#while they don't 'owe' us anything

[dragonlights]

Sometimes you see a post that makes you want to sleep for a century cause of the sheer 'missing the point' of it all.

[kkoongie]

-

[firelord-frowny]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ive always thought it's so wiiiiiiiiild that so many of these ~mansions~ that used to be slave plantations are now government-owned and converted into museums instead of being collectively owned by all black americans, liiiiiiiiiiike....

we should fucking own that shit! our ancestors RAN those farms! worked that land! built those mansions! yet somebody other than us is benefiting from it now???

honest to god i wish black folks could all own those properties like a timeshare lmao and we'd all be entitled to spend a few days a year living it up in our luxurious country homes in the deep south. catch me sipping lemonade on my veranda on a hot summer evening while my housekeepers clean up the kitchen after dinner.

[hellolulu]

You really can tell people that you'll cut a person out or block them when they cross the line with you but they will NOT listen because they're so used to people saying it and not meaning it

[neo-shitty]

spring day never latches on to a permanent face. it takes the form of the people i miss whom i have no way of reconnecting with. ever since i read that message in my inbox, it has taken the form of you, kesya.

[shotmrmiller]

another thing i had in mind for ex husband simon was that this time you're more resistant. no touching, no nicknames that make you weak-kneed, nothing. divorce means divorce, and the wedge that split the two of you up would probably still be there.

fine by simon, he follows the rules to a T. hands to himself, polite greetings and only talks about the children. maybe for a birthday for the boys, he takes the family shopping for gifts since it's a tuesday and there won't be any party or whatever and when y'all come back home, the lights are on.

they'd been off when y'all left. simon quickly opens the middle console and pulls out his weapon and tells you to get in the drivers seat. should anything come running out, pedal to the metal.

a little bit of time passes, you're about to be driven crazy with anxiety but simon finally comes out, except he's empty handed.

comes to the side and opens the driver door. "whoever was in there is gone. probably hopped the back fence. i've already called the guys."

you're a sobbing mess because how dare someone come into your home? your sanctuary? what if-

and you come to a startling realization. what if you and the boys had been here? alone?

simon's looking down at his phone, and furrows his brows. "i gotta go get-" but you don't let him finish, trembling fingers grabbing the front of his shirt. "you cant leave us here. don't leave me alone. don't- just please. stay."

you're too upset to resist his embrace or correct him when he calls you sweetheart. the guys get there eventually, price and gaz waste no time in sweeping the area and you, accompanied by simon, tuck the kids to bed.

price calls it later, that the place seems to be clear. nothing really taken nor left behind. they all leave, johnny and kyle deciding to stay overnight across the street their car and simon also turns to bid you goodnight, except you don't let him.

you practically beg him to stay, that you won't feel safe without him here. the couch won't do because he's too far away, what if whoever that was comes in through the bedroom windows.

you seek comfort in him and in the dead of night, he whispers promises into your ear as he slides home. promises to keep you safe, to keep the kids safe. that he'd let nothing ever happened to you, not while he still lived and breathed.

when you're finally dozing, with his spend drying in between your legs, he grabs his phone and texts johnny that it's done, they can go home now.

johnny responds in seconds, telling him that he tore his very nice jeans jumping that rough hewn fence of theirs and that simon owes him a new pair.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Paying consumer debts is basically optional in the United States

The vast majority of America's debt collection targets $500-2,000 credit card debts. It is a filthy business, operated by lawless firms who hire unskilled workers drawn from the same economic background as their targets, who routinely and grotesquely flout the law, but only when it comes to the people with the least ability to pay.

America has fairly robust laws to protect debtors from sleazy debt-collection practices, notably the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA), which has been on the books since 1978. The FDCPA puts strict limits on the conduct of debt collectors, and offers real remedies to debtors when they are abused.

But for FDPCA provisions to be honored, they must be understood. The people who collect these debts are almost entirely untrained. The people they collected the debts from are likewise in the dark. The only specialized expertise debt-collection firms concern themselves with are a series of gotcha tricks and semi-automated legal shenanigans that let them take money they don't deserve from people who can't afford to pay it.

There's no better person to explain this dynamic than Patrick McKenzie, a finance and technology expert whose Bits About Money newsletter is absolutely essential reading. No one breaks down the internal operations of the finance sector like McKenzie. His latest edition, "Credit card debt collection," is a fantastic read:

https://www.bitsaboutmoney.com/archive/the-waste-stream-of-consumer-finance/

McKenzie describes how a debt collector who mistook him for a different PJ McKenzie and tried to shake him down for a couple hundred bucks, and how this launched him into a life as a volunteer advocate for debtors who were less equipped to defend themselves from collectors than he was.

McKenzie's conclusion is that "paying consumer debts is basically optional in the United States." If you stand on your rights (which requires that you know your rights), then you will quickly discover that debt collectors don't have – and can't get – the documentation needed to collect on whatever debts they think you owe (even if you really owe them).

The credit card companies are fully aware of this, and bank (literally) on the fact that "the vast majority of consumers, including those with the socioeconomic wherewithal to walk away from their debts, feel themselves morally bound and pay as agreed."

If you find yourself on the business end of a debt collector's harassment campaign, you can generally make it end simply by "carefully sending a series of letters invoking [your] rights under the FDCPA." The debt collector who receives these letters will have bought your debt at five cents on the dollar, and will simply write it off.

By contrast, the mere act of paying anything marks you out as substantially more likely to pay than nearly everyone else on their hit-list. Paying anything doesn't trigger forbearance, it invites a flood of harassing calls and letters, because you've demonstrated that you can be coerced into paying.

But while learning FDCPA rules isn't overly difficult, it's also beyond the wherewithal of the most distressed debtors (and people falsely accused of being debtors). McKenzie recounts that many of the people he helped were living under chaotic circumstances that put seemingly simple things "like writing letters and counting to 30 days" beyond their needs.

This means that the people best able to defend themselves against illegal shakedowns are less likely to be targeted. Instead, debt collectors husband their resources so they can use them "to do abusive and frequently illegal shakedowns of the people the legislation was meant to benefit."

Here's how this debt market works. If you become delinquent in meeting your credit card payments ("delinquent" has a flexible meaning that varies with each issuer), then your debt will be sold to a collector. It is packaged in part of a large spreadsheet – a CSV file – and likely sold to one of 10 large firms that control 75% of the industry.

The "mom and pops" who have the other quarter of the industry might also get your debt, but it's more likely that they'll buy it as a kind of tailings from one of the big guys, who package up the debts they couldn't collect on and sell them at even deeper discounts.

The people who make the calls are often barely better off than the people they're calling. They're minimally trained and required to work at a breakneck pace. Employee turnover is 75-100% annually: imagine the worst call center job in the world, and then make it worse, and make "success" into a moral injury, and you've got the debt-collector rank-and-file.

To improve the yield on this awful process, debt collection companies start by purging these spreadsheets of likely duds: dead people, people with very low credit-scores, and people who appear on a list of debtors who know their rights and are likely to stand on them (that's right, merely insisting on your rights can ensure that the entire debt-collection industry leaves you alone, forever).

The FDPCA gives you rights: for example, you have the right to verify the debt and see the contract you signed when you took it on. The debt collector who calls you almost certainly does not have that contract and can't get it. Your original lender might, but they stopped caring about your debt the minute they sold it to a debt-collector. Their own IT systems are baling-wire-and-spit Rube Goldberg machines that glue together the wheezing computers of all the companies they've bought over the last 25 years. Retrieving your paperwork is a nontrivial task, and the lender doesn't have any reason to perform it.

Debt collectors are bottom feeders. They are buying delinquent debts at 5 cents on the dollar and hoping to recover 8 percent of them; at 7 percent, they're losing money. They aren't "large, nationally scaled, hypercompetent operators" – they're shoestring operations that can only be viable if they hire unskilled workers and fail to train them.

