin, and your combined moans, chokes and gasps. Obi-Wan's eyes met Anakin's, a look of shared pleasure passing between them.

As you were turned by Obi-Wan's strong hands, he took a moment to admire your curved back and the plump flesh of your rear. Ken’s blue eyes darkened with lust as he positioned himself behind you, his muscular frame hovering over your smaller form. He leaned down, his blonde hair brushing against your back as he pressed hot kisses along your shoulder blades.

Anakin fisted your long, dark hair, pulling your head back and exposing your neck as he positioned himself at your plump lips. The scent of sex and the musky aroma of the men’s arousal filled your nostrils, making your head spin. Anakin rubbed the slick tip of his cock against your soft lips, smearing them with his pre-cum. “Hm,” He chuckled, slapping your face with his cock. “Of course you want two cocks in you. I should’ve known.”

“Open your mouth.” As you parted your lips, Anakin pushed forward, sliding his hard length into your warm, wet mouth. He groaned at the sensation, his grip tightening on your hair as he began to move, fucking your face with deep, steady thrusts.

Obi-Wan matched Anakin's rhythm from behind, his hips rolling forward to bury himself deep inside of your tight heat. The dual sensations of having both men pleasuring you was overwhelming; you could feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge for the first time tonight.

Obi-Wan took the camcorder into his hand and filmed the sight of your jiggling ass that slapped so lewdly against his hips. His hand slid down to slap your ass a few times; staining your cheeks with red marks. Your pussy tightened from the slaps and unique grind of Ken’s hips. The room was filled with the obscene sounds of their balls against your skin, and their ragged breaths and moans. “Haha!” The man filmed the sight of saliva on your face and in your hair as Anakin treated you roughly.

Anakin continued to thrust into your pretty mouth, his grip on your hair tightening as he found his sweet spot in your throat. “Look at me.” Your eyes lolled up to meet Anakin’s gaze. He could feel you choking and whining; your throat vibrating around his sensitive cock, only serving to make him cum faster. Ken drove into you with deep, and quick strokes that had you seeing stars.

Obi-Wan's hands slid around to your front, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. You pulled your head from Anakin’s cock and broke down trembling, pathetic squeals left your lips. “Shhh.” Ken chuckled past your ear as he filmed your face. He could feel your walls starting to flutter around his hard length, and he knew you were close.

Anakin couldn’t care less about your helpless whimpers. He took the camera and pulled you by your hair, his balls pressed onto your face. You lapped at the swells and took them into your mouth.

Anakin placed the camera behind him and pulled his balls out of your mouth with a groan, a string of saliva connecting his package to your swollen lips. He flipped you over onto your back, holding your legs up and spreading them wide for Ken. Obi-Wan followed suit, never breaking his rhythm as he continued to drive into your hot, tight core.

Together, they worked in tandem, their bodies moving as one as they brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. Anakin leaned down, capturing your swollen lips in a lewd kiss, swallowing your gasps. Ken’s fingers began to work your clit once more, rubbing and circling the sensitive bud as he felt his own release approaching.

Before long, Anakin’s cock filled your tilted mouth again.  Your back arched off the bed, your nails digging into Anakin's thighs as you finally let go. Your orgasm crashed over like a tidal wave, your inner walls clenching and spasming around Ken’s pistoning length.

As you lay on your back, Anakin gripped your hair tightly and picked up the pace of his frenzied thrusts into your mouth. His hips snapped forward rapidly, slamming his thick cock deep into your throat with each stroke. “Good girllll…” Ken continued to drive into your fluttering, over-sensitive pussy from below, extending that perfectly intense orgasm. As you purred, he could feel your walls still clenching and unclenching around him, milking his own release.

Anakin's pace became erratic as he neared his own climax. With a strangled groan, he pushed himself balls-deep into your mouth and held himself there, his cock pulsing as he spilled his hot seed down your throat. His balls covered your nose as you began to search for air. Obi-Wan followed seconds later, spilling his own release deep inside your quivering core with a low, deep moan of your name.

“M- more.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged a glance, a look of surprise and renewed arousal passing between them at your plea.

Some time later

Anakin sat up, his sculpted abs glistening with a sheen of sweat. He scooped you up into his arms, his hand gripping your thigh possessively as he positioned you to straddle his lap. His cock, already hardening again, prodded against your cum-covered entrance.

With that, Anakin pulled you down, spearing you onto his hardening length in one smooth, deep thrust. At the same time, Ken pressed against your back, his own fat cock nestling between your warm ass cheeks as he began to grind through them. Your hands cuffed around Anakin’s face as they exhaled onto your sweaty skin.

Anakin gripped your hips, slamming you down onto his thick cock with each powerful thrust. Behind her, Obi-Wan's hands slid around to grope your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers. He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing each cry of pleasure as the sex grew more intense. “You want me to cum in your ass?”

You could only moan and whimper in response, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being so thoroughly taken by the two athletes. You could feel Obi-Wan's hard length pressing insistently against your backside, grinding in time with Anakin's relentless thrusts.

Their pace grew more intense, more urgent, as they chased their next releases. The small room was filled with the sound of their harsh breaths, and of course, your needy moans. You could feel the coil of another orgasm building low in your belly, your walls started to flutter and clench around Anakin's plundering length.

“Please…I- I” Your voice quieter than you expected as they each took a side of your neck into their mouths. Ken gently slipped inside of your tight ass; his hand pressed on the back wall behind Anakin’s head.

Anakin watched your twitching features. “Cumslut.” Your body convulsed, back arching as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your pussy clenched and spasmed around Anakin's pistoning length, milking him for all he was worth. “A- hmp!” His head hit the back of the wall as he buried himself deep inside of you. Ken’s cock pushed past the tight rings of your asshole as he came within the perfect, suckling heat.

Your lips were taken by Ken’s before given to Anakin. You tried your best to keep your mind still as their cocks nestled inside of you. Anakin’s tongue rubbed against yours; Ken’s tongue licked up and down your neck as their sweaty skin pressed against yours.

a/n: long one, hope you enjoyed!! I wrote this a month-ish ago so pls ignore the mediocre writing here.

Interact with my Anakin master list to be tagged: (it's on a rotation, today is the ACTUAL last day for this one!!)

@littlestpadfoot @thescxrpio @fullclodponycop @kirbie44danielle @duck6789 @mcxdiaz @maneater97 @swiftiesimonriley @yeonjinnie @laddle @daughterofstairs @edenizzyx @eymie @xxhvzelxx @bored-as-fuck @viviennebloom @jujustarwars1 @kaaaatta-blog @javierpenaspentis @cherrylvrsworld @kellyburkesblog @decaffeinatedcrowntragedy @kaggelagge @naomiisme2 @heretonerdout @reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @xlovingyoux @hakanaijeon @skywalkershootme @vixenhatesyou @meowmeowjang @slingggshot @cdfvgbhnjm @peachpit31 @carterc15 @smithcaityy @sisterofreverance @hellomwah @blondiebatter @aqqjjk @radiantvader @anthrais @xhino3 @valyna27 @wuxianwrld @discobronzer @melaninswift @justthingzsblog @stanyuqisworld @ppoppy-seed @fawninthesnow @sunwxoxo @santinstar @mvst4far @sythethecarrot

Dividers (as always) from @cursed-carmine

[reidsism]

➵ RECORDS!READER DATABASE

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist

a semi-chronological collection of short blurbs feat. records!reader

off the record — you haven’t personally assisted on a case in at least six years, preferring the silence of the records room, surrounded by decades-old casefiles and shelving that reaches the ceiling. but when the bau requests your help on an unsub copying a string of murders from the 60s that hasn’t been digitized yet, you get a taste of what teamwork feels like

a project — dr reid visits basement three for the first time since joining the fbi. it’s… a little jarring, how empty it is. but the records room is quiet chaos and he thinks it’s a fine place to make a friend

coffee run — dr reid brings you a gift. sort of

tornado nest — you’re still unused to another presence in your little hobbit hole

frigid — a blizzard hits quantico. dr reid checks on the records room, even with basement three feeling like ice

loch ness — your first non-sanctioned trip to the bau is met with the upwards brows of derek morgan, and maybe dr reid gets a bit too defensive

encyclopedic — the bau needs help on the case of a copycat of a copycat… of a copycat

suddenly essential — you’re used to being a myth, a cryptid in the basement of the bureau. you think you’re a bit out of your depth

lunch? — dr reid brings you lunch for the first time. seeing you twelve feet in the air climbing a shelf is… not what he was expecting

computer fairy — you and garcia are polar opposites. somehow you can’t help the immediate connection

visitation — you’re expecting this unexpected visitor to be dr reid, like always. to say you’re shocked is an understatement

sunshine — you’re yanked out of your crypt unceremoniously, for the convenience of vending machines and cell service and sunlight

daylight savings — dr reid notices everything. even the way you curl into yourself when leaving your hobbit hole

B.B.O. — garcia visits your little cave. she has a plan

organizational structure — the bau doesn’t understand your complex filing system. you decode your hieroglyphics

biography — you meet agent rossi for the first time. he likes you already

[pittsick]

do u have any out of pocket headcanons about robby or abbot? i’m SO excited for ur robby fic!! xoxo

PLEASE if only you knew how weird my mind is working right now… out of pocket headcanons? count me IN. 😫😫

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH.

★ ── Has a folder on his home computer labeled “Hematology Slides,” which is actually full of cursed memes, reaction images, and exactly one tasteful nude sketch he did of himself while drunk.

★ ── Sleeps like a Victorian child recovering from consumption. Full pajamas, socks, a glass of water by the bed, and a notebook where he writes down “thoughts to repress tomorrow.”

★ ── Once tried microdosing caffeine pills to stay “sharp” during a 36-hour shift. Ended up writing 14 pages of a medical erotic thriller about a haunted defibrillator and then crying about it in the staff bathroom.

JACK ABBOT.

★ ── Has been banned from three different medical conferences for “unauthorized demonstrations.” One of them involved a blowtorch, a pig lung, and a rant about the healthcare-industrial complex.

★ ── Has an OnlyFans but it’s just pictures of weird medical anomalies and his feet. Charges $30 a month. Has so many subscribers.

★ ── Punched a vending machine so hard it started dispensing free snacks. Now considered a legend by all the interns. Refuses to admit he broke his knuckle doing it.

[chara-cat5]

lads college au

meeting the boys

this is a college au in a normal modern universe (ours). not gonna change their unnatural features (purple hair, red eyes)but theres no evols or what not. trying to keep it gender neural but fem leaning. at the very least afab mc/reader.

masterlist link

caleb- childhood friends separated at early in age. getting his basics before pilot school.

it was on the way to class, when you're already gonna be late and in a rush. "shit shit shit, he's gonna lock the door on me!"

iconically, rounding a corner and slamming into a firm chest, landing right on your ass with a soft grunt. looking up, you're met with purple eyes that reflect your surprise.

"jesus- are you okay? sorry about that."

your gratefully take his outstretched hands,noticing his tilted head as he takes in your appearance. wait, those purple eyes...

"pipsqueak?"-"caleb?"

your words overlap, speaking at the same time, a bright smile breaking out over his lips.

"yooooo, it is you! it's been ages!"

back when you were kids, caleb was your neighbor, a nice boy who wouldn't just push you away cause you were younger or more feminine. he'd smile and laugh as you trudged along with him through the woods or climbed playground equipment. he'd always keep an eye out for you and you'd return the favor by sharing treats or pressing hello kitty bandaids to his knees. it was great, growing up for the first few years with him before you had to move before middle school.

back to his dopey grin, you see that he's grown quite a bit taller since then... remembering yourself, your face pales as you remember your class, grabbing your bag from the ground as you pull away.

"can't talk. late to class! nice seeing you caleb!"

--------------------------------------------------------

zayne- academic rivals? project partners. going to be doctor obviously.

you padded into the library, brain already coming up with ideas for the project. it was a partner assigned project, and you could only pray that your partner was at least a little capable. with a huff, you moved toward the best table in the library. it was partly tucked away so no many people would look over but gave a perfect view of the rest of the room.

"then i can spot when this 'zayne' comes in."

your mumbled words were to yourself, but a dark haired boy already sitting at your table heard them.

"... would that that make you my partner then?"

you blinked at him before hesitantly putting your bag on the table.

"are you... are you zayne?"

he nodded, his hazel eyes already darting back to his laptop.

"that would be me, yes. now that you've arrived, we can start planning out this project. i expect you to do your half and do it well. my grad won't suffer because of you."

this boy.

"then we're on the same page because i will be expecting the same from you."

your smile was strained as you pulled out your own laptop, not meeting his gaze as he watched you. he seemed unbothered by your passive aggressive tone, quickly going back to typing on his computer.

"did you have any ideas for the project?"

--------------------------------------------------------

sylus- is he going to college? if so, business major probably.

it was after class and nothing hit better then a nice cold dr pepper, so of course you took a moment at the vending machine on the way between the school and your dorm. okay, maybe on the way was a stretch, but walking is good for you, maybe... or maybe dr p is just that good- i don't know man. needless to say, when instead of a clear window to the glorious beverage, you saw two hooded redheads, you were a little irritated. that only grew when you realized they had almost all the sodas left from the vending machine in their arms, bags or on the ground.

what. the. fuck.

clenching your jaw, you stalk over, gaze catching one dr pepper in the machine. clearing your throat and putting a forced cheery smile, you tapped one of the boys on the shoulder.

"excuse me, do you mind if i get a soda?"

two pairs of reflected eyes looked over, almost as if they'd been caught.

"uhh...."

"you can buy on from us"

"it'll be 5 bucks."

bullshit. your smile grew strained. what were they doing? trying to hustle you?

"no, i think i'll just get the one from the machine, thank you."

they looked back at each other before standing shoulder to shoulder in front of you, blocking the way from what you wanted. so it's the hard way they want, huh? you really wanna come between a dr pepper fan? they're crazy!

"look, you two either move or i get to show you what a stressed out college student does without caffeine."

your dark tone and gaze gave them pause. the scam wasn't working... without waiting for a response, you pushed between them, shoving your crinkled dollar into the machine. its only after you've gotten your soda that you realize another person has joined the party. he looked older then what were clearly twins, his red eyes and white hair a contrast to his black jacket. narrowing your eyes at him, you sipped your drink.

"are these your friends? be a better influence on them. their scam is shit."

he narrowed his own eyes but his lips tugged up into a smirk.

"apologies kitten, i'll teach better next time."

it's only after you get home that your realize, those guys were shifty... maybe you shouldn't have been passive aggressive with random men.

--------------------------------------------------------

xavier- he sleeps in class 💀 he's on law track?? what is hunter equivalent? maybe he doesn't know what he wants yet. seems like the type.

this class was boring. you could admit that- hell, you agreed with the opinion. but, it was required and not only that, it was a difficult class to pass. the professor was strict, wanting perfection and god forbid someone fell asleep... so why was this boy testing fate? a lump of blond hair laid on the table, sitting next to you, soft snores leaving his form. there was no way he'd escape the professor's attention for long, most likely startled awake by him slamming a book by his ear. you wince at the idea, not wanting to hear the loud sound nor see such a sound sleep disturbed.

"maybe i could help?"

you hesitantly open your textbook, propping it up in front pf him, blocking his sleeping form from the professor's view. sure, maybe it was a little suspicious, but it was better then what he had going on before. when class finally ended, you let out a sigh of relief, tucking your laptop in your bag. the professor didn't notice and class had peacefully went on with out the dramatics of a sleeping student. before you could stand up, your text book was held out in front of you. your gaze trailed up to sleepy blue eyes.

"thank you. for covering for me."

as you take the textbook, you nod with a smile, tucking it next to your computer.

"it's no problem really. although, i'd suggest sleeping elsewhere."

he smiles back, standing up and pulling his own bag on his shoulder, yawning.

"yeah, i guess you're right. i'll go sleep in my next class."

as he walked off, you couldn't help but tilt your head.

"why doesn't he just go back to his dorm? he's not paying attention to his classes anyway."

--------------------------------------------------------

rafayel- taking art class together. mc/reader sees his work and is like damn?! he's clearly a sweat, okay bub. obviously gonna be an artist. duh

art class is often considered an easy a, but even then, there were more people in this class then you'd think... on second thought, there were more girls in this class then you'd think... the professor assigned everyone to work on drawing a few bottles. not exciting but you need to understand basic shapes before you can do fun stuff. you were working on the assignment, not really paying attention to the world when the other girls got restless. they were whispering among themselves, giggling as a purple haired boy got to work on a painting by the window. half way through the class period, the professor told the students to take a break. while the other students left, you finished up the bottle you were working on. when you happened to look up, you saw that the purple haired boy had wandered off. curious of what he was painting, it was easy to slink over, peeking at the canvas. it wasn't done, but even so, damn was it good! it's not that it was photo realistic, but the colors- the shape language- it was beautiful.

"ahem."

you startled at that, shoulders going stiff as you looked back at the sound. purple hair had his arms crossed as he looked at you, tapping his foot. he paused once blue-pink eyes met yours.

"thats the color..."

he stepped closer, startling you further as you stepped back in response. he stepped past you, diving into his paints and stirring a few colors together. when he held up his tray, they matched the color of your eyes, making you tilt your head.

"... my eyes?"

he nodded, glancing over with a smile.

"yep. you have the perfect shade i needed. thanks cutie."

you part your lips to speak when the professor walks back in, her gaze going to the two of you.

"i thought i said to take a break. go eat something you two!"

--------------------------------------------------------

[13atoms]

Working Late (Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader)

Summary: After a busy few weeks, you spend a friday night in the office catching up on the never-ending pile of paperwork which appears whenever the team are whisked away on a case. To your surprise, a colleague decides to join you.

Contains: Fluff, very gentle friends-to-lovers, early seasons spencer, food | 2k words.

If you listened for long enough, you could hear the distant hum of the vending machine.

The office was empty. It was long past the time where other departments turned their lights off, and it became acceptable to sling your shoes off and pad around in socks. The BAU was in high demand lately, and it felt as though the last three cases had been back-to-back-to-back. You could hardly remember what your bed looked like, your apartment floor was covered in clothes from hastily repacking suitcases, and the thought of cleaning it up was enough to keep you in the office.

At 7:30pm, even the most dedicated of your colleagues had rightfully headed home to partners, or sports clubs, or kids. That only left you, and the team’s mountain of paperwork which only grew each time you headed out on a case.

I’ll work late tonight, catch up on everything, then crash for the whole weekend, you’d promised Garcia at lunch. In one breath, she’d claimed that was impressive, that everyone would love you forever for getting it done, and warned you to take care of yourself.

Sometimes it was hard to know how to. You felt dreadful being here, you'd feel worse if you went home, thinking about the work hanging over you. For a moment you lay with your head on your forearm, idly massaging out the headache that had started to form.

Dinner, you realised. You hadn’t eaten dinner. Maybe that was why you felt dreadful.

The temptation to just go home would be too strong if you went out to get it, so you headed for the drawer in the kitchen full of takeout menus.

While you were flicking through the pile for the least sticky menus, the elevator doors opened.

It was almost certainly security checking to see who was still up here, or a cleaner making their rounds. Nonetheless, with half the building dark, it was hard not to suddenly be on high alert. In socked feet, you tiptoed back along the corridor until you could see the doors, already sliding closed with the carriage empty.

You crept further forward, until you could see a man, hair slightly damp around his face and a satchel looped over his body. Reid. He was stood behind your desk, peering at the computer you had left on, as though he was confused.

“Evening,” you offered, pushing against the warm fondness you felt as he jolted away from your chair in surprise.

“The computer screens turn themselves off after five minutes of inactivity, and you never leave yours unlocked. I figured something must have happened.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to your socked feet, then back to your face.

“Evening.”

“I just went to get menus,” you held them up limply, and Reid smiled.

“Have you not been home yet?”

“No, I can’t believe you’ve been home!”

“I actually went home early,” he admitted the fact as though he was embarrassed. You were fairly sure Hotch had shoved him out of the elevator doors.

“You’ve snuck back in, them?”

Finally you crossed the bullpen, sinking back into your office chair. Reid perched on the next desk over.

“Couldn’t settle – I figured I could get through everything quickly, save everyone the job…”

“Especially after we’re inevitably called in over the weekend, and all these cases feel like a lifetime ago.”

He smiled grimly.

“Exactly.”

For a moment it was silent, and you felt a little caught at Reid finding you in the office alone like this. Your headphones lay out on the desk, music blaring tinnily from them, and you felt your face grow warm as you reached across to turn the music off.

“So you’re getting food?” he hadn’t moved, gesturing at the menus.

“Yeah. Have you had dinner?”

“Not really. If you don’t mind me joining you…”

“Not at all,” you insisted, “please.”

He glanced over the options you’d laid out, over the three piles on your desk. You wondered how long ago he’d showered, his hair was straighter than usual with the weight of being damp. He was wearing one of his usual jumpers, but he must have put a t-shirt on underneath it. There was something odd about seeing him without a shirt collar. Some insight into what Spencer wore when he wanted to be comfortable, when he thought he wouldn’t be seen.

“I– Thank you. I don’t mind going out to get it?”

“I usually just order it in, and then get security call me down and accept it.”

Reid frowned, no doubt prepared to reel off dozens of stats about security risks.

“Is that allowed?”

“No one’s ever stopped me,” you shrugged, only to delight in Reid’s wide, nervous smile.

 He’d never had the chance to be a naughty schoolboy, you’d often reflected, it was why he often seemed to look like he was being called into the principal’s office.

“So long as you make the call…”

“Don’t want to get in trouble?” you teased, and Spencer laughed.

“Absolutely not! That’s the last thing I need.”

“Well then, in that case I’m choosing Chinese. Pick something.”

You tossed him a menu, and he glanced it over before looking up to think. You’d never quite get over the way his mind worked.

Once the order was placed and Spencer had laughed over your stomach grumbling, reality sunk back in. Sat at your desk, on a Friday night, under fluorescent lights.

“Isn’t it funny to have your dream job, and it’s still so boring most of the time,” you mused, and Spencer just chuckled.

He still hadn’t moved to start his work.

“I know what you mean.”

He paused for a moment.

“Was this your dream job?”

Oh, no.

“Is that lame? I assumed this was everyone here’s dream job,” you admitted.

Spencer shrugged, and you found yourself watching him desperately for any kind of redemption from the ache of embarrassment you were feeling in your chest. It shouldn’t matter, whether Spencer thought you were lame. Somehow, it seemed like the only thing that did matter.

“I suppose I never knew where I’d end up, but I’m glad it was here.”

You nodded, waiting for him to speak more. Spencer spoke a lot, defended himself with constant talking. It was something different, rare, when he was talking about his own past.

“What am I talking about? Yeah,” he was smiling, and that meant you were smiling right back at him, all toothy and lame, “this is my dream job.”

“If it was really a dream job, they’d pay for our dinners,” you teased, and Spencer laughed.

“That’s true enough. Oh!”

He rifled through his wallet, pulling out a twenty and hunting for more.

“My half,” he offered, “thank you for letting me crash your dinner.”

“Not at all, it’s nice the you’re here! And I wasn’t angling for you to pay me back, Spencer. Don’t be daft.”

“No, you just reminded me, is all.”

He put the cash down beside your hand with an eyebrow raise, and you laughed.

“Thank you.”

You wondered how someone sourced bills so clean, it wasn’t as ratty as the cash you grabbed from your wallet.

“I’ll take it as danger money, in case security squeal on us for ordering takeout.”

“I’m not sure the late night paperwork should the riskiest part of the job.”

He laughed, and finally made a move to stand up. Suddenly you were overcome by the need to stop him from going anywhere.

“What have you got left to do?” you asked.

“Case reports, a few bits of random paperwork, I think there’s a security review and some statements to type up…”

As you talked over the workload, you realised you’d done some of the work Spencer had intended to. He offered to take over on some things, and you knew he’d complete the work perfectly, until finally the workload split between the two of you felt manageable. He pulled a chair over to share your desk, and by the time the food had arrived, you felt far better about your odds of getting home before midnight.

“Do you want to try some of this?” you offered Spencer, catching him watching you.

“Oh, um, yeah actually.”

You hadn’t really meant it. Spencer didn’t share, you’d already double-dipped and your chopsticks had been in your mouth and…

“Do you want a spring roll? These are amazing.”

You let him use his chopsticks to drop a spring roll into your container, and you smiled your thanks as he did. His face was suddenly far closer to you than you’d realised, knees inches apart as  you struggled to share one desk.

“Hm,” you mumbled, “that is good!”

“Right!”

For a while you ate in silence, and if you forgot about the fluorescent lights and stale scent of office, it was like you were sharing dinner together by choice. Spencer in his casuals, you still shoe-less, perched casually on your chair, it was nice.

“So, do you have weekend plans?”

He’d be silent for so long, you hardly heard him.

“Hm?”

“Weekend plans,” his voice dropped quieter, less stable. “What are you up to?”

Spencer was asking what your weekend plans were. Spencer.

“I just thought… asking about… asking about your weekend shows that I care for your wellbeing and builds social rapport between colleagues, or… I mean, I think we’re friends at this point? Too? So I just wanted to know what your weekend plans were.”

He was bright red and staring down at his noodles, you could see the rise and fall of his chest, the panic growing in him.

“No, Spencer, I appreciate you asking. I’m, uh, just planning on crashing to be honest. I have to clean my apartment, do all my laundry. Nothing too exciting. And my building’s laundry room is flooded – again – so I guess it’s a long wait at the laundromat.”

Desperate to say anything, to make Spencer feel better – and make sure he didn’t regret talking to you – you found yourself rambling on and on, until he was smiling nervously. Still avoiding your eye, he interrupted you gently.

“Public laundromats have all kinds of risks. My biggest concern is always bed bugs – even commercial machines in laundromats often can’t kill bed bug eggs, leading them to be transferred between customers…”

“Oh, god Spencer, that’s really not making me feel better!”

“No! I just mean… I have in-unit, for that reason. Disinfected regularly.”

You looked at him, bemused, the warm food in your lap forgotten. He paused, and met your eyes, a lock of hair falling over his face. He brushed it back.

“Oh! I meant, I wasn’t bragging about my washer being clean. Uh, you’re welcome to use mine, if you’d rather.”

It was the strangest thing that had ever made your heart clench with fondness. He was still blushing, clearly afraid he’d said the wrong thing, done something weird again. It was your first instinct not to bother him, but at the innocent look in his wide, brown eyes, you found yourself accepting.

“That would be amazing, if you wouldn’t mind, Spencer. Be warned, I’ve got a lot of laundry to do, you can kick me out anytime you get sick of me,” you teased.

“I know, from all the travelling. You’re wearing clothes you never normally wear, presumably because all your favourites need washing.”

You stared at him, processing for a moment. You could see his finger tapping against the side of his thigh, the smile he was trying to hide.

“You can stay as long as you like,” he clarified.

“Maybe we can watch a boxset or something, if you like?”

The raise of his eyebrows was enough to make you laugh, and he quickly looked away, taking another mouthful of rice.

“Doctor Who?”

There was nothing you wouldn’t have watched with Spencer, as you woke up the next morning blessedly free of work calls and lazily made your way to his apartment with two suitcases full of washing and a huge bags of Skittles for Reid. He’d surprised you with a made lunch, and with a freshly cleaned washer and dryer. Despite the way he made himself scarce when you pulled out underwear and bundled it into his washing machine, two hours later, he was brave enough to sneak an arm around your shoulder.

You sank your face to his chest, and listened to the pounding of his heart. By the time Christopher Eccleston had met his first Dalek, you knew a lot of your future  would be spent on this couch.