#Technical Debt Management | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkmatilda · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it's time to return the second favor. and for that reason, spencer finds himself invited by you...on a date?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist!female reader, fake date at the bar, reader's ex makes an appearance, kinda inspired by blank space taylor swift

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.5 k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request

[unknown number] wake up pretty boy

[unknown number] time to pay your debt

Spencer, sitting on his bed with a book resting on his lap, stared at the message for a moment, his brows slightly furrowed. Evening, the warm glow of his lamp making it easy to read. He had the next day off, no real plans, just a quiet night ahead. The sudden chime of his phone had caught him off guard.

For a split second, he was surprised—but he didn’t have to think too hard to guess who the sender was.

He typed out how did you get my number, then deleted it before hitting send. Something else was far more interesting. And a little concerning. That second message. Pay your debt. She remembered about that now, at this hour?

Before he could ask, another text came in.

[unknown number] taking you on a date

[unknown number] dress nice

For a moment, deeply confused, he just stared at his phone, already sensing somewhere deep inside that this was going to be a really weird night.

[spencer] What do you mean by ‘date’?

A minute or two passed. He didn’t put his phone down. Didn’t even look away from the screen.

[unknown number] the one who asks questions loses his way

His fingers moved automatically.

[spencer] That’s not how the saying goes

✓ Seen 10:12 pm

Reid sighed. He had absolutely no plans to go out that evening, and he wasn’t thrilled about the fact that he hadn’t been given any details about this so-called date. Unless she was joking? There was something off about this—some kind of trick, a twist he hadn’t figured out yet.

The only thing stopping him from ignoring her messages—something he very much wanted to do—was the simple fact that he did owe her. Technically, twice. Though he had managed to repay one of those debts in an easy way, requiring almost no effort on his part.

He had a feeling this second one wouldn’t be nearly as simple.

And now he found himself wondering what exactly she meant by dress nicely.

"Wait, one more time. We’re going there as her… what?"

"Mental support," she said, moving forward with that usual quick stride of hers, the sharp tapping of her heels almost aggressive. Whether unconsciously or fully aware but not caring, she got a few steps ahead of him, speaking without turning back. Her voice hung in the night, street air.

Spencer hated when she did that. It made him feel like a dog on a leash. He sped up to match her pace.

"Well, I heard you," he scoffed. "Doesn’t mean I get what you mean. And maybe you should clue me in if I’m supposed to be part of…whatever this is”

She stopped with a sigh so heavy it was as if giving him any details about something he was supposed to be part of was beyond her patience and strength. Hands tucked into the pockets of his blazer, he gave her a questioning look as she finally turned to face him.

His gaze dropped—quick, casual. Or at least, that’s how he thought it looked. Even at night, under the less-than-ideal glow of the streetlights, he could register how her outfit hugged her figure, emphasizing every curve.

At work, she dressed more formally. With her looks, that face, and the unshakable confidence she carried, she could probably make a burlap sack look like a designer gown. But Spencer had noticed something about the way she dressed for nights like this. Or rather, the way she became something else entirely. Like she belonged to the night, completely in her element.

Quick, casual glance—yeah, right.

To make the situation even more embarrassing, she snapped her fingers in front of his face, demanding his attention.

"Alright, listen up," she started, shifting her weight onto one hip. "I’m explaining this one last time. My friend, Liv—you might know her from my team…"

"Olivia, you mean," He said her full name in confirmation, recognizing the woman he had indeed seen before.

"Do you really have to correct me on how I call my own friends? Anyway, fine. Olivia has a date tonight with some guy she met online. The thing is, Olivia is a hopeless romantic who’s waiting for the love of her life to magically show up at her door, but she’s also buried in work and can’t even remember the last time she went on a date. Plus, she’s a little worried about ending up with some psycho. You know what I mean."

"All too well," he nodded, recalling all the missing persons cases that had started exactly like this—an online match gone wrong.

“Exactly. So Olivia asked me to come along. You know, for physical backup if anything goes sideways. And mental backup. Just to make her feel safer."

Well, he didn’t want to praise her out loud, but it was…nice of her. Okay, nice wasn’t the perfect word—honestly, the fact that she even had to do something like this was a little bitter at its core—but it didn’t change the fact that she was being a good friend.

He watched her for a moment, not even realizing he had gone quiet. He realized he’d never actually seen her interact with her people, her team, but he had somehow assumed their dynamic was more… detached. Not that she genuinely considered them her friends and actually cared.

"Finally caught up, genius?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Spencer snapped out of it. Okay, so maybe she cared about her friends—but she was still seriously unbearable.

"I get it. Except for one thing," he replied, matching her slightly rude tone, one that made him sound almost offended. She raised a brow, nodded as if giving him permission to continue, and started walking again—this time at a slower pace.

Actually, they were moving at almost the same rhythm now, nearly side by side.

"Why do you need me for this?"

Their eyes met, but this time, she didn’t look like she was about to mock him. In fact, the corners of her lips lifted slightly, as if she thought that was a very good question.

"Because tonight, pretty boy, I plan to stay completely on the sidelines," she explained. "Not interfering with my friend or her date in any way. Being completely invisible."

"Invisible?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

It wasn’t even just about what she was wearing. Drawing attention was simply an unavoidable part of her presence. She nodded in confirmation.

"Exactly. But I figured that to keep away all the desperate guys trying to get my number, all I need to do is bring one with me," she looked like she was trying not to laugh. "You’re gonna be my scarecrow."

Spencer's mouth fell slightly open, completely at a loss for words.

"You…you are just… just…"

"Amazing, smart, beautiful, wonderful…"

"Shameless. That’s the word"

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her expression filled with a strange kind of complacency.

"Love when you compliment me," she said in an overly sweet tone.

"That wasn’t—" he started, but then cut himself off, realizing there was probably no point in arguing with her. He sighed.

"You’re welcome."

Despite the late hour, the bar wasn’t overcrowded. Sure, there were plenty of people inside, but most were engaged in quiet conversations over their drinks. Spencer noticed quite a few couples. As if they were one of them, they found a secluded spot in the corner, right next to a small pool table made of dark wood with a striking green surface.

"That’s them," the woman discreetly motioned with her head toward the pair at the bar— a cascade of blonde curls and the man accompanying her. She fixed them with an assessing gaze, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Hm. He looks like his pictures. I’ll take that as the first good sign."

"She shows you pictures of her dates?"

"Every single time. We rate them on a scale from one to ten."

Spencer wasn’t surprised in the slightest. His gaze briefly shifted in their direction, though he made sure not to stare, not wanting to make them look weird. The pair seemed to be talking a little shyly—it was obvious this was their first meeting.

“So,” he started. “Is this what we’re going to do all night? Just stand here?”

“Basically, yeah. I mean, we don’t have to just stand around like a couple of creeps, staring at them. We can enjoy our date. Just because it’s fake doesn’t mean it can’t be fun,” she said, slowly circling the pool table until they were on opposite sides.

She slipped off her outer layer, and Spencer couldn’t help but notice that her outfit underneath did anything but help her stay invisible. Reaching for a pool cue, she nodded at him.

“What are you waiting for?”

“You want to play?”

“No, I want to duel you with the cues,” she scoffed. “I’m a professional, you know.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow slightly as he grabbed a cue of his own.

"Professional?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mhm. World championships and all that. But that was a while ago. Then came the injury, and I had to say goodbye to my career. After that, I had no idea what to do with myself, so I became a chemist," she said, with a casual shrug.

He chuckled at the made-up story, setting the pool balls up into a perfect triangle at the center of the table. Once they were ready, he gestured for her to go ahead.

She refused with an exaggerated, almost overly generous smile. "Oh, no. Amateurs go first."

He held back a roll of his eyes, leaning over the table. The balls scattered across the surface, and from that point on, he'd play with the cue ball. It was her turn now, and Spencer watched her movements closely.

"I didn't know your story before the FBI job was so fascinating," he remarked, trying to throw her off a little.

They hadn't made any bet, but there was a subtle competitiveness in him now.

She shrugged.

"I don't think it's fascinating. More tragic. Lost dreams."

"Right, sorry for my disregard. What kind of injury was it?"

She paused for a moment, focusing on her next shot. One of the balls sank smoothly into a pocket, and a small smile played on her lips.

"Shoulder," she replied casually. "Sometimes it still acts up. I have to go for regular massages."

"Poor thing," he said, his tone teasing.

Her gaze briefly scanned the entire bar, landing once again on her friend. Nothing seemed to bother her, so she returned to the game.

"We're playing just for fun? Don't you think that's a bit boring?"

"Sorry, I don’t want to bet with you again. Paying off debts with you is never easy."

"Come on. You’re having fun with me”

"You think so?"

“No. I know it."

She potted another ball, gaining the upper hand. Spencer puffed his lips, deciding to focus more on the game. They both did, though it didn't stop them from continuously exchanging similar comments, remarks, and jabs. And despite the countless huffs and eye rolls, he had to admit, he was really having fun. With her.

And even more fun when he realized he was close to winning.

With a certain satisfaction, he noticed she was watching his moves with more attention, her eyes slightly narrowed with cool competition. As he leaned over the table again, she moved toward him lightly, almost as if tiptoeing. She passed by almost unnoticed. In fact, he only realized how close she was when her breath softly grazed the inside of his ear as she spoke in the voice of a social commentator.

"Ladies and gentlemen, to the surprise of the entire audience, amateur Spencer Reid has managed to take the lead," her whisper was laced with feigned suspense. Of course, he refrained from moving, making sure not to make a mistake from distraction. "Will he manage to win today's tournament?"

He straightened up with a sigh, which made her step back slightly. He gave her a look full of mock pity, and she responded by slowly blinking her eyes, imitating the gaze of an innocent angel.

"I'm pretty sure this counts as sabotage," he remarked.

She raised both hands in the air, as if defending herself against the accusation.

"Hey, I'm not doing anything," she denied, a subtle spark in her eye. She gave a quick nod toward the table. "Come on, finish it."

Spencer, uncertain and sensing she was up to something, tried to refocus. When he found the perfect angle and was about to hit the white ball, something nudged his elbow, causing it to roll in the completely wrong direction.

He directed a look at her, mouth open in indignation.

"This is... this is cheating, pure cheating..."

"No idea what you're talking about!" she shot back. She pretended to be serious, though in an incredibly clumsy way. Her lips kept trembling, trying to form a smile, and she struggled to suppress it. "I didn't do anything. Your hand must have slipped..."

At the sight of the expression on his face, she couldn't hold back anymore and burst into laughter. It mixed with the sound of his incessantly muttered, mildly irritated comments under his breath, which absolutely didn't reach her conscience. In fact, it seemed to only make her feel more smug. Spencer finally gave in, letting out a sigh.

"I demand a fair rematch."

With her arms crossed over her chest, she raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead, then," she said, grabbing the cue stick again.

Her friend and her date were still deep in conversation, sitting much closer than before, with small smiles on their faces. They didn't seem like they were in any hurry to end the evening. A few new people had arrived at the bar, making it louder, but Spencer didn't even notice. He was completely focused on this small, occupied space between them where they were slowly giving in to the growing rivalry, even though nothing had been wagered. It was probably just about pride.

His opponent was doing everything in her power to make his game harder. He'd abandoned all pretenses of fairness and stood right beside her whenever she leaned over the pool table. He didn't even intend to nudge her—but when he was close, she assumed he would and became incredibly cautious, often elbowing him in the ribs to make space for herself to focus. Despite all of this, they were laughing. He even forgot for a moment that he had planned to spend the evening entirely differently.

They played a few more rounds, each of them winning the same number of games. He announced the next one, but before starting, he briefly disappeared into the bathroom. Simply because, well, he needed to use it.

As he washed his hands, he could hear the hum of conversations, laughter, and music, all muffled by the door. It felt a bit warm, despite the fact that he'd taken off his jacket a while ago. For some reason, he suddenly became self-conscious about how he looked, though he hadn't thought about it at all before. After all, it wasn’t like he was on a date with some woman he was trying to impress. Still, driven by some inner impulse, he fixed his hair and smoothed the fabric of his shirt with his hands, rolling up the sleeves so they wouldn’t get wet while washing. He hesitated for a moment before lowering them again, surprised to sense someone's gaze on him.

The tall man with black hair, a rather sturdy build, and narrow glasses on his nose didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring at him. Spencer wasn’t sure if he should just walk away, but something made him raise an eyebrow skeptically. He had no idea what was going on.

“Do we know each other?” he asked, genuinely considering the possibility.

He couldn’t recall this man from anywhere, which, given his memory, pretty much ruled out the idea.

“No,” the man replied briefly but confidently, still not breaking eye contact. After a moment, he added, “But I know your friend. I know her well.”

Reid stood still for a moment, embarrassingly slow to realize which friend the man was referring to. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that it struck him—this guy had likely been watching their game for a while and was talking about her. Before Spencer could say anything, the man continued.

“Actually, I used to date her. And listen, I’ve got some advice for you. Just give up on her.”

Spencer blinked, trying to process if he’d misheard.

“Beg your pardon...”

“I’m serious, man. Not because I’m jealous or anything like that,” he quickly clarified, raising both hands as if to declare his sincerity. “It’s just simple, you know, guy solidarity. Don’t waste your time.”

He was struck by a strange feeling that his conversation partner had some mistaken idea about their relationship. Besides, even though the man had clarified that he wasn’t jealous, he sure sounded like a jealous ex. Spencer knew he should just laugh it off and walk away. After all, he wasn’t dating her, didn’t intend to, and whatever the guy had to say about her shouldn’t matter. Yet, his legs refused to simply walk away.

Some curiosity, one he couldn’t shake off, took hold of him.

“What do you mean?” he asked hesitantly.

A slight smirk appeared on the man’s face as he noticed he had Spencer’s attention.

“I get that you might see something in her. She’s pretty, you have to give her that. At first, even...kind of charming in her arrogance. But once you get to know her...it’s a strong word, but you need to know, she’s fucking insane.”

The language seemed to twist strangely in his mouth.

“That doesn’t tell me much,” he replied dryly. “I mean, anyone could mean something different by saying fucking insane.”

The man scoffed with a bit of contempt. Spencer was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable with the whole conversation.

“Okay, you’re probably going to deny it and defend her because you like her, I’ve been there, I get it.”

Because I like her? He almost denied it but stopped himself, letting the man continue.

“She’s just insufferable in the long run. She acts like she knows everything, gives orders, always has to have the last damn word. And you know, at first, you think she’s just playing that part. And then she’ll start acting, well, you know…”

Spencer felt the urge to laugh.

“Submissive?” he suggested, the missing word that seemed to want to spill from the man’s mouth.

“Normally. Just normally.”

Something started to smell between them. A distinctive scent. Wounded male ego.

That alone was enough for Spencer to know not to take this conversation seriously. That alone was enough for him to know he could end this conversation whenever he wanted. But before he could take a single step away, he thought about the entire evening he'd spent with her. Everything, from the first message he’d received while still at his apartment.

He counted how many times during their meeting he’d just laughed, having more fun than he’d had in a while. In some unclear way, he felt he owed her that.

“Let me sum this up,” Spencer began, gesturing with his hand and never breaking eye contact with the man. “Because this, in its way, is strange to me. Funny, even, when you think about it.”

The man furrowed his brow, listening. Spencer remained unfazed as he continued.

“First, you met a commanding, confident, and, okay, a little cheeky woman. That didn’t scare you off, though, and you decided you wanted to start a relationship with her. And when it happened, you were surprised she was commanding and cheeky? You know, she doesn’t pretend she’s not like that. You knew what you were getting into.”

"Fine, you know what, this doesn’t make sense," the man sighed. "Do whatever you want. Just remember, I warned you. One day, you’ll be grateful for this."

"Maybe you're right," Spencer admitted, nodding slowly. "It doesn’t make sense."

The man gave him one last look before scoffing and walking away. Reid was left in the bathroom alone, actually reflecting for a moment on the entire conversation. He didn’t think he should have been a part of it at all. The guy must’ve assumed he was interested, or that they were dating. He didn’t have any insight into what their relationship really looked like. In any case, Spencer imagined what it would be like if another guy were in his place. Her actual date. I wonder if a conversation like that would make him turn away, push him away entirely.

After a moment, he concluded that no, it probably wouldn't have. Assuming, of course, that the other guy wasn’t a complete idiot, blindly believing the words of a hurt, maybe even a little jealous ex.

Though, maybe he couldn’t really judge from his position. The position of someone who wasn’t planning on dating her, and who wasn’t interested in her in that way.

He thought for a moment about whether he should tell her about the conversation. He decided against it, not wanting to spoil or ruin the good mood of their evening. Instead, he straightened his hair and, completely unfazed by what he'd just heard, returned to the pool table where she was leaning, clearly growing impatient with his prolonged absence.

"Finally," she hissed at the sight of him. She almost shoved the cue stick into his hand, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "I thought you were trying to escape me. The thought of another loss scared you, huh?"

He paused for a moment, staring at her face—the slightly parted lips, the warm bar light reflecting in her eyes, and the familiar, confident gleam. For a brief moment, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—what did she even see in that guy?

But almost immediately, he dismissed it, considering it none of his business, and took the cue stick from her, ready to start the next game.

#diva reader ♱#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spence reid #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n

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moonsaver · 1 year ago

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Ohhgghuhohoho..... wait wait i dont have the entirety of aventurine's backstory accurately but imagine. Just imagine!!

Imagine coming across him while he was still "enslaved" (technically he still is, to the IPC but lets ignore that), unkept hair, shackles binding his hands, tattered clothing and so on.

You're just a passerby, someone who was minding their business when you see him. You do your best to help him, offering your jacket because his skin is freezing cold, giving him some food, trying to hide him from whoever's looking out for him, to treat him just once.

Sneaking him back to your home so you can sit him down peacefully on a warm sofa and treat his wounds so carefully, asking him painful details in such a soft, caring voice that he could almost cry, wiping away the dirt next his wounds because he won't let you see his face or move the hair out of his eyes, flinching but never once complaining about the pain when you disinfect his wounds with alcohol.

Imagine years, maybe even a good decade after he's become the illustrious senior manager of the IPC strategic department, who regrets never actually asking your name, who regrets not taking a closer look at your face, who only remembers your voice when he goes to sleep. He dreams, dreams, and dreams of that moment you cared for him for so long that it grows heavy in his chest.

And when he does find you, he's delighted. That's what he's supposed to feel at least. But you don't recognize him. And he can't blame you. You'd have never known you took in a Sigonian to care for at some point. But its alright, he knows just what to do.

Pulling a few taut strings is enough to leave you in a vulnerable spot – maybe one of your closer relatives went into debt and need your help? Maybe you're the one who's gone into debt? It won't take too long digging up incriminating details about you; where you work, your friends, your hobbies.. Or perhaps he should just show up to your little box of a house again, and repay your generosity directly? That memory of you in the past weighs heavy in his chest, but the now you weighs his heart heavier. You don't recognize him, but once you're in the palm of his hands, he'll make sure you never forget.

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thatbugkidd · 7 months ago

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GOAT!CYN REF AND NOTES LETS GO

This bitch gets 3 parts bc I hate myself (her design changes 3 times throughout the story- technically more)

• no horns

• unfortunately the Cyn we get to explore the least of-

• made a deal with Absolute Salvation in order to avoid death. Unaware of consequences and lives in the mansion somewhat peacefully for several months

• starts seeing "hallucinations" and hearing voices of the demon, reminding her of the deal they made, that she has a debt to pay.

• too scared to tell anyone about it. Fearing she wouldn't be believed or would be discarded again

• slowly starts succumbing to the influence, talking to herself, not sleeping, muscle spasms, more difficulty with motor skills than usual

• at this point, with essentially no control over herself, she has begun roping the others (Nate, Jane, and Valerie) under the same influence with a series of ritualistic offerings and seances without their knowings.

• eventually fully completes the ritual right before the Gala, summoning the actual entity to become its vessel. Things only go downhill from here for a bit-

• Possessed by Absolute Salvation

• BIG OL HORNSSS

• Struggles to walk due to heels not being made for her anatomy (and already struggling motor skills) uses tentacles to help brace and balance herself

• Jagged and rough teeth

• Can shapeshift into someone if they consume the blood or flesh of them. Applies to all living organisms

• can duplicate body parts (including borrowed parts) and contort body in very unnatural and painful ways

• can shadow-shift (basically melting into the shadows, and can reappear in any surrounding shadow. The salvation equivalent of cynessa straight up teleporting in the show)

• explores a lot more of the manipulative and abusive tendencies of the AS we never got to see in the show. Still goofy but we see much more evil from her

• It actually retains much of Cyn's personality as it studied and adopted her behavior while it was dormant in the mansion

• the real Cyn is trapped in her own mindscape, enduring years of torture and abuse from the AS while she has no control over her body. She can see what is happening through her eyes, but it often becomes hazy and difficult to keep up with things over the years. Its easier to ignore it anyway

• No longer possessed by the malicious part of AS (though still retaining the abilities)

• has a scar just on the left side of her chest from being exorcised (stabbed with the "patch"/crucifix)

• either dresses like a schoolgirl or a 57 yr old man there is no in-between

• still needs to consume blood and flesh occasionally, as much as she hates it. Its like a bad craving that's unhealthy to suppress

• very malnourished at first due to the eating habits of the AS while in control of her body- takes a long time for her to gain an appetite back and stomach food without immediately throwing it up and heaving.

• she does get healthier eventually though!! Gains weight, her horns become darker and shinier (i need her to have something going for her ok)

• very isolated and defensive in the beginning while she's adjusting to everything.

• after MONTHS of recovering with a good support system, she does come back out of her shell. Much more timid at first after all of the initial aggressiveness, and slowly regains more of her old personality traits

• has lots of chronic pain and fatigue- usually comes in flare ups.

• has even more trouble walking than before. The first few months were the worst, while she refused help from anyone except Nate. Would constantly stumble, trip, and jerk around as she walked because of how badly her ankles and knees were damaged from the AS.

• eventually got in a better place and let others help her more- like physical therapy sessions but no one is licenced! She still struggles, walks with a limp and wears knee/ankle braces, but it's much more manageable than before.

• uses a crutch during bad flare ups or when walking for extended periods of time

• pining HARDDDD FOR UZIII even in the beginning when they didn't like each other lol

They were both just fearful and on edge around each other, and especially with Cyn assuming Uzi still hates her guts or wants to kill her, they tended to snap at each other from the tension. Things obviously ease up eventually though :3

Alright, this monstrosity of a post is long enough. I'll try to work on Uzi or Nate next! Theirs shouldn't be quite as long since this is mostly a very cyn focused au.

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months ago

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"Try some."

Nico wrinkles his nose. "It looks like plastic."

"And you look like someone who's getting on my last nerve." Will shakes the offending -- thing. At him. Nico leans back, refusing to let it touch him. "Oh -- it is not contagious, you goober!"

"It's gross!"

"You've never even tried it!"

"I can tell!"

"You're a priss!"

"You are a human trash can who ate a strawberry that fell on the floor last week!"

"Hey Nico. Quickly. Where do strawberries grow from."

"It is a different thing!"

"In your grand delusions, maybe."

Nico kicks Will in the shoulder, sending him sprawling. He is unfortunately a weird noodle and absorbs the impact easily, shifting so he's lying backwards on the bed, head upside-down over the edge, feet tapping on the wall. Nico pinches him in disgust, only Will catches his hand so it doesn't work. Nico huffs louder.

"For someone with as much of a sweet tooth as you, it is crazy that you have a candy superiority complex."

"Not everyone is addicted to Twizzlers."

"...I'm not addicted. I could stop any time."

Nico looks pointedly at the two empty -- family sized, he would like to add -- wrappers, and the third pack currently being worked through. If it was possible he'd make himself sick off it. Instead he lives in hubris. And shamelessness; he meets Nico's eyes and sends him an exaggerated wink.

(Which.)

(Because he cannot wink.)

(Is just this. Really endearing. Hard blink.)

(Gods, he is so stupid.)

(Nico hates him.)

"You're such a humiliating dweeb that being around you makes me less cool by proxy. Not addicted, he says."

Will shoves another seven -- seven. -- Twizzlers in his mouth. He does not bother to chew before speaking.

"I'm not!"

"You are in actual debt! To the entire Hermes cabin! For the rest of your life!" Nico takes a Twizzler, for the sole purpose of using it to emphasize his point, and also smack Will in the leg with it. "Do you know how hard that is? I have tried to gamble away your debt four times! I have not put a chunk into it!"

"Well, maybe you suck at gambling."

Nico's eye twitches. Will does not even pretend to keep his snickering to himself.

"I was stuck in a casino for seventy fucking years --"

"Damn, and you still can't play poker. Embarrassing."

"I CAN FUCKING --" Nico stops. He takes a deep breath. He stands, putting his book to the side, and does several deep breathing exercises. Will laughs until he cries, because he is a word Hazel made him swear not to say even in his own head.

"Your face," Will wheezes. There is a thump as he falls off the bed and crumples to the floor.

"Kill yourself," Nico says calmly. A muscle in his jaw jumps and he starts his exercises anew. "Better yet, let me."

Will blows a kiss at him. Nico mimes catching it and throwing it on the floor and stomping on it, which makes him genuinely gasp in offense, which is gratifying. Except there is enough hurt in the action that Nico panics a little and hurries to grab the kiss off the floor and brush off the dust and stuff it in his pocket. And then he realizes what he's doing, and that Will is full of shit and is going red with the effort of trying to hold back his giggling, and he goes so violently red himself his vision swims a little.

"That was very cute," Will manages, snickering.

"I am going to blow up this camp and everyone in it," Nico seethes, hotter technically than a red dwarf star.

Will swallows back his giggles. It doesn't work, exactly, and what happens instead is he tries very hard to keep his face pleasant and neutral, except every few seconds his shoulders shake and his chapped lips twitch and his blue eyes sparkle like playful frost. And he stands, and steps towards Nico, and Nico is frozen, and his heart hammers, and his palms, suddenly, get very very sweaty.

"I mean it," Will says, and the worst thing is that he really does sound sincere, even as he smiles teasingly. "It was very cute." He steps closer. What is left of Nico's rational brain leaks out of his ears and fizzles through the floorboards like acid. "You're very cute."

He has no shame. None. Surely it's his damned father's fault; Will gets like this, sometimes, determined and bold and affectionate like all the flailing gangliness that afflicts him every other day of his life disappears, cowed in the grandness of his affectionate determination. He steps closer, enough, and now he is close enough that Nico can hear him humming, can hear the rocking of his heels. Can smell the artificial strawberry on his breath, can almost taste the sweetness in the air between them.

His lips part.

He swallows, dry.

His palms are clammy, and he curls them into weak fists.

"Very cute," Will repeats, leaning closer. "I like how much you care about people even though you are embarrassed about it. Makes me think of a groundhog."

"You are such a weirdo," Nico says weakly, but there is no wit to it, because he cannot taste anything but the wanting behind his teeth, and cannot see anything but the huge pools of Will's sparkling eyes, and the quirk of his red-stained lips. "Genuinely, it's --"

"Hey."

Will ducks down. He's breathing, suddenly, milimeters from Nico's mouth, and Nico stops breathing at all.

"If I gave you some now, would you try it?"

"Yes," Nico says, small and strangled, because that would be the answer for anything Will asked him right now. "Yes, fine, you can --"

But Will does not produce a licorice rope from his pocket. He does not reach over and dart across the cabin to where the open bag lay, abandoned, on his bed, he does not tease out any of the strands curled around his fist. Instead, he -- drops them. And then he reaches his wide, open palms forward, and he --

Nico squeaks.

Will doesn't move, for a moment, lips still pressed to his, eyes open, head tilted, observing.

Nico's eyes flutter closed.

He feels Will's smile, against his lips. Feels the smugness in his warm hands, curled around his jaw, feels the sweet satisfaction sticking to his teeth.

They don't taste so bad after all, Twizzlers.

"Told you," Will murmurs. "See, they're good, they're --"

Nico backs him against the wall, and kisses him until they candy taste is gone from his tongue.

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ms-demeanor · 3 months ago

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Long story short: as awful as our technical debt is from the service side of the business, our own internal business documentation is worse.

We literally can't tell if we're profitable.

Some "all you can eat" contracts were built out ten years ago and the hours have tripled without us changing what we charge (and not like "we gave you these rates planning on doing 2 hours a month but we're doing 6 hours a month" like "we gave you these rates estimating 50 hours a month and we're giving you 150 hours a month."

Our ticketing system was such a mess that we couldn't do an internal analysis of which clients utilize most of our time. To see what type of work takes up most of our time, you can't run a report because we didn't standardize work types until last week. "Desktop repair" could have been categorized under eight different work types. We charge for service bundles but we don't know how much the bundles are costing us and we don't have a mechanism for adjusting what we charge based on use.

This is, again, an issue of being three companies in a trenchcoat. The individual small business owners didn't track profit and revenue and price and cost very well, and rather than cleaning up messy systems as acquired companies were onboarded, the approach was to exactly match the acquired client contracts under the existing billing models.

And my grandboss is going "this is a disaster, it's been three years, why didn't anybody fix this earlier?" and I'm going "bitch you live like this?" and my direct manager is going "it's fine, it'll keep working, we don't have time to look at it because we've got to work on customer satisfaction metrics!"

(I've been at the company eight months and have had access to the contracts only since February, grandboss has been at the company five months, direct supervisor has been at the company over a decade - the bad contracts were devised 18 years ago, and when the first company was acquired three years ago he set up the current modifications of those contracts with the new owner, then ported over the contracts from each subsequent acquired company to match the first company's contract structure)

This place is less abusive than Gary was, but they make him look competent.

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zerosbubble · 3 months ago

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The Rookie Prank War!

Tim Bradford x Rookie!reader [PLATONIC] — Ongoing series: Like Father, like Rookie.

A/N: Okay, so, I may have had a mini writer’s block—but! Hopefully this lengthy oneshot makes up for it. 😭

Summary: You start a (mostly) harmless prank war with one of the other rookies. Tim doesn’t care—until you drag him into it. Now he’s torn between helping you win and making sure you don’t get fired.

Pranks weren’t technically against department policy.. but that didn’t mean Tim Bradford approved of them.

Tim Bradford didn’t play games.

He didn’t do pranks. He didn’t do childish antics.

He especially didn’t do rookie nonsense.

For the first two weeks of your ongoing prank war with Aaron, Tim had stayed blissfully uninvolved. Sure, he rolled his eyes when he caught wind of your antics, and yeah, he warned you at least three times that you were playing a “dangerous game.”

But he had other things to worry about, like actual police work and making sure you didn’t get yourself killed.

So long as you weren’t embarrassing him, he didn’t care.

Yet here he was.

Stuck in the middle of a full-blown prank war between his own rookie and Aaron Thorsen.

And it was entirely your fault.

It all started when you strolled into roll call one morning looking suspiciously innocent.

Tim, unfortunately, knew you well enough by now to recognize that nothing good ever came from that expression.

He barely glanced up from his clipboard before sighing.

“Kid.”

You blinked at him, wide-eyed, the very picture of fake innocence. “Yes, sir?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“Why do you always assume I did something?”

Across the room, Lucy snorted, barely looking up from her coffee. “Because you always do something.”

Before you could fire back, the doors burst open like a dramatic courtroom scene.

Aaron stormed in, and for a second, you thought he might actually combust from sheer rage. His usually pristine uniform was slightly disheveled, his patrol belt slightly askew, as if he had been fighting for his life.

He pointed an accusing finger at the room.

“Okay, which one of you messed with my shop?!”

You barely bit back a grin. “What happened, Thorsen?”

Aaron glared, breathing deeply like a man trying to suppress a violent outburst.

“…Every time I hit the brakes,” he gritted out, “my car starts blasting ‘Barbie Girl.’”

Silence.

For a full three seconds, the briefing room held its breath.

Then—

Chaos.

Angela doubled over, wheezing, gripping the table for support. Meanwhile, Nyla had to physically turn away to wipe the tears forming in her eyes.

Lucy? Clapped.

She actually clapped.

Tim sighed loudly, rubbing his temples like he was regretting every decision that led him to this moment.

Aaron threw his hands up. “Do you think this is funny?!”

Angela barely choked out, “I—I just—” She gasped for air between cackles. “It fits your whole vibe, man.”

“My vibe?!”

Nyla, still wiping away laughter tears, nodded seriously. “Yeah. Rich kid turned cop? Total Ken energy.”

Lucy lost it at that. “Oh my god, Thorsen’s a Ken!”

The laughter doubled.

Even Grey—Grey, the literal sergeant who had the patience of a saint (and zero tolerance for rookie nonsense), tilted his head like he was mildly impressed before exhaling sharply, looking away like he was suppressing a smirk.

Aaron, however, looked seconds away from committing a felony.

Tim, watching all of this unfold, finally turned to you, exasperated.

“You’re lucky Grey isn’t in the mood to suspend anyone today,” he muttered.

You beamed, utterly unbothered. “That means I win this round, right?”

Aaron’s glare deepened.

“Oh, you’re so going down.”

And just like that—

The war escalated.

Tim just sighed deeply, wondering what debt he had left to pay that had led to him being responsible for you.

By the next day, you knew you were in trouble.

Aaron had resources.

Specifically? Money.

Which meant he had somehow managed to hire a professional prankster to help him.

You came back from patrol to find everything in your locker had been individually gift-wrapped.

Every. Single. Item.

Socks? Wrapped. Notebooks? Wrapped. Your taser? Wrapped, complete with a bow.

The squad was losing their minds.

Tim, walking past, barely spared it a glance. “That’s what you get, kid.”

You turned to him, desperate, your hands clasped together as if you were praying for a miracle, “Sir, I need your help.” you whined.

Tim scoffed, turning on his heel to face you with a stern look, one that screamed ‘I don’t have time to play around.’ “Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You leaned in. “Come on. You hate losing.” You argued.

“I’m not in the game.”

You cheekily smirked as if you were in on a joke that he had no knowledge of, “Not yet.” You cooed with a knowing look.

Tim eyed you warily, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You just grinned, giving him a firm pat on the back, “You’re already on my team, sir.” You exclaimed, already daydreaming of all the possibilities of how this prank war was going to end.

Tim frowned. Hard. “Kid, no, I’m not—”

“You gave me a direct order to win.” You said, raising a brow.

Tim blinked, staring. “I did not—”

“Ohhh, but you did.” You tapped your chin, feigning deep thought. “Just this morning, you said—what was it? Oh! ‘Don’t let him get away with that, kid.’”

Tim groaned, already regretting every decision that led to him being stuck with you. “That wasn’t—”

“Sounds like encouragement to me,” Lucy cut in as she walked by, smirking.

Angela who’d been watching this whole ordeal unfold with arms crossed, grinned like this was the most entertaining shit she’s seen all day, “Oh yeah. That’s definitely involvement.”

Wesley, who wasn’t even part of the department but just happened to be visiting Angela, sipped his coffee and muttered, “That would hold up in court.” Adding his very valuable two cents in.

The whole squad was watching now, entertained as hell.

Nyla leaned back in her chair, nodding like she was considering the argument, “You do hate losing, Tim.” Gaining a nod of agreement from Nolan who’d just come back from returning war bags.

Tim turned to her. “Not the point.”

“Sounds exactly like the point,” Nyla countered.

Tim exhaled sharply, looking toward Grey who was strolling past like maybe—just maybe—he’d be saved.

Grey just raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to stop walking, or taking the risk of hearing things he didn’t wanna hear, “I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t make my life harder.” He casually said, already disappearing into his office.

Tim groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine.” He pointed directly at you. “But if I help you, it’s only to make sure you don’t get fired.”

You beamed. “That’s a win in my book.”

Tim muttered something under his breath—probably regrets and prayers—but you didn’t care.

Because Tim Bradford was now on your side.

And that meant?

Aaron didn’t stand a chance.

The next morning, Aaron strolled into the locker room, yawning as he reached for his locker.

He unlatched it—

And immediately stumbled back as a dozen overstuffed balloons burst out, each one exploding mid-air and showering him in a relentless, ungodly amount of glitter.

It got everywhere.

His uniform. His hair. His soul.

Aaron froze, hands outstretched in horror as the last bits of glitter floated gently onto his already-ruined uniform.

The room?

Absolutely lost it.

Angela gasped, eyes wide. “No. Freaking. Way.”

Nyla leaned against the lockers, impressed. “Okay, I gotta ask—how did you even set that up?”

You shrugged, innocence personified. “Trade secret.”

Lucy wiped away actual tears. “It’s so evil.”

Wesley, who somehow kept getting roped into this nonsense, just sipped his coffee and muttered, “That’s a felony in some states.”

Tim, standing beside you, pinched the bridge of his nose like a man deeply regretting his life choices.

“Don’t get cocky, kid,” he muttered.

Aaron, still frozen, wiped a slow, agonized hand down his glitter-covered sleeve.

Then, very carefully, very deliberately, he turned his deadliest glare on you.

“You,” he said, voice deadly calm, “are so. Dead.”

You?

You just smiled.

Because this?

This was only the beginning.

From that point on, it was war.

Aaron, never one to back down from a challenge, retaliated by slipping red food coloring into your hand sanitiser.

You stared at your hands in horror—bright pink, you raised your hands in the air like you’d been caught in a crime scene. “What the fuck?!”

Aaron, smug as ever, gave a short laugh. “I thought it would be a nice touch.”

Tim, ever the reluctant mentor, simply sighed deeply from his desk. “Here,” he muttered, tossing a pack of tactical gloves your way. “Wear these until it fades.”

You, still sulking about getting caught up in Aaron’s prank, slipped the gloves on. “You’re the best, sir.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples like he was at peak regret already. “I regret everything,” he mumbled, half to himself.

But you weren’t done yet. Oh no, this was only getting started.

The next move? You reprogrammed Aaron’s entire shop GPS to only speak in Tim’s voice.

You watched with barely-contained glee as Aaron got into his shop, fully unaware of what awaited him.

It didn’t take long for the magic to happen.

A few miles into his patrol, Aaron pressed the GPS button.

The voice crackled to life, Tim’s voice, smooth as ever.

“In 500 feet, make a U-turn, rookie. And try not to embarrass yourself.”

The entire squad, who had been waiting outside, erupted.

Angela gasped, barely holding her coffee. “Oh my god,” she half-laughed, half-choked on her drink.

Nyla actually slapped her knee. “You are a genius.”

Grey, who normally maintained a wall of composure, actually snickered and cleared his throat, turning to Tim. “You sure you didn’t record those lines yourself?”

Tim was staring at you, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and something that could’ve been admiration.

“Kid.”

You beamed, leaning against the counter casually. “Yes, sir?”

Tim’s brow furrowed as he gestured vaguely toward the car. “Where the hell did you get a recording of my voice?”

You just grinned and leaned back, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “That’s a trade secret too.”

Aaron, furious, slammed the car door, his face flushed red, glaring at you through the windows. But you didn’t even flinch.

Because you knew…

You’d won again.

By the end of the week, Aaron was running out of ideas.

But you?

You were winning.

Each day, you upped the ante, pushing the limits of what could be considered acceptable behavior in the workplace.

You’d switched his shop keys for ones that didn’t fit. You’d swapped out his patrol jacket for one covered in pink rhinestones. You’d even clipped a “kick me” sign to his back when he wasn’t looking.

Aaron’s frustration was at an all-time high, but you were still going strong.

Unfortunately, Tim?

He was growing more and more exasperated.

“If you get fired,” he muttered as you and Aaron stared each other down across the room, “I’m not writing your recommendation letter.”

You grinned, unphased. “I would never get fired, sir.”

Tim glared. “You put silly string in Aaron’s patrol air vents.”

You paused, looking innocently at him. “…Okay, fair, but—”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “I helped you. I am complicit.”

You grinned wider. “That means you’re an accessory.”

Tim groaned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I hate you.”

Angela, who had been watching this whole thing unfold with an amused smirk, chimed in. “No, you don’t.”

Tim turned to her, exasperated beyond belief. “They’re worse than Lucy.”

Lucy, who had been silently enjoying the drama from her corner, gasped in mock outrage. “Hey!”

Tim pointed directly at you, almost accusingly. “This is your fault. You encouraged them.”

Lucy just grinned that mischievous grin she always wore when chaos was afoot. “I am so proud.”

You raised an eyebrow. “See? Lucy gets it.”

Tim rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead as though he were moments away from walking out the door and never looking back.

“I really regret this,” Tim muttered under his breath.

But no one was listening—because you were too busy preparing your next move.

The prank war had reached its peak.

Aaron was tired. You were unstoppable.

But it wasn’t until Grey finally had enough that everything came to a grinding halt.

“If I see one more prank,” Grey called out from his office, voice like a thunderclap that cut through the chatter, “you’re all pulling double shifts.”

The squad froze.

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over everyone. No one dared to speak. You glanced at Aaron, who shot you a murderous look, but both of you knew—this was it.

The war was over.

You stood up, offering your hand to Aaron with all the grace of a seasoned negotiator.

“Truce?”

Aaron sighed, rubbing his temples as though trying to physically push the frustration out of his head. But then, after a beat, he reluctantly extended his hand.

“Truce.”

And just like that, the tension dissolved.

But not without Tim watching from the sidelines, his expression ageing five years in a matter of seconds. You could practically hear him thinking, What did I get myself into?

The squad, still thoroughly entertained by the spectacle of the entire week, immediately pulled out their phones and gathered together in front of Aaron’s locker, now completely covered in glitter, to take a group picture.

Angela, still laughing, wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “This is definitely going on the wall in the break room.”

Nyla, wiping tears from her eyes, nodded. “I’ll print out a copy, frame it, and put it next to Grey’s desk. For posterity.”

Grey, who had been leaning against the doorframe, gave a low grunt of disapproval but didn’t stop them. “You’re all ridiculous.”

But even he couldn’t help but smirk.

And Tim?

Tim stood a little farther away, arms crossed and looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was trying to hide the fact that, despite everything—the pranks, the chaos, the countless headaches—he was proud.

He refused to admit it, of course. Not in front of anyone.

But watching you outsmart Aaron every step of the way? Watching you win in ways he never thought possible?

Yeah.

He was definitely proud.

taglist: @its-ares @nevereclipse @chezze-its @mcckunty

#platonic #the rookie #fluff #found family #oneshot #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #angela lopez #wade grey #wesley #lucy chen

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penguwastaken · 1 year ago

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The Danganronpa books are all really good and here's why you should read them.

Danganronpa Zero is a really good origin story that explores junko's character and the a lot of the shady stuff with Hope's Peak along with introducing a lot of things that would become staples of the series like Izuru Kamukura and the reserve course. It's also consistently referenced all throughout the series.

Danganronpa Zero revamped fan translation

Danganronpa Kirigiri is not only a great origin story for Kyoko, it also has plenty of great new characters, interesting mysteries, and amazing themes. The author would even go on to work on Danganronpa v3 and create all the crazy murder methods in that game. In my personal opinion this is probably the best written entry in the entire series.

Danganronpa Kirigiri fan translation

Danganronpa IF is not only a fun what if story but also a great character study of Mukuro who now finally understands her sister and recontextualizes a lot of things, it's also just really fun in general.

You can read Danganronpa IF after beating Danganronpa 2

Makoto Naegi Secret File is a short but entertaining story about the events that led Makoto to becoming a student at Hope's Peak. It adds some neat context and some interesting foreshadowing, plus it's just really weird lol.

Makoto Naegi Secret File fan translation

Not my favorite (least favorite actually) but Danganronpa Togami is an absolutely insane read with one of the most baffling plot twists in the series. Only the most curious of souls should read this.

Danganronpa Togami volume 1 fan translation Danganronpa Togami volume 2 extended summary Danganronpa Togami volume 3 extended summary Danganronpa Togami ongoing fan translation of all volumes

Ultra Despair Hagakure is just a generally really funny story about Yasuhiro in Towa City where he bumps into a lot of crazy people while trying to get money to pay his debts, it's silly and fun. Don't expect Shakespeare, it's just a fun time.

You can read Ultra Despair Hagakure after beating Danganronpa Another Episode

Danganronpa 1-2 Beautiful Days is a collection of non-canon stories similar to the anthology comics, overall it's just really neat but the story "Nanami the Adventurer" absolutely is a must read for perfectly explaining what makes Danganronpa 2's cast great.

Danganronpa 1-2 Beautiful Days fan translation

Not technically a novel but Danganronpa Gaiden is a fun thriller with cool characters and interesting world building, it has some issues but it's definitely worth checking out.

Danganronpa Gaiden Killer Killer scanslation

Also not technically a novel but Kirigiriso is a really weird but interesting crossover story with Danganronpa and Otogiriso about kyoko discovering a plant infested mansion. If you enjoyed Danganronpa Kirigiri or Kyoko as a character in general, you might get some enjoyment out of this

Kirigirisou fan translation

That's the end of the post, I hope I managed to convince you to check out at least one of these stories. All of them have been linked in this post so hopefully they should be very accessible.

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azzayofchaos · 11 months ago

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@embers--and--ashes

Here's that Convex lore you were curious about...

Thanks to @queseresere again for some bits a pieces!

So.. The Vex Problem?

While rumors of the mysterious Convex are floating around, and Skizz has become quite suspicious of what exactly this mysterious group entails-- he'll soon learn it's not quite as strange or occult as he first thought!

The Convex is essentially one of those super secret Gentlemen's clubs that rich people like... they play golf on the weekends.

Vex are demonic, but they're vermin, easily summonable nuisances and unfortunately their clubhouse has an infestation. Not all that surprising considering how much of a bother Scar tends to be to the PET Demons.

Scar Goodfellow:

The captain of Hermiton's police force, and an all around shady guy.

He tends to come off as a bit incompetent, even a buffoon, but he's much sharper than most people give him credit for. He catches onto the nature of the disappearances and advises Cleo to lend a occult-knowledged hand in the ensuing investigation.

Grian is under a debt to Scar for the duration of Scar's human lifespan since 'the incident' and Scar can pretty much summon him at will --Scar mostly makes him prank people-- though Grian technically works under Cub at the Permit Office as Cub is just about the only person Grian listens to.

"Cub":

Manager of the Permit Office

He probably used shady means to help put Scar in a position of Power

knows a thing or two about the occult but he is genuinely just a guy...

or like, maybe 0.1% primordial, either way he terrorizes Grian a bit.

He and Scar have that weird Bromance...

More Permit Office stuff:

Cub is the only person who doesn’t seem to mind Grian, Grian definitely minds Cub.

Grian only willingly listens to, and is mortally terrified of Cub. He swears Cub is not human, but something else.

The permit office is Grian’s domain, and has thusly become infused with backrooms vibes. It has that uncanny atmosphere.

Cub refuses to acknowledge that anything is wrong with the office or his one(1) employee. “Others have passed through, and I’m happy to hire, but they never end up staying for long. I mean, I get it man. The work is dismally boring and the pay isn’t great. Might be nice to get a change of pace, though" "It’s alright though, not like there’s much more work than what Grian and I can handle. We make do”.

(Everyone in town will tell you just to straight email the permit office higher ups rather than bother with the office at all… honestly, just skip the permit, this is a lawless town…)

The permit office is definitely maybe a front for something, Cub knows what though. (It's illegal fireworks 0_0).

#my asks #my art #MailDemon AU #hermitcraft #gtwscar #cubfan135 #grian #<discussed but not depicted #i do have an agenda here #mightaswell commit to the bit #grub #cubscarian #your welcome

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kamiversee · 1 year ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 41 || The Cute Bartender

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, very cute fluff, & teasing.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.6k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR QUESTION REMAINS unanswered for quite some time. To constantly weigh out your options of who would be a better lover for you is going to take time.

But, as of right now, even if you wanted to choose Gojo over Choso, he's already made it clear he's not allowing that. He doesn't think he's good for you and, in case you forgot, you're technically supposed to hate him.

That being said, your choice is already made for you.

But none of that is important right now. You were allowed a break until the semester began again but, since your university's winter break was a span of two, almost three months, you were honestly ready to finish the list by late January.

Even though you said you were taking a break from the men, you still kept in contact with them. You'd text Choso on some days but he'd often scold you about how you wanted a break, which only made you want to talk to him more.

Then, you even had your phone calls with Gojo which consisted of him doing the same damn thing-- pestering you by saying 'As much as I love listening to you talk, sweets, you're supposed to be taking a break from me' which, was just as sweet as the messages Choso would send.

Yeah, you were definitely falling for both of them in your own way and nothing could stop that. Even so, you were ready to get back to the list.

There was one name left. You couldn't believe it. As of now, you were laid out on your bed, your delicate fingers curled around a pen as you went down the list of yours. Reading over each name reminded you of your experiences with them, whether it was good or bad, and you were surprised you finally made it this far.

At one point, you doubted you could even do this. So many lessons have been learned, so many personalities and so many situations have been experienced. It's almost, emphasis on almost, beautiful when you think back on it.

To go from a broke and regular college student to one whose life is filled with drama, good (for the most part) sex, and men who've somehow managed to fall for you. It's the kinda thing you never imagined for yourself.

Just one semester ago, you were worried about even landing a job and now look at you; you've managed the money from Gojo better than ever so you're truly set for quite some time.

With a sigh, you place the pen down beside your journal and trace your fingers over the final name; Nanami Kento. Once you sleep with him it's over. It's almost bittersweet to think about.

As you stare at your journal, you think you have a plan for it once the list is complete. A plan that you've talked to Gojo about and he's agreed to-- the two of you are going to burn the list.

Neither of you want any physical evidence of it so you think burning it once it's complete will prove to be a nice way to say goodbye to the memories that come with the list. Nowhere in your text messages or his do you two discuss the list explicitly, just in case someone were ever to go through your devices, and the only time it's been talked about aside from in person is over phone calls.

But, you're not worrying about that getting out. Someone would have to dig really deep to find the recordings of you and Gojo's phone calls. Like, to the police deep to find them. Or hacking your cell. But, you have no reason to worry about that, right? Gojo said he's not involved in anything illegal and you trust him (to some extent).

So again, it's bittersweet to think about this list finally coming to an end. It was like a game you had to play and knowing that the end credits were about to roll soon just made you feel odd inside. Yeah, you wanted it to end but as it was actually happening, it was like leaving a chapter of your life behind.

After all, you'll never be able to undo what's been done. You can't go back and change who you've slept with or how.

So, with that final little thought, you sigh again and then shut your journal. Getting up to put it away in its locked drawer compartment, you wonder what it'll be like to finally meet Nanami.

You have a good feeling about him.

And no, not one of those good feelings that result in disaster but, an actual good feeling. Something about the thought of this tall, blonde, and sexy man whose facial expression holds a stupidly attractive seriousness at all times just makes you feel calm.

You feel like you're going to be dealing with someone so mature that it'll ease your mind, kind of like how your mind was at ease when you first met Choso.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

And you had every right to be in good spirits about meeting Nanami because the man did, in fact, turn out to be one of the best and lightest experiences for you.

Despite how difficult he may seem, Nanami is just a man you couldn't catch at the right time. That was the only reason why you ever considered him to be 'hard' to seduce. And no, it's not some magical effect you had that made your efforts work, it was this genuine and raw connection that formed when you met him.

It was surely a night to be remembered.

A simple pair of black heels lightly clacked against the floor as you walked with your head held high into that damned nightclub-- the same nightclub in which you couldn't run into Nanami at the right time for the longest. This night was different though, as you had arrived before him for once.

It wasn't planned or anything but, your arrival to the building was before he'd gotten there. The dress you wore to accompany the heels on your feet was just as simple and was shaded in the same color; black. It was moderately tight-fitting and hugged your body just right.

Unlike some of your past dresses, it didn't make you feel like you were going all out and you thought you blended in nicely with everyone else that was there. Around your neck was that same necklace Gojo gifted to you on Christmas as you never really had the heart to leave home without it on.

Your excuse for wearing it all the time was because it was really pretty. It had nothing to do with Gojo of course. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself anyway.

Making your way to the bar, you took a seat in an area you knew Nanami to typically sit at and then you scouted the area for either him or the cute brown-haired friend he's always with. Finding nothing and no one, you sigh and decide to order a drink.

After which, you gave yourself thirty minutes before you'd leave and try again in another two weeks. You didn't even tell Gojo you were starting back up on the list yet so it's not like there was any pressure for you to seduce Nanami tonight, maybe that's what made everything so different.

Your nails tapped across the bar as you waited and at some point, you even made conversation with the cheeky bartender. The thing about this bartender is that you've seen him talk to Nanami plenty of times and you're pretty sure they're friends.

He had this really cute face and pretty brown eyes that made you feel safe in a strange way. Every time you see him he's got this beanie on top of his head and his clothes are always baggy, something you saw his manager scold him about a few times at one point.

Either way, today was your first time actually talking to him and you learn that his name is Ino Takuma and that he actually recognizes you, having paid attention to the few times you've been there.

"Are you waiting on someone, beautiful?" Ino had questioned you.

Oh yeah, and he's also been complimenting you nonstop from the moment you two began talking. It's in a friendly way, you think. It doesn't seem like he's flirting, just being kind, which you like.

You smiled at the man, "Is it that obvious?"

He makes this silly face in thought and you note how expressive he is. "Hmmmm, I mean for me, yeah. But that's only because I see you come here around the same time every two weeks."

"Yeah?" You meet his eyes with a smile on your face and he holds the eye contact for at least five seconds before he looks away. He's adorable. "So, you've really been paying attention to me all this time?" You ask before going to take another sip of your preferred drink of the night.

Ino laughs and the sound is so joyful it almost heals something in you. "I mean, nooo..." He drags out, smiling through his words before he shrugs, "I pay attention to everyone. And plus, how could I forget a pretty face like yours?"

You're still staring at him and you don't think you've ever paid attention to how much someone avoids eye contact before dealing with Choso. After that man, it's so obvious to you now when someone gets nervous to look you in the eye for too long.

"Is that a compliment, Ino?" You ask softly, the use of his name making his ears flush a cute shade of pink.

He clears his throat and wipes down a part of the nearby counter. There are not that many people at the bar tonight so that gave him the leisure to speak to you. "...Yeah," Ino replies, trying to focus on his small task instead of your eyes gazing at his face.

You hum. "Thank you," You say before moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you rest your elbow on the bar.

Ino finishes his little task and then places the cloth he used elsewhere, finally looking at you now that your eyes have gone elsewhere, "He'll be here soon, by the way."

You blink and your eyes flick up to Ino's face, confused by his words, "Who?"

He flashes that friendly smile at you, "Nanami."

You're not sure if you should pretend not to know who Nanami is or if you should ask how Ino knows you're waiting on the man. For now, you swallow, "Nanami?"

Ino moves his hand up and over his head a bit, "He's like this tall, blonde," The brown-haired male gestures toward his eyes, "Wears these funky glasses sometimes?"

You bat your eyelashes at him in confusion, "Okay... Why uh, why're you telling me he'll be here soon?"

"You know him, don't you?" Ino asks, his thin and well-kept brows furrowing a bit as he innocently tilts his head.

"I know of him, I suppose," You answer vaguely, "But, why'd you think I know him?"

His shoulders raised a bit, "Cause' he asked me about you."

You swallow the sudden nervous lump in your throat, "H-He asked about me? Why? When?"

Ino chuckles at the worry in your face. To him, it just seemed like you were nervous in a shy sort of way, "He just asked me if you came here any other times. Like, times when he's not here."

"Why?" You ask.

"I dunno'," Ino shrugs casually, "I think you caught his attention." He adds on with a little wink.

Your lips pull into a straight line, "I highly doubt that."

"Why? You're pretty," Ino compliments yet again.

"Thanks but I've seen Nanami enough times to know that I have not caught his attention. Trust me, I know how men operate when their attention is caught." You scoff as you glance over to the dance floor and watch some of the people there.

Ino doesn't seem to understand what exactly you mean by that and his brows furrow, "You caught my attention, and yet this is my first time talking to you." He points out.

Almost naturally, as if you'd grown accustomed to flirting, your gaze trails back over to the cute bartender and you smirk, words slipping out of your mouth without thought, "I've caught your attention? How so?" You ask, unintentionally adding a sultriness to your tone.

He gulps and his eyes avoid yours yet again, "I mean you are an attractive woman. S-So I just mean it in that you catch more people's eye than you think. A-And uh, y'know, not everyone's gonna approach you first because sometimes attractive people make others nervous..." He stammers out.

He's so ridiculously nervous and it's the cutest thing. You lift your head from your hand and cross your arms over the counter, leaning forward a little and your chest unknowingly growing more visible as you do so, "Am I making you nervous right now, Ino?" You whisper.

Okay, now you're purposefully teasing him.

He chuckles, kinda awkwardly, "N-No? Pfft... I'm not nervous. Y-You-," He clears his throat, "You're not making me nervous."

You raise but a single brow and keep your gaze on him, "You can't even look me in the eyes while we talk."

Ino suddenly looks at you, meeting your unwavering gaze and sweating a bit. "I'm lookin' at you now."

You stare long and hard, right into those brow irises of his and he tries to stare back but, he can't help but glance to the left or right for a split second before trying to keep his eyes on yours.

A slow and taunting smile spreads across your features, "Barely." You point out.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Whatever. I wasn't nervous I'm jus' not good with eye contact."

You tilt your head at him and narrow your eyes, "That's not true."

"Eh?" Ino's brows push together, "How are you gonna' tell me..." He says with a pout.

You giggle, "You manage eye contact with everyone else just fine."

He moves for a nearby empty glass someone's placed down, and glances at you as he does so, "So you've been paying attention to me, then?"

Of course, your eyes have hardly left his. It's fun teasing someone like this, "A bit, yeah."

Ino moves with the empty glass to place it with other dirty ones, humming a little nervously, "Oh..." As he does so. Then, you watch him pick up a clean glass and move to make a new drink right in front of you.

"Is that okay?" You murmur. Your voice has this purposeful flirtiness to it and it does not go unnoticed, "Am I allowed to pay attention to you, Ino?"

He gulps, "Course' you can."

Your eyes drop to the glass in his hands as he pours alcohol into it and you smirk, "Ino..."

His gaze flicks to your face for a moment, "H-Hm?"

"You're shaking." You point out.

Ino nearly fumbles the glass in his hand entirely and you watch him miss the cup for a moment, a bit of the liquid he'd been pouring trickling onto his hand and then the floor, "Shit," He curses.

You chuckle slightly at first, earning a little pouty glare from the man.

Then as he goes to clean up you hear him mumbling to you, "That's not funny..."

Your chuckling proceeds to elevate into genuine laughter, "Yeah it is," You snicker, "You're adorable, holy fuck."

Ino's face is a little red as your words hit his ears and he drops down to clean the mess on the floor. After which, he pops right back into your line of vision, seeing you still laughing at him and pouting yet again.

"I am not 'adorable'," Ino grumbles.

You giggle, "Yes, you are."

He shakes his head and sighs in this sassy kinda way, "Am' not."

"Are too," You argue.

His eyes meet yours and despite being embarrassed, he's got a little smile back on his face, "Nuh-uh."

You nod, “Yuh-huh."

Ino then rolls his eyes, still smiling, before he puts all the items he had in his hands down to the side. You then watch one hand drop down into his pocket before his phone is pulled out. Ino unlocks the device and then places it in front of you, sliding it closer to you with an empty contact slot on the screen.

"Put your number in here," He sighs, smoothly requesting your contact info like it's nothing.

You raise a brow, "Are you asking for it or are you demanding it?"

Those almost innocent brown eyes of his trail over to yours and he holds eye contact for a longer moment, "I'm asking. I like talking to you so, can I get your number?"

"Hmmm..." You hum playfully, purposefully taking your time to answer, "Is this to be friends or something more?"

He's still looking you in the eyes, "Uh, friends? I'm not sure I could even handle a woman like you."

You raise a brow.

"I mean that in a good way," Ino clarifies.

You shrug and move to enter your number in his phone, "Thanks. I was only asking that 'cause I uh..."

He tilts his head and watches your fingers tap across his screen, "...Have a lot going on?"

"Something like that, yeah." You answer before you finish adding your info and then slide the phone back to him.

He picks up his cell and pockets it before shrugging, "I see, well, if this makes you feel any better, I always try to get people's numbers after a nice conversation with them."

You frown playfully, "Aw, so I'm not special?"

Again, he's flustered, "W-Well, I mean you are b-but I just-"

"Ino," You snicker, "I'm just teasing you, relax."

He rolls his eyes again and sighs, "You're driving me crazy."

For one last time, you tilt your head and give him this flirtatious look, "Am I?"

Ino looks at your expression and gulps, "Yes ma'am."

Okay, is it weird that a part of you wishes he was on the list too? Holy shit is teasing this man fun. Even so, you've got enough men to worry about in your life and you don't need to add to that.

You chuckle and your expression returns to something more platonic, "Alright, I'll stop then."

"Please," Ino begs quietly in a joking manner.

That makes you laugh again and this time, he laughs along with you. Then, you watch him go back to preparing that drink from earlier and he does it flawlessly this time, his nerves calmed after you stop all your teasing.

As the drink is finished, you sip on yours and then a pleasant smell slithers into your nose. It's cologne, a strong but ridiculously pleasant scent filling your nostrils. You blink a few times as you take in what you're smelling and for a second, you wonder if it's coming from Ino because he got kinda close as the drink he prepared was placed next to you.

Your question is answered within the next second though because you hear a voice that accompanies the scent. A deep, sexy, and soothing voice that makes your posture straighten due to how surprisingly close to you it is.

Nothing more than a simple, "Thank you," Was voiced but even so, it was extremely attractive.

Then, you curiously turn to where the voice came from, which was to your right, and you're met with your last target; Nanami Kento.

There he was, in the flesh, right next to you. Like, literally sitting in the barstool next to yours. And that drink Ino made? Yeah, it was his. Your eyes were all over the man, drinking in his features shamelessly.

The man seemed to be more muscular than you thought he was as the blue button-up shirt he wore clung to his body so delectably. The sleeves were rolled up near his elbows and you could see how muscular his arm was, veins decorating his skin as they became visible from his elbow and down.

The shirt was just hugging his body and you couldn't help but stare. Then, for a moment you look down at his pants. He wore these khakis that were just as fucking tight as his shirt and you swear you didn't mean to look at his crotch but because of the way he sat it was like your eyes were there before you even rendered it.

God, his pants hugged his thighs and you just drink in the way his hips push up slightly as he adjusts the way he sits. Holy fuck, you had to force your eyes up because you swore you could see his manhood, or at least imagine what he's hiding beneath those clothes of his.

So, your eyes went back up to areas more respectable to look at, such as his shirt, which you noticed he had enough buttons undone to reveal a teasing amount of his chest. His collarbone was so sharp and defined and you could only imagine the rest of his body.

Then, you trailed up just a bit more to his neck, then his jaw which was sharp as fuck, to his defined cheekbones, and then his eyes-

And shit.

He was already looking at you.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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tricksh0t · 1 month ago

Text

★ cassie

☾ cassian andor x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ written for andor but not much star wars connection, so you can read it for diego luna (movie in the pic is dirty dancing havana nights)

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.61k

cw: dom reader, sub cassian, overstim, spit as lube, feminization, from behind, mentions of spanking (none), groping, lots of swearing, arguments, improper resolution of arguments

"Why are you so concerned with being pictured as "the girl"?" Cassian crossed his arms. He looked amused more than anything, right in front of your face.

"I'm not concerned with being the girl." You say pointedly, making him actually pay attention. "I'm concerned that this community thinks this way at all."

"Nurchi and Timm are not the community." Cassian waves it off, literally and figuratively, except the grand swipe of his hand only manages to annoy you in this situation. "Besides, they were only joking!"

"You can only excuse Nurchi so many times for only joking. How many times has he threatened you over your debts?" You've never liked the guy. He has zero sympathy in a community where everybody knows each other and their circumstances. "And before you get started on how it's technically valid, that guy is an asshole."

"Rightfully so–"

"Being a hater is one thing. Being bigoted is another."

"Fine, I'll be the girl." Cassian says, and he's already jerking around wildly, fixing his hair crudely with some spit, wearing his jacket hung just past his shoulders and pushing his pants down into low-rise. His collar and shoulder bones are exposed skinny and rightfully bony, and when your eyes trail down, his hips are exposed too, alongside a bit of the skin right above his dick, just enough to make it look like he isn't sporting a good length, as if he had nothing going down there except an enticing cunt. You'll be dammed if the subtle shift of everything doesn't make him look feminine and hot.

"What?"

"I'll be the girl." He repeats, shooting you a wide smile. It quickly turns into a fake innocent look, complete with doe eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

Despite the situation, your anger burns. He's making light of a serious situation. "What do you think you're doing, Cassian?"

"Cassie, now." He says, batting his eyelashes. "It's a lot more fitting, isn't it?"

"Fine, you want to be the girl?" At that, Cassian's mouth lifts into a shit-eating grin. It persists as you grab him by the hips and walk him backwards into the wall. "You'll be the fucking girl."

His grin just turns more and more satisfied the more you lean into him. You let him think he's won the argument just to see confidence inflate his ego. Sure hands grab at your hair as you press your nose against his. His eyes are already half-lidded.

"Then again, it doesn't matter what you are behind closed doors. No one will see it anyway." You grasp his wrists in one hand and he gasps. His eyes widen, but he do nothing but watch as you push them against the wall, then up and up until his body stretches just far enough out of comfort. "Is this what you expected?"

Cassian chokes out a pathetic, "N-No."

His doe eyes are real now, except striken with visible shock and... arousal. Ha.

"You have two options." When you press your lips against his ear, he moans purely at the feeling. You've mercy enough not to mention it. "Either you back down and we can go back to arguing without poking fun at each other, or you can be the fucking girl and I fuck you right against this wall."

"Yes." Cassian agrees, but like the infuriating man that he can be sometimes, he doesn't make it clear.

You grab hold of his chin, making him yelp. You ignore that too. "What's your name?"

"Ca-Cassie!" He cries, wrists struggling in your hold, but when you let them go, they fall lax at his sides without strength.

"Good. Turn around. Hands on the wall."

He obeys your words in a flash, no tripping or getting them wrong, only his back greets you when it's all said and done.

You press yourself against him, hand groping his ass in his pants. Cassian pushes himself into your hand, arching his back to do so. Whether instinct or not, it's dirty either way, seeking either way, and yearning for your touch.

"You're a dirty girl, aren't you, Cassie?" Your playing around with his ass makes him whimper. He avoids answering, to which you squeeze his asscheek. "I asked you something."

"Yes." He spares a look back, bites his lip. Oh, that was totally on purpose.

You press yourself fully against him when you take your hand away, and he certainly enjoys it, moaning at the feeling of your bulge against him; and he's got zero shame about it, eyes locked onto yours.

"Cassie, Cassie." You repeat with the disappointed click of your tongue. You take his bottom lip between your thumb and forefinger. Cassian's tongue darts out to lick at your thumb. "Whatever will I do with you, girl?"

It's more of a rhetorical question if anything, as you twist his tongue between your fingers the next moment. As you undo his pants and begin pushing them down, Cassian licks around your thumb and other fingers like a lollipop, leaving you only to wonder what that might look like around your cock. You've had it in real life of course, but not from Cassie.

With his pants down, you fight the urge to press yourself between the flesh of his cheeks and instead to press your thoroughly wet fingers into his hole. In goes one, then two, then another; taken not with protest, but with content sighs or bold, enticing moans. Cassian's pressed his forehead against the wall now, and you take the moment to appreciate his nape, so fragile and vulnerable.

It's almost romantic, the kisses and nips you press to the back of his neck, the slow press and scissor and circle of your fingers inside of him. It's entirely not as you'd meant it to be, but this is girl, and for preparation, you have to treat her nicely.

Whatever comes after that, though—it's a free game.

At the loss of your fingers and the clink of your buckle, Cassian looks back. You click your tongue, "Ah, ah, eyes forward. You'll take it like a good girl, no complaints, you understand?"

His mouth opens for an easy answer, but the feel of the tip of your cock catching against his rim, he gasps, "Fuck yeah."

You press your cock in one swift go, it's easy. He's all loose for you with dirty spit but also he really wants it.

There's no wait, no build up. You won't grant him the gentleness of that. He pissed you off and you're about to show it. Each thrust into him slaps your skin against his, loud, but you won't care, and you won't give him any rest either. It's hard and fast, mind numbing.

Trapped against the wall, one hand beside his head and another holding his hip in a bruising grip, he's completely at your mercy with nowhere to go. No forward or side to side, just backwards, pressing right up against your body and taking your cock, and that's exactly what he does.

He pushes back against you with each thrust, meeting you half-way. He's needy, can't even wait to get it, can't even sit still and be a pillow princess. Even as your hips pounding into him slaps his ass, that pain is nothing compared to the pleasure of your cock.

But it is, still, a lot more than he bargained for.

"Shit! Slower–wait, don't! Don't." His mind's a mess. He doesn't even know what he wants, and like the greedy girl he is, he still wants for something.

"Which one is it?" You huff into his ear, "Slow down, speed up? Don't stop?"

Instead of an answer, you punch out a moan out of it instead. It's girlish and has shame burning in his cheeks, but he won't do anything about it at all because this is what he gets.

He feels crowded against the wall, trapped; sweaty and warm and actually, all too hot against your body, and his hand grips at the wall and slips because of the paint, because if he touches you he's sure he'll get a spanking. It's so feverishly good but also so damn overstimulating. Pleasure, heat, pain, overextersion, goosebumps, stings, and pleasure light up his veins.

He needs to finish right now or else you'll keep abusing his hole, fucking it open and open 'till he's kept gaping around nothing; then he'll surely miss the feeling. It's the only thought in his head.

"Please." Cassian moans, sure of what he wants now, "Please, I wanna cum."

Cassie doesn't know he doesn't have to beg for it, because you'd have gone ahead either way. Pleasure will keep coming and coming and coming without a break no matter what he does, drilling him into the wall. His body, weakened by your endless pleasure, gives way to your will and your harsh thrusts.

His cock presses into the wall, as with the rest of his body, and crudely, the constant movement and rocking of his body caused by your cock makes his dick slide along the wall. It's enough pathetic friction to have him gushing.

"Oh," Cassian moans as he finishes in white, streaky persistent ropes, "oh! Oh fuck."

For a moment, a content, toothy smile adorns his face. He's high off his peak, momentarily gone into the clouds and so lost from reality.

Except, then, as the high slips from his reach, you don't stop, and he was a fool to think you would. You haven't finished yet, and you'll chase your high and use his body for it.

The only way Cassian can respond is with a wagging tongue and another high-pitched moan. He dug himself this grave.

#tricksh0t #x top male reader #backsh0t #x dom male reader #andor x male reader #cassian x reader #cassian x male reader #cassian x top male reader #andor x reader #andor x top male reader #cassian andor x male reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x top male reader

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