They are subject to automatic damages for illegal behavior, but they still break the law all the time. As McKenzie writes, a debt collector will "commit three federal torts in a few minutes of talking to a debtor then follow up with a confirmation of the same in writing." A statement like "if you don’t pay me I will sue you and then Immigration will take notice of that and yank your green card" makes the requisite three violations: a false threat of legal action, a false statement of affiliation with a federal agency, and "a false alleged consequence for debt nonpayment not provided for in law."

If you know this, you can likely end the process right there. If you don't, buckle in. The one area that debt collectors invest heavily in is the automation that allows them to engage in high-intensity harassment. They use "predictive dialers" to make multiple calls at once, only connecting the collector to the calls that pick up. They will call you repeatedly. They'll call your family, something they're legally prohibited from doing except to get your contact info, but they'll do it anyway, betting that you'll scrape up $250 to keep them from harassing your mother.

These dialing systems are far better organized than any of the company's record keeping about what you owe. A company may sell your debt on and fail to keep track of it, with the effect that multiple collectors will call you about the same debt, and even paying off one of them will not stop the other.

Talking to these people is a bad idea, because the one area where collectors get sophisticated training is in emptying your bank account. If you consent to a "payment plan," they will use your account and routing info to start whacking your bank account, and your bank will let them do it, because the one part of your conversation they reliably record is this payment plan rigamarole. Sending a check won't help – they'll use the account info on the front of your check to undertake "demand debits" from your account, and backstop it with that recorded call.

Any agreement on your part to get on a payment plan transforms the old, low-value debt you incurred with your credit card into a brand new, high value debt that you owe to the bill collector. There's a good chance they'll sell this debt to another collector and take the lump sum – and then the new collector will commence a fresh round of harassment.

McKenzie says you should never talk to a debt collector. Make them put everything in writing. They are almost certain to lie to you and violate your rights, and a written record will help you prove it later. What's more, debt collection agencies just don't have the capacity or competence to engage in written correspondence. Tell them to put it in writing and there's a good chance they'll just give up and move on, hunting softer targets.

One other thing debt collectors due is robo-sue their targets, bulk-filing boilerplate suits against debtors, real and imaginary. If you don't show up for court (which is what usually happens), they'll get a default judgment, and with it, the legal right to raid your bank account and your paycheck. That, in turn, is an asset that, once again, the debt collector can sell to an even scummier bottom-feeder, pocketing a lump sum.

McKenzie doesn't know what will fix this. But Michael Hudson, a renowned scholar of the debt practices of antiquity, has some ideas. Hudson has written eloquently and persuasively about the longstanding practice of jubilee, in which all debts were periodically wiped clean (say, whenever a new king took the throne, or once per generation):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/24/grandparents-optional-party/#jubilee

Hudson's core maxim is that "debt's that can't be paid won't be paid." The productive economy will have need for credit to secure the inputs to their processes. Farmers need to borrow every year for labor, seed and fertilizer. If all goes according to plan, the producer pays off the lender after the production is done and the goods are sold.

But even the most competent producer will eventually find themselves unable to pay. The best-prepared farmer can't save every harvest from blight, hailstorms or fire. When the producer can't pay the creditor, they go a little deeper into debt. That debt accumulates, getting worse with interest and with each bad beat.

Run this process long enough and the entire productive economy will be captive to lenders, who will be able to direct production for follies and fripperies. Farmers stop producing the food the people need so they can devote their land to ornamental flowers for creditors' tables. Left to themselves, credit markets produce hereditary castes of lenders and debtors, with lenders exercising ever-more power over debtors.

This is socially destabilizing; you can feel it in McKenzie's eloquent, barely controlled rage at the hopeless structural knot that produces the abusive and predatory debt industry. Hudson's claim is that the rulers of antiquity knew this – and that we forgot it. Jubilee was key to producing long term political stability. Take away Jubilee and civilizations collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

Debts that can't be paid won't be paid. Debt collectors know this. It's irrefutable. The point of debt markets isn't to ensure that debts are discharged – it's to ensure that every penny the hereditary debtor class has is transferred to the creditor class, at the hands of their fellow debtors.

In her 2021 Paris Review article "America's Dead Souls," Molly McGhee gives a haunting, wrenching account of the debts her parents incurred and the harassment they endured:

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

After I published on it, many readers wrote in disbelief, insisting that the debt collection practices McGhee described were illegal:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/19/zombie-debt/#damnation

And they are illegal. But debt collection is a trade founded on lawlessness, and its core competence is to identify and target people who can't invoke the law in their own defense.

Going to Defcon this weekend? I’m giving a keynote, “An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet’s Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse,” today (Aug 12) at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/12/do-not-pay/#fair-debt-collection-practices-act

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: short fics (blurbs?) characters: leona, floyd, jade, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

It's eight in the morning after another disappointing attempt at rest, and now you can't even sleep in. Damn visitors.

You throw open the front door.

"What? What could you possibly- wh- Leona?"

The housewarden smirks. He looks a little too proud of himself for this early in the morning...

"A little wolfie told me you weren't sleeping well. Lucky for you, that's my specialty. Now, are you gonna let me in, or what?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and making himself comfortable on the couch in the foyer.

He pats the spot next to him.

"Listen..." you say. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm fine."

"Don't be proud. I don't pity you, I just... owe you. Now get your butt over here, yeah?"

Leona isn't so scary when he's asleep. He's more like... the world's largest pillow. Of course, you're at risk of being smothered until you crawl into a better position, but once you're on top, he's surprisingly warm and comfortable.

You can tell you're being watched before you hear anything.

And you think you might just know wh-

"Shrimpyyy!"

For two boys so tall, the tweels are awfully quiet. Especially when it comes to "surprising" you in random places. This time: the hall.

Floyd pulls you into a bone-crushing hug while Jade watches from behind, smiling subtly.

When he finally lets you down, you're dizzy. (Though, at this point, you'll take whatever physical touch you can get).

"Shrimpyyy, why didn't you tell us you were lonely? We had to squeeze it outta Spade," Floyd pouts.

"His face makes fascinating expressions when he's afraid," Jade says, merrily.

Before you can answer, Floyd's already got you under his arm (seriously? Where do they find the strength?) and is heading straight towards the hall of mirrors.

You already know there's no getting out of this one...

Floyd is, unsurprisingly, all over, from leaning his whole body weight against you to lying across your lap, to biting your shoulder (in his sleep...?) Oh, and he drools, too.

Jade sits on your other side, one hand holding yours, the other leafing through an almanac from twenty years ago.

You're almost hesitant to admit just how nice it really is.

"And nothing else has worked?" Vil says, throwing open the door to your bedroom with no regard for a "hello" or, "how are you?"

You blink. "...Hello to you, too. May I ask what you're talking about?"

He storms inside, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

"Just that I overheard Epel Felmier asking my vice housewarden if he would be willing to satisfy your need for physical affection. You've been struggling? With sleep? And you didn't think to come to me, first?"

He almost sounds... offended that you didn't.

"...Well... I wasn't making a big deal about it,"

"So, no teas, no vitamins, no pills- nothing has helped?"

You shake your head. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is purely psychological... very well. Get up. I hope you don't toss and turn much, I'm a light sleeper,"

Vil is completely still when he sleeps. No tossing, no turning, no drooling, no snoring. He also insists on sleeping on his back, you, clinging to his side, and a single arm around you. Just as elegant as when he's awake. He'd be a true sleeping beauty if not for the mumbles of nonsense that come from him every few minutes. You swear you can make out your own name, once or twice or three times...

He is warm nonetheless, and his mumbles and idle stroking of his fingers on your waist is enough to satisfy you for a night of good sleep.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”

Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”

“Wait, I’m just here to-”

“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”

Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.

“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.

“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”

Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”

“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”

Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.

“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”

“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”

“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.

“So, what brings you to Gotham?”

Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”

“You go to school?”

“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”

“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”

Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?

“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”

Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?

"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"

Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"

"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"

"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."

Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."

Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."

"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.

'Careful,' Black Bat signed.

"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"

Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.

'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.

"You know sign language?"

"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."

He knew ghost-sign first, after all.

"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."

----

Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.

"You two can come back anytime."

Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.

"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."

"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"

"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."

Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.

----

"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"

Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.

"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."

"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.

"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"

"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.

"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.

"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"

"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"

[toadtoru]

Satoru knows that he’s a little messed up. He supposes that's why he and Suguru fit so well. Shoko as well. They're all a little bloodied up, a little bruised. Like broken puzzle pieces that don't fit anywhere else, all pushed to the side of the table.

Shoko in particular really likes poking at the bruises. She likes watching the purple and blue bloom across his pale skin. She's even asked if she can open him up — take a look at what's inside. He usually reclines this offer.

You're a little different.

You don't like when Satoru picks at the scabs. He had to get used to this at first. The apparent realisation that you don't inherently expect anything from him. You don’t find his over confident jokes funny nor do you like it when he refers to himself as the strongest.

It’s weird. You’re weird.

He wonders how exactly he ended up here as you curl into his side, arms wrapped tightly around him. Your soft breathing fills the room, an occasional snore leaving you.

It’s all very soft and warm. Satoru doesn’t know whether to push you away or pull you closer. He looks at your sleeping form.

One of your eyes peeks open and you blink groggily at him. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

Satoru smiles. That’s what he’s used to doing, anyway. “Nothing,” he says. Your brows furrow as you snuggle closer to him, throwing a leg over his thigh. Satoru swears you must have been a koala in an earlier life. That’s the only explanation as to why you’re so clingy.

You’d never tell him that it’s because you’re desperately afraid of him slipping away if you were to let go for even a second.

“Something’s clearly up with you, but I’ll let you of the hook for now since I’m tired,” you say, burying your face in his neck. Satoru laughs.

“I have to go to work,” he says. You let out a groan, clutching him tighter. How that’s possible, Satoru isn’t entirely sure.

“It’s still night. Don’t go yet,”

It’s magnetic, the pull you have on him. Satoru finds himself wishing now more than ever that you were his only responsibility.

He’ll pretend. For a little while. Surely, no one can blame him for this little respite. (They will. He’ll deal with that later.)

Satoru closes his eyes, letting himself melt into your tight embrace.

They owe him that, at least.

[suiana]

yandere! parasite who decides to inhabit your body after observing you from his previous host. you're so cute! you'll definitely be a lot more comfortable to be in over this... fumbling fool that's obsessed with you.

the switch is seamless and you don't even realize that you have a parasite in you until he speaks.

you were stunned, where did this voice come from? you look around you, thinking your boss or coworker had called for you... only for the face of a... translucent and handsome looking man to appear right in front of you.

"hey!"

"what the- where did you come from? wait a minute who even are you?"

"you're so silly. isn't it obvious that i'm a parasite and you're my host?"

"a... parasite?"

you freak out, thinking you have brain eating worms in you as you break down in the middle of your job. fortunately, the lovely parasite in you takes the time to comfort you through your brain.

he tells you that he won't kill you and that he's a symbiotic parasite. that he'll just co-exist with you for as long as you live. that he won't interrupt your life whatsoever, he just needs a place to stay, you know?

at least that's what he tells you and himself.

unbeknownst to him, he had... unfortunately adopted certain characteristics from his previous host. and what did that include? his obsession of course.

he doesn't notice it at first. he was just acting like his normal self, observing your day to day life for about a month or two while interacting happily with you through brain messages. everything was fine and dandy! nothing out of the ordinary for the both of you except for the fact that you now had a parasite in your brain.

and he was quite useful actually! improving your health, boosting your physical strength and stuff... it was so freaking cool! you never knew you could do all these things!

plus, he was so sweet! you two were definitely like a pair of really good friends even if you just met a month or two ago! he's just perfect!

that was, until he saw someone confessing to you.

he didn't understand what was going on. why did his chest tighten up at the sight of some other person confessing their love to you? why does he feel a sudden rush of... anger?

he turns to watch what you do and he swears he only feels more anger at how you react. cheeks flushed, pupils dilated...

no, he couldn't have that.

meanwhile, you were totally flattered by the sudden confession. especially when it was from this cute nerd from the IT department! maybe you'll accept- wait, wait, wait! why was your body moving on its own?!

"you belong to me."

the parasite in your brain mumbles as you lose all control of your body and begin walking away from your admirer. what the?! he's never done this before! why's he taking control of your body?!

"hey! give my body back!"

"how could you do this to me? i am hurt, my dear host."

you couldn't even respond, too shocked to even say anything before you try to resust again. obviously it wouldn't work but it doesn't hurt to try.

"hey cut it out! i thought you said we're just living together? what's this? you totally messed up my chances of getting with someone!"

you were about to snap back when you feel a cold dread creep up your spine. shit, you forgot he could control everything in your body.

you could only watch in horror as he brings your body back to your apartment before he forces your body onto your bed. his translucent body appears in your vision once more, pinning you to the bed. you couldn't even resist even if you tried. he controlled your brain after all.

"you're my host, therefore, you are mine. i do not understand what's so hard to understand."

gritting your teeth, you could only allow this parasitic admirer of yours to stare down at you while grinding his hips into yours. damn, what's he trying to-

"hah... you're so cute... i love you so much... can i explore you? I'm so curious. I've always looked away when you were bare but..."

you couldn't even say no if you tried. your body was responding on its own. damn it! his brain controlling abilities were too good! maybe you should be a parasite in your next life.

"ah... is that a yes? god, i love you. i love you, i love you... i love you so much my darling host."

...

were you about to have mental sex with the parasite living in your body right now?!

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper reader x undercover bodyguard bucky)

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

word count: 3.3k

author's note: wow okay this kind of got away from me. this is probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. felt my heartbeat in my pussy while writing this. hope you enjoy!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[girlgenius1111]

casts, broken arms, & snuggles

alexia putellas x reader - part of the mila verse :)

an accident at the park pulls alexia from training and to the hospital, where she finds both her girls not doing their best. everyone is very overwhelmed with their feelings, and maybe don't handle it the way they should. basically, protective panicked alexia and insecure reader. a bit of angst / injuries / concussions symptoms, mostly fluff.

------

You knew Alexia would panic. There wasn’t much you could do about that. Especially not when the only way you had to reach her was through the staff. It was somewhat of a bad omen within the team, having a staff member walk outside with a phone call for you. It only happened in an emergency, and unfortunately, this definitely counted as an emergency. When one of the assistant coaches, Xavi, answered the phone, he seemed to be on the same page as you. 

“Try to act calm, otherwise she’ll just freak out.” 

“I am not sure there is much I can do to avoid her having a nervous breakdown.” Xavi stated. You heard him call Alexia over, and tried to shush the very upset almost 3 year old in your arms. 

“Amor, what is wrong?”Alexia asked, practically tearing the phone out of Xavi’s hand as soon as she heard who was calling. 

“Everything is fine, okay? There was just a little accident.” You began, speaking in a soothing, calming tone, the same one you’d been using on the baby. 

“What kind of accident?” 

“Meels fell at the park-” 

“¡AY DIOS MIO!” Alexia shouted. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Ale, breathe. She fell off the slide and I think her arm might be broken. She won’t let me touch it and she hasn’t stopped crying.”

“Broken?!” Alexia squeaked. 

“Ow.” Mila whimpered, frowning unhappily at her arm from where she sat in your lap. “Hurts, Mama.” 

“I know, baby.” You told her. “Ale, the ambulance is here to take us to the hospital do you-” 

“What were you doing? Were you not watching her? Why weren't you watching her, why did she fall?” Alexia snapped. 

You bit back the retort you had ready, knowing this was just a result of her fear for Mila. You weren’t happy with what she’d said, but that could be dealt with later. “We’re leaving now for the hospital. Meet us there.” You said coldly, before hanging up the phone without saying anything else. Alright, you were pretty upset, and you let it show. You had already been beating yourself up for what had happened, thinking the things that Alexia had said. 

As you and Mila got loaded into the ambulance, you realized you hadn’t mentioned something important to your wife. No doubt, she was hauling ass to the hospital, so she’d find out soon enough.

-------

Alexia burst into the room in a flutter of chaos, throwing the curtain aside and looking around frantically. Mila was sitting in your lap, holding her arm awkwardly away from her body, while you ran your fingers through her wavy brown hair and tried to keep her calm. Both of you looked at Alexia when she walked in, her panic clear on her face. She was sweaty, still in her training kit, and her eyes were only on her daughter.

“Mila, mi bebé,” she said gently, moving closer to the bed. 

“Mami!” Mila cried, a pout on her small face, holding her arm out for Alexia to see. She squirmed in your lap, trying to get closer to your wife, but you both made sure she stayed carefully where she was. 

“Pobrecita,” Alexia murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing repeated kisses to her baby’s head. She stared hard at Mila’s already swollen arm, trying to stifle her own tears. You weren’t pleased with Alexia, but you weren’t particularly upset that she hadn’t even glanced at you, her attention fully on Mila. “What happened?” 

Mila’s voice wobbled as she began to talk, reaching out with her good hand to grip onto a few of Alexia’s fingers.. “Fell! Off the slide. Mama tried to catch me, but now she has an ouchie too.” 

Alexia’s eyes flew to you, seeing for the first time the towel and large ice pack pressed to the back of your head. Her heart sank. She knew before that she would have to apologize for what she had said, and now she knew she’d have to do even more groveling. Especially if the hurt look on your face was any indication. 

“Amor,” she sighed, reaching for your hand. You pulled it away, refusing to make eye contact with her. 

“I’m fine.” You dismissed. “Mila’s got a basic fracture, just a month or so in a cast to fix it. They’ll be in to put it on soon.” 

“Mama needs stitches.” Mila whispered conspiratorially to her Mami. 

Alexia’s face grew, somehow, even more upset. “What happened, mi amor?” 

Still avoiding her eyes, you spoke quietly. “I was going to catch her at the bottom of the slide, but she stood up at the top and fell off the side.” 

“And your head?” Alexia asked, leaning closer to try and inspect your injury. Mila looked up at you with concern, her expression matching her Mami’s almost exactly. Where Alexia’s fingers were gentle as they cradled your head, Mila’s were clumsy and clunky as she tried to run her fingers through your hair. It was something you did to make her feel better, and she thought that maybe it would make your frown go away, too. 

“I tried to catch her in time, but I slipped and hit my head on the edge of the slide. And I didn’t really catch her.” You admitted, slightly embarrassed at that fact. Alexia would have caught Mila, you were sure. 

“It’s okay, Mama, you tried your best!” Mila said encouragingly, parroting back something you and Alexia must have told her a hundred times. Her arm temporarily forgotten, Mila shifted so she could lean up and press a kiss to your cheek, before she snuggled closer to your chest. 

Your wife’s eyes were stuck on your daughter, practically turning into hearts as she took in how sweet and caring her baby was. You couldn’t blame her; you felt the same. That you had created such a perfect little person would never cease to amaze you. 

“Thank you, my baby.” You mumbled, wincing slightly as you shifted, trying to keep Mila’s arm in a safe position. Every movement of your upper body sent waves of pain through your head, but you didn’t want Mila to know how upset you were. 

“Mi amor, I-”

Whatever Alexia was about to say was cut off completely as the doctor entered the room, introducing herself to your wife, and beginning to talk Mila through the process of getting the cast put on. There were some tears, wiped away quickly by her Mami, as they began to wrap up her arm. 

Once the nurses had taken over, and began adding the colored plaster to the cast, and Mila was suitably distracted, the doctor regarded you. 

“Alright, let’s get that head wound taken care of.” She said kindly, motioning you over to a chair in the corner of the room. She stood by your head, beginning to clean the wound and prepare to stitch it up.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to keep your wincing to a minimum. Alexia watched on worriedly from her spot next to Mila, knowing how much you hated needles. The midfielder so wanted to comfort you through this, but she also didn’t want to leave Mila alone if she was still upset. So, she did what you’d spent many years helping her do, and communicated. 

“Milabear? Can I go hold your Mama’s hand while she gets her stitches?” She whispered, heart melting at how Mila looked over at you, and nodded enthusiastically. 

“Go help Mama.” She said bravely, feeling much better now that she had her red cast on her arm, and that the nurse had given her some goldfish. Mila munched away happily, her eyes trained on the TV hanging on the wall, and Alexia had never been more grateful for having such an independent and resilient child than she was in that moment. 

Your eyes were still shut, a few tears escaping as you tried very hard to act like the adult you were. You startled a bit when Alexia crouched in front of you and took your hand. Opening your eyes, you tried to breathe deeply, feeling the doctor begin to thread the needle through the skin of your scalp. A small, rather pathetic whimper fell from your lips, and Alexia brought your hand to her lips, pressing kisses to the back of it. Her adoring gaze only made more tears fall, and you felt completely ridiculous. 

“You are okay, amor. It will be over soon.” 

Every tear that fell was gently swiped away by your wife. The doctor worked as carefully as she could, but there were still tugs on your skin that had shivers running down your spine, and your stomach churning. There was only so much Alexia could do to help, but luckily, it wasn’t a very large wound, and the doctor was done within a few minutes, cutting the excess thread and reaching for a white bandage. She wrapped that around your head, holding a piece of gauze in place, which really felt like overkill. 

“Okay, done.” The doctor announced, removing her gloves and stepping away from your chair. Alexia’s earlier words forgotten, you stood shakily to your feet, allowing yourself to fall into your wife’s open arms. 

“You did so good.” She whispered, smiling despite herself at the bandage wrapped around your head. You looked adorable, frowning up at her with tears in your eyes, looking somewhat like a disgruntled mummy. 

“Mama?” Mila called from her spot on the bed. 

You wiped at your eyes quickly, plastering a smile on your face as you walked over to your daughter. “Hi Meels.” 

“All better, Mama?” She asked, reaching both of her arms out for you to pick her up, which you did easily.

“All better.” You confirmed, holding her as close as you could. 

“Almost all better.” The doctor smiled, turning to your wife. “She has a mild concussion with the impact on the ground, so she’s going to need to take it easy for a few days. I am assuming you know concussion protocol, Ms. Putellas?” 

“Yes, yes of course.” Alexia said, her eyes squinting with concern as she studied you. “I will take good care of her.” 

“Me too!” Mila added, squirming in your hold until she could loop her arms around Alexia’s neck and shift over into her arms. 

Your wife very hesitantly pulled you into her as the doctor left the room. You tilted your head to make eye contact with her, still with a small frown on your face. It was clear that you were still upset with your wife, but the determination in her eyes told you she’d do anything to fix it. 

------

Apparently, anything consisted of making you sit on the couch next to Mila, holding an ice pack to your head, and not daring to move. Your wife went from room to room, collecting anything she had determined you or Mila might need. It was endearing, but also somewhat frustrating when she’d appear to hand you something, and go flitting off before you could just ask her for what you really wanted: for her to sit on the couch with the two of you, and relax. 

Stressed Alexia made you stressed, but you knew this was just how she was coping with what had happened today. Alexia always held a lot of guilt for the little moments she missed while at work; any milestone that Mila achieved while Alexia wasn’t around was downright painful for your wife. She was a protective person, and you knew she was even more bothered because both you and Mila were hurt, and she hadn’t been there to help either of you. 

You and Mila sat side by side, heads moving back and forth like you were watching a tennis match. In fact, you were just watching Alexia disappear and reappear with Mila’s favorite toy, a blanket, your favorite sweatshirt, a snack, some water, more ice, more painkillers and 6 different pillows for Mila to rest her cast on. You were exhausted just watching her. 

She appeared back in the living room like a ghost the minute you stood up, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders and gently pushing you back down onto the couch. 

“Ale, just let me-”

“No! Sit.” Alexia insisted, ignoring the small giggle from her daughter. 

You rolled your eyes, shrugging out from under her grip and standing anyway. “Alexia, I have to go to the bathroom. You can’t do that for me.” 

Alexia had the decency to blush, at least. “Okay. I’ll walk you there.” She decided, grabbing your hand and beginning to escort you to the bathroom. Honestly. 

Always her mother’s shadow, Mila got up too, and grabbed your other hand. “Mami I can-”

“No. Sit!” Alexia repeated, though with a small smile as she regarded her daughter. “Mila, you stay there. I can take care of everything.” 

“But Mami-”

“No! I can help Mama, you need to rest.” Your wife said, ignoring the amused look you were giving her, too focused on the attitude suddenly radiating off your daughter. 

“Mami. I have to go potty too.” Mila said exasperatedly. Ale blushed further, nodding as she allowed Mila to accompany you both towards the bathroom. You turned your snort of laughter into a fake cough, knowing that Alexia could be sensitive to being teased about her over protectiveness. And, well… it seemed Mila was holding her own in showing her Mami how ridiculous she was being. 

Once you’d arrived at the bathroom door, which took significantly longer than was necessary due to your wife and her mini-me insisting on walking slowly so as to not aggravate your head wound. You indulged them, only putting your foot down when both of them began to follow you into the bathroom. 

“No. Enough. I can do this myself.” You sighed, looking between both Alexia and Mila’s skeptical expressions. 

“But what if-”

“Mama, I can-”

You interrupted both of them by shutting the door and letting out a deep sigh. If you didn’t have a scar across your abdomen that told you that you’d birthed Mila, you’d be sure she was Alexia’s genetic clone. 

------

The rest of the night consisted of overwhelming amounts of hovering, from your wife and daughter both. Alexia took turns fussing over you, and fussing over Mila, until you were sure you were going to make her sleep on the couch or something, before she suggested waking you up every 20 minutes and performing a cognitive test. 

Alexia had just barely put Mila down in her toddler bed when she heard you call for her. There was urgency in your voice, but it was still obvious that you were trying to keep your voice down for Mila’s benefit. It had been hard enough to get the toddler to sleep; she had become suddenly very tearful once it was time for bed, because her favorite pajama shirt didn’t fit over her cast. It had taken one of Alexia’s t-shirts, around 45 minutes of cuddles, and 4 different stories, for her to finally settle. 

“Alexia,” you whisper yelled, shutting your eyes as the dizziness got worse. You heard Alexia rush down the hall towards you and willed yourself to hold on just a moment longer. 

Alexia ran into the room, seeing you with your head in your hands, sitting up in the bed. “What is it, amor?” 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you managed, pressing a hand to your mouth as Alexia sprung into action. 

“Okay, okay, just hold on one second.” 

Just in time, Alexia thrust the bedroom trash can in front of you. You were sick, retching into the trash can uncomfortably. Your wife pulled your hair back, being careful to not jostle the skin around your stitches, tying it into a very loose bun. She rubbed your back soothingly, pressing kisses into the side of your head until you were done. 

“Oh, amor, I am so sorry.” She murmured, taking the trash can from you once you were done. She was going to take it out of the room, but then she noticed the tears in your eyes, and decided that could wait until later. 

You curled into her when she sat by your legs and pulled you into her arms. Within a second, you were sobbing brokenly into her shirt, incapable of resisting how comforted you felt when she held you. 

Alexia whispered soft reassurances into your hair, beginning to think you were upset about more than just feeling so unwell. “Amor, is it your head? Or something else?” 

You shook your head weakly into her chest, sucking in a few breaths before you tried to respond. “Meels broke her arm and it’s all my fault.” You said miserably. 

“No no no, do not say that. It was not your fault, you did the best you could.” Alexia rushed to make you feel better, but that’s all it felt like; something she was saying just to make you feel better.

“You would have caught her.” 

Alexia’s chest squeezed uncomfortably, knowing that she was partially at fault for how guilty you felt right now. Even if what she’d said had been in the heat of the moment, and it was just a reflection of how upset she was, of course you’d taken it to heart. 

“It was an accident, mi amor. It is no one’s fault. Sometimes kids fall, sometimes they get hurt. It happens.”

“But Ale, it wouldn’t have happened if you had been with her. You’re just… so much better at this than I am.” You mumbled, refusing to untuck your face from Alexia’s shirt, even as she tried to get you to. 

“That is so not true.” Alexia insisted. “You cracked your head open trying to make sure Mila didn’t get hurt. That is not something a bad mother does.” 

You ignored her logic, wiping a tear away with that back of your hand. “You were right earlier. I should have been watching closer.”

Alexia shook her head again. “No. I was-“

“You blamed me then, what’s changed?” You snapped, not quite sure where all of these negative emotions were coming from, or why your mood was changing at the drop of a hat. Sad and guilty one second, angry the next. It wasn’t fair to Alexia, who was just trying to make you feel better, but there wasn’t any room for rationality in your jumbled head. 

Luckily, your wife didn’t seem to take your words or your tone personally. Instead, she tucked a piece of hair back behind your ear and softly kissed your forehead, showing more patience than you were sure you deserved.

“I don’t blame you. I was terrified earlier, but that is no excuse. This was not your fault and I’m sorry I made you feel like it was. So sorry, amor.” Her voice was sweet and you could feel how sincere she was, just from the way her hand gently cradled your cheek. 

Nodding shakily, you took a deep breath, suddenly feeling more than a little exhausted. “I’m sorry, Ale, I just-”

Alexia cut you off, though, placing her index finger over your lips. She looked stern again, like she had before when she was making sure you stayed on the couch and didn’t move. “It’s okay. No apologies. You are overwhelmed and hurt and exhausted. You need rest, we can talk about this more tomorrow if we need to.” 

You nodded your agreement, shifting uncomfortably as you glared down at your pillows. Your head absolutely throbbed, and you hadn’t even tried to rest it on the pillow yet. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep.” You mumbled, brow furrowing in confusion when Alexia smiled cheekily at you.

“I do!” She said enthusiastically, quickly tucking herself under the covers and pulling you to lay on her chest. Your head was completely safe from any contact with anything, and you found so much peace in the steady thump of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear. 

She was a miracle worker, Alexia. Just when you thought you were going to explode with the amount of thoughts swirling around in your head, she quieted your brain with a few words and a few kisses. 

Unfortunately, as comfortable as you were, sleep did not seem to be in the cards for either of you. At least, not yet. No sooner than your eyes had fallen shut, and Alexia had settled comfortably into the pillows did you both hear the creak of Mila’s door opening. 

You exchanged a glance with your wife, keeping completely silent, knowing that sometimes Mila would come check on you both during the night, before heading back to her room. You heard her little steps padding down the hall, a small gasp, and then a loud thump. 

Alexia was out of bed before Mila could even cry out. “Stay there!” She threw over her shoulder, causing you to sit back down on the bed with a grumble. You were glad Alexia hadn’t turned the light off earlier, as she sprinted carelessly out of the room towards your daughter. 

“Mama!” Mila sobbed, her little voice breaking your heart. She wanted you, and it took everything in you to not go to her in that moment, knowing that Alexia would bring her to you. 

“It’s okay, cariño, I’m here.” Alexia soothed, Mila’s cries becoming muffled by her Mami’s shirt. 

Still, you could make out her next words very clearly. “I want Mama,” Mila demanded. 

Alexia just shushed her, a few seconds passing before they both appeared in the doorway. Mila’s face was red and stained with tears, her cast cradled to her chest. She reached for you as soon as she saw you, and Alexia wasted no time in bringing her over. 

“Careful, Milabear,” she reminded softly, handing the toddler over to you. Mila curled up against your chest, and you rubbed her back soothingly, exchanging a worried glance with your wife. 

Mila was a rough and tumble kid; she fell often, and really only cried if she was actually hurt. Sometimes, not even then. She was like her Mami in that way, so her inconsolable tears now terrified you. 

“I think she tripped over my shirt.” Alexia murmured, running her hands through her daughter’s hair. Dressed in one of Alexia’s old warm up shirts, Mila surely had tripped over the hem of it. You could see this information really sinking into your wife’s head, as she began to gnaw on her bottom lip, worry and guilt clouding her face.  

“Baby, did you trip?” You asked, easing Mila away from your body so you could get a good look at her face. She nodded, looking between you and your wife, her bottom lip jutting out adorably. 

“Woke up and my arm hurt, and I wanted to sleep in here but I couldn’t see and I fell.” Mila said. “Mama’s shirt is too big.” She continued forlornly, as if just now realizing this piece of information. 

Alexia looked truly distressed, opening her mouth to apologize for allowing Mila to sleep in her shirt, even though you knew the toddler had cried and cried until Alexia had finally given in to what she wanted, if only so she could sleep. You spoke before Alexia could, though, pushing a lock of hair out of your baby’s face. 

“Did you bump your arm when you fell?” You asked. Mila nodded, sniffling sadly. “Does it hurt a lot more or just a little bit more?” 

“A lot at first. Just a little bit now.” Mila said bravely, peeking at her Mami out of the corner of her eye. She loved to act tough, your little girl, but she was only three, and broken bones hurt. 

Alexia still hovered on your side of the bed, looking like she wanted to cry. 

“Alright, Mami will go get you some ice, and you can sleep in here with us tonight. Deal?” 

Mila nodded, flopping forward again to rest on your chest. The fact that her mood didn’t even really lift when you told her she could sleep with the two of you told you that she was really hurting. 

Without a word, only a soft kiss placed on Mila’s forehead, Alexia headed for the freezer. She walked calmly out of the room, but both you and Mila heard the unmistakable sound of her running her way to the kitchen, and running back. 

“Mami’s running.” Mila said, a small smile adorning her face. You laughed quietly, doing your best to keep your smile in check as Alexia slowed to a walk just before walking through the bedroom door, acting as though she’d walked the whole way. 

The blonde had returned with the biggest ice pack you had, the one that she’d used on her knee. She wrapped it meticulously around Mila’s arm, handed her a small sippy cup [of what looked suspiciously like juice, even though Mila was only supposed to have water this late at night], and some children’s pain medicine. 

It was only when Alexia slipped back into bed that she spoke, addressing her daughter with a deep sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry about your shirt, cariño, I shouldn’t have let you wear it.” 

Mila gave her a strange look, scooting out of your lap to lay directly on top of your wife. Her little fingers grabbed onto her Mami’s shirt, even the one’s restrained by her cast twisting into the fabric. “It’s okay, Mami. Was an accident.” 

You smiled at your girls, watching Alexia’s face melt from guilt into adoration as she leaned down to kiss all over Mila’s face. Your daughter giggled, and your heart soared at the sound, more than happy that she had stopped crying and cheered up. 

Mila settled back down against her Mami, reaching one hand out to latch onto your shirt and attempt to pull you closer. “Mama, closer.” She complained, huffing when you didn’t budge. 

Alexia frowned, worried you would put yourself into an uncomfortable position with your head in order to make Mila happy, but luckily, your daughter seemed to have the same thought. 

“Not on your back Mama! You gotta lay on your front. Here, lay on Mami.” Mila offered, whacking Alexia in the face with her cast as she struggled to move over. You snorted at the disgruntled look on your wife’s face, ignoring the fake glare she sent back your way.

It took some maneuvering from everyone involved before Mila was curled up against one side of Alexia’s chest, and you were resting with your cheek pressed into on the other side. Only once you and Mila were both comfy did Alexia kiss Mila on the forehead, and you chastly on the lips. 

And it was only when Mila had drifted off, soft puffs of air leaving her as she gripped onto both you and your wife, that you relaxed. Alexia gave you a knowing smile, well aware that your daughter's insistence that you hold her when she’d gotten hurt, and that you be included in the bedtime snuggles, had put to rest your worries that you’d failed her today. 

It all evened out, in parenthood. You couldn’t forget that. Tomorrow, when Alexia would turn away for a split second too long during breakfast and Mila would end up with syrup in her hair, you’d be even more sure of that. Mistakes didn’t change how much you or Alexia loved Mila, or how much she loved both of you. 

Mila didn’t keep score. She just loved you both, and that was that. 

-----

this has been in my drafts for genuienly several months so i apologize if it doesn't feel very cohesive. hope you enjoy anyway 🙂🫶🏻 thanks for reading 🫡🥰

[bweeeb]

HARD DICK...or three

Summary: Draco, Theo and Mattheo have always been Y/n's best friends, but when she realizes that the reason her relationships don't last long are them, the conversation takes a funny turn involving three boys with hard cocks.

Warnings: English is not my first language, a lot of intimacy between the boys and the reader.

---

There were people who were lucky in their careers, financial life, academics, and even love life. You were a lucky person but hated to admit that the hardest part for you was always your unluckiest part. Boyfriends were never easy for you, and staying stable with them was even harder. You never considered if the reason none of them lasted or were worthwhile was your fault—your poor choices, or the lack of character in all three serious relationships you had over the past few years. You never questioned it until last night. Dave Franco was your boyfriend for a year and a half, and last night he had a jealous outburst in the middle of a Hufflepuff party. You swore you heard him repeat the same words more than three times, “shitty friends,” “are you sure you didn’t have a threesome?” “They want to fuck you!” You were drunk and getting upset with his words until you realized that maybe your friends were much more intimidating to your boyfriends or flings than you had noticed. So you concluded that no, you were not the problem; they were…

— Alright, Our sleeping beauty has already missed the first classes.

Theodore's voice spread through the silent room along with the rustling of the comforter beside you as he occupied the space next to you.

— If you miss lunch, Snape will punish you until next year.

Mattheo said, pulling the blanket off your body, exposing your figure dressed only in navy blue lingerie that hugged your curves.

— And that means if you want to graduate this year, you better get out of this room.

Draco said, casting his eyes over you as you groaned into your pillow and shook your head in denial.

— Fuck off.

You whimpered, feeling your body shiver from the cold due to the lack of a blanket. Normally, you wouldn't be so exposed in front of your male friends, but Dave had broken up with you, so you didn't care at all if the three saw your butt, breasts, or whatever—it wasn't anything more than they had grown up seeing.

— What the hell happened to you? You didn’t even drink that much last night.

Theo said, and immediately you turned to look at him with a pout on your lips.

— Dave, he broke up with me.

You muttered, sitting up quickly.

— And it's your fault, so one of you owes me some affection.

As soon as you said that, your legs wrapped around Nott's waist, who smiled mischievously at Malfoy and Riddle, who were standing at the foot of the bed, watching you almost naked, snuggling into Theodore’s lap. It wasn’t a secret that you were obviously the dream of the three boys, and the fact that you grew up together gave them enough freedom to act like that among themselves.

— What do you mean?

Theodore asked, wrapping his arms around you.

— Yeah, he broke up with you because we’re your friends? Was he afraid of getting punched if he broke your heart or what?

Mattheo mocked Dave, and Draco laughed beside him and continued:

— Man, I think he's gay; there's no way he broke up with you because of us.

— No, he thinks we fucked or something. I don't know how many times I heard the word threesome or that you guys wanted to fuck me last night. Man, it was like torture.

You groaned, getting off Nott's lap and out of the bed, walking towards the mirror. You looked at yourself and sighed, rolling your eyes.

— The guy broke up with you because he thinks we want to fuck you?

Theodore laughed, and you gave him the middle finger while fixing your hair.

— Honestly, he's more insecure than my grandfather. Merlin, how did you stand him?

Draco laughed as Mattheo approached you and hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

— Oh yeah, Draco’s grandfather probably fucks his grandmother more than that loser Dave fucked you. Am I wrong?

Mattheo said with a mischievous smile directed at you through the mirror's reflection, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

— Ew, I don't want to think about Malfoy's grandparents having sex.

Theodore grunted, getting out of bed.

— Yeah, whatever, but the point here is that you all can hug her, and I can't? Get your claws off her, Riddle.

Draco grumbled, unhappy with your position, receiving an irritating smile from Mattheo, who let you go and allowed you to go to Draco with a gentle smile.

— Ah, he's a baby, guys.

You said, and Draco glared at you with a scowl.

— Shut up…

Draco grumbled, pulling you by the waist and throwing you on the bed with him on top.

— I’ll put a baby in you if you keep that up.

— See, that’s why my relationships don’t last.

You said, throwing your head back and pushing Draco off you to fall beside you on the bed.

— Nah, this is bullshit because we don’t do this with you when you’re dating.

Theodore said, sitting next to where your head was lying, as did Mattheo on the opposite side.

— I don’t know; maybe I’m just a terrible girlfriend and act the wrong way.

You murmured, frustrated, turning onto your stomach to hide your face in a pillow.

— Y/n, princess, stop blaming yourself for the idiot’s idiotic choice.

Draco shrugged while leaning his back against the bed's headboard and throwing another pillow at your now exposed butt.

— You hardly even come near us when you’re dating. I can’t remember the last time I hugged you besides today.

Mattheo made a mocking expression, thinking David was making false accusations about you.

— You are the most loyal person in Hogwarts, and everyone knows it. If your boyfriends are all insecure enough not to handle being with you because of us, it’s simple—they don’t deserve you, dolcezza.

— Really?

You asked, and as confirmation, you received three murmurs of agreement. Propping your elbows on the mattress, your gaze changed to a curious look that was noticed by Nott and Riddle.

— Hmm, do you guys want to?

You asked another question, and this time the boys’ faces on your bed were genuinely confused.

— What?

Mattheo questioned your question, and you laughed, laying your head on Theo’s lap, who had lit a cigarette. With a look, Nott understood; he brought the cigarette to you, and with a wild smile, he answered Mattheo and asked you.

— Fuck you?

— Uh-huh.

You agreed, hearing Draco laugh while accepting the cigarette from Theo.

— Everyone wants to fuck you, princess.

— Right, but I’m not talking about everyone; I’m talking about you guys.

You said impatiently, sitting on your heels to look at the three on your bed, staring at you without saying a word.

— Come on, I’m curious.

— You don’t understand, do you?

Mattheo, with his dark eyes and a sly smile, leaned closer to your neck.

— Don’t understand what?

— You can’t ask if we’d fuck you when you’re dressed like that, darling.

Mattheo murmured, and you heard Theo and Draco’s nasal laughter as they moved on the bed.

— Okay, so that would be a yes?

You asked.

— Hell yeah.

Theo agreed, bringing the cigarette back to his plump lips and then to yours.

Your smile grew with each passing minute of silence in the room. The three of them were eyeing you as if you were gold, and you couldn’t measure how much that amused you.

— What?

You asked, feigning innocence as if you hadn’t seen the bulges growing in the pants of the three there.

— Alright, I’ll get changed so we can meet Pansy and Daphne. Wait for me a second.

With that, you got up from the bed and heard a groan from Draco.

— Seriously? I’m hard as fuck, damn it.

Malfoy groaned again, and the four of you laughed.

— You’re evil.

Theo sighed, and you turned to look at them with a pained face.

— I think my dick is going to break, it’s so hard right now.

Mattheo said, throwing himself on the bed before looking at you at the bathroom door with a huge smile.

— Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything.

You said innocently, and Mattheo snorted.

— How am I supposed to continue the day like this?

— I don’t know, jerk off together, think of Malfoy's grandparents fucking.

You laughed again, and their scowls grew bigger.

— I swear you’ll pay for this, dolcezza.

Was the last thing you heard besides groans before you left to change for afternoon classes.

---

I hope you enjoy this

And if you want to read some dirty shit here:

[incorrectbatfam]

how does a batfam pool day go?

The adults: *chilling by the poolside*

Alfred: I am going to fetch some more drinks. Try not to break anything while I'm gone.

Bruce: We've been here for two hours and nothing's happened.

Selina: Exactly. Everything's fine. Right, Kate?

Kate, taking out one headphone: Hm?

Alfred: If you say so, Miss Kyle.

Alfred: *leaves*

Selina, flipping through her magazine: "What sundress you should wear based on your horoscope." Bruce, you're a Pisces, right?

Bruce: Yeah, but—

Cass: *jogs over*

Bruce: What is it, princess?

Cass: *points to a crowd gathered across the pool*

Bruce: Is anyone hurt?

Cass: *shakes her head*

Bruce: Good. Now let's see what this is about.

[across the pool]

Dick: What if we send someone down to push you out?

Jason, stuck in the kiddie tube slide: We already tried that.

Damian, stuck behind Jason: *muffled anger*

Jason: Ow! Quit kicking me, brat.

Dick: We could try pulling again.

Tim: Not again, I got a full day's workout the first time.

Harper: Maybe we need a lubricant. Steph, got any butter?

Steph: Just because I'm the waffle girl doesn't mean I carry butter with me wherever I go.

Harper: Well... do you?

Steph: Yeah, it's in my bag, hang on.

Duke: *recording*

Barbara: Finally, the adults are here.

Bruce: What's going on?

Everyone: *starts talking at once*

Bruce: One at a time. Jason?

Jason: In a way, this is your fault. You keep treating us like kids and we might just forget that we're too old for the kiddie slide.

Bruce: Mhm, sure.

Steph, returning: Got the butter.

Bruce: Good. We'll use half of it here and the other half inside.

Duke: *zooms in*

Tim: *drops half the butter down the slide*

Damian: *muffled*

Tim: *hits the side of the slide*

Tim: The sooner you shut up and cooperate the sooner you'll have Jason's feet out of your face.

Bruce: Okay, all buttered up. On three.

Kate and Selina: *grab Jason's arms and pull*

Jason: *pops out*

Damian: *follows after*

Damian: That was more harrowing than death.

Steph: Where's the wrapper? We should throw it away so we don't contaminate the pool.

Damian: I must have left it in there.

Bruce: I'll get it.

Bruce: *goes down the slide*

Bruce: *gets stuck*

Bruce: Uh oh.

Steph: I'll get my backup butter.

[nisuna]

I'm baaackk ha ha ㅠㅠ I just got really inspired soo...here we go!

my first multi-jjk men-mega-drabble huhuhu

I didn't include their names specifically in each drabble in case you want to think of someone else maybe :^) these are just some of my headcannons!

puuuuhh I usually write all of my stuff in one sitting, but I actually wrote this over the span of a few days the brain juices were flowing I really got into it, they turned out way longer than I anticipated, but anyway without further ado hope you enjoy

-characters aged up as needed we know the drill-

TW: dacryphilia, degradation, name calling/pet names, bitch, slut, good girl, honey, sweetheart, babe, baby, blowjob, a smidge of angst, comfort, impact play, oral m&f receiving, doggy, mating press, multiple positions, riding, missionary, choking, safe words, overstimulation, lmk if I forgot anything!!

♡featuring: toji, geto, gojo, choso, nanami, yuji, megumi♡

♡masterlist♡

----------------strictly 18+; MDNI------------------

JJk Men making you cry during Sex

fushiguro toji

"Dumb bitch, can't even suck my cock right.", he scoffed and pulled your hair even tighter.

Endure it. Whats up with you today you're usually so into this, but today his words were hitting too close to home. You could feel tears gather and saliva drip onto your sore thighs.

"Damn are you crying? Are you serious?", he laughed. "Does sucking my cock get you off so much? Here take this."

He pulls your face flush against his stomach, with too much force making you gag and shut your eyes.

You tapped his thighs three times ending it with a scratch, your safe word.

"Oh fuck I-"

He cussed before you let out a deep sob covering your face with your shaking hands. You felt so embarassed, runny nose and saliva dripping down your chin.

"Shit, come here." he reached out to you, but you pulled away as soon as his fingers grazed your shoulders. your throat was burning, voice hoarse while you continued crying.

"Y/N."

Hearing your name snapped you out of your distraught state, finally looking at him. He was sitting across from you, one arm spread out while the other was patting his lap signalling for you to come and sit on it. You took a few deep breaths, wiping your face and finally allowing yourself to fall in his embrace.

"Was that too much?"

"I've just been really stressed lately, I thought this would take my mind off of things but i guess I made it worse.", you sighed.

You distracted yourself with playing with his rough palm and thick finders while he continued.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno...", you trailed off when he interlocked your fingers

"Hey, look at me.", he pulled your chin up. "I know I'm usually pretty mean and strict, but I'm not a monster, you know. You can tell me stuff like that. I don't mind vanilla once in a while.", he smirked down at you

"Pft!", was what left your mouth before you elbowed him. "That's good to know. I just didn't want to look weak and sensitive in front of you..."

"That's nothing new you know? I know that in comparison to me you're way- OW"

"Alright, alright mister that's enough. You've cheered me up, don't push it.", you grimaced while pulling his cheeks.

"Yesh, ma'am.", he grinned,bringing his hand to his forehead in a salute.

You let out a sigh. "Just shut up and hold me a bit more.... ", you said while nuzzling your face in his neck

He didn't say another word and just kissed the top of your head, wrapping his strong arms around you.

You got to see a new side to your boyfriend today and it wasn't half bad. You could get used to this soft and caring persona of his.

geto suguru

He's been going at it for what feels like hours. He has eaten you out in every position imaginable. From face sitting to eating you out fron the back he's done it all today. But right now he had you spread out on the bed with your legs draped over his broad shoulders. The way his eyes were eating you up, had you constantly squirm away. The hand that was splayed over your tummy kept you in place, however. Between thrusting his fingers he kept littering your sensitive thighs with bites and sucks.

You were huffing his name, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You looked incredibly attractive to him, the way you were offering your whole body to him. He was getting off to that as much as you were getting off on his tongue and fingers.

Each orgasm that washed over you felt more intense than the previous one. As you were nearing the nth one this night you began smooshing your cunt into his face more aggressively and pulling his hair making him groan. Your squishy thighs felt heavenly around his head and he thought that getting smothered to death would be a fine way to go.

You were starting to sob, tears collecting at your cheeks, making him look up at you. When he was about to pull away and ask if you were okay you pulled him back against you.

"I said don't stop fuuuck!", you whined.

Eyes teary lips bitten swollen, you looked so messy and he knew that making you cry was his new kink. So he just smirked, licked his lips and finger fucked you through another orgasm.

"Fuck fuck fuck!!", your eyes shot open.

When he pulled away he grinned with his tongue sticking out. "Don't worry, we'll he here all night, sweetheart. Cum as much as you want.", he whispered biting along your thigh and kissing your ankle.

gojo satoru

When you first suggested role play he was oddly enthusiastic about it. He became hesitant when you mentioned spanking.

"Wait, babe, are you sure about that?"

"I can take it, you're not that strong.", you rolled your eyes. "And be as nasty and mean as you can. You can do that for me right, big boy?"

"Don't come crying to me later, missy."

The start was good you were taking your punishment well. He was pounding away from behind, pulling your hair in between mean spanks to your reddening cheeks. You were challenging him between every thrust and spank. He was getting ded up with you but tried to stay composed.

"That's all you got?", you mocked. Now he's had it, So he started hitting your thighs and going inwards.

"Wait hold on what are you-? Ah-", you yelped shortly after earning yourself a mean slap to your pussy for all the mockery.

"What's up princess? All that big talk just to look this pathetic.", his words were getting to you way more than you had expected.

"We din't talk about this, asshole ow-", you tried to stay strong.

"Just shut up and take it."

Those words broke the dam and your tears came spilling from your eyes and onto the pillows beneath you. At first he didn't realise those were bad tears as he teased you, "You cryin? C'mon big girls dont cry,? he thought it was part of your role play so he landed another harsh slap on your ass cheek, it stung and you lost it.

"STOP fuck no more...please. I get it. I give up."

"Babe are you alright? Shit. Hey, hey, c'mere.", he turned you around, holding you up by the waist.

As he was wiping away your tears he spoke, "Now that we know you can't handle much. How about a safe word for the future? Maybe purple, hm?"

You didn't like his tone so you pulled his ear

"Aaahhh purple purple", he giggled.

"No, it'll lose meaning if you just say it like that. And just so you know, I'm not weak, you're just way too strong.", you shot him a glare.

"Sorry sorry.", he put his arms up in defeat. After a few soft kisses and hugs he spoke up again.

"Have you calmed down? Wanna go again?", he dared to ask wiggling his eyebrows, which only earned him a slap across his chest

"PURPLE!" he panicked.

"SHUT UP!!!"

choso kamo

From the first time he got to hug you he became painfully aware of the obvious size difference between the two of you. And since then he became deathly afraid of accidentally hurting you. He always tried to controll his strength around you, especially during sex when he bends you however he pleases and pushed you into positions you didn't know you could assume.

He was a gentle giant, however, so imagine his shock when you suggested that he should hurt you on purpose. You know, be a little mean play rough.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Pleeaasee, I know you're always holding back I wanna know how strong you really are.", you purred, sliding a finger across his clothed chest.

"I can't be mean to you.", he dead panned.

"Why not? You're mean to people all the time.", you blinked up at him.

Well, I actually care about you.", he thought to himself but soon gave in to your begging.

Fine, I'll try. But tell me if it gets too much.

"Yaay!! Thanks.", you stood on your tippie toes to peck his cheek.

That's how you found yourself riding him like there was no tomorrow. His cock was hitting you so deliciously deep you were starting to lose your mind. The slaps you asked to give you across your face were lighter than you'd like but beggars can't be choosers. And when he first spanked you, you could feel tears sting your eyes.

He took notice and slowed down his pace.

"Nooo mmh I like it, please, you shook your head, desperately rolling your hips into him.

"Baby look at me? You're crying!! Does it hurt, let's stop, c'mon."

"No not at all, i love it...it feel so ah good. I can feel you all the way up here. Mmh don't stop.", you mewled while pulling his hand to press against your tummy.

Fuck the sight of your pink cheeks and teary eyes did turn him on. It was making him crazy actually.

"Fuck, you have to take responsibility for being so fucking hot.", he growled and you received your long awaited hard spanks.

"Yes, hit me some more, please<3", he swore he saw hearts in your eyes. "Be mean, call me names."

"You slut...", he tried and that had your toes curl and eyes roll back

"Yeah, I'm your fucking slut, just for you. Give it to me more.", you pulled his hand to your mouth to suck on his thick fingers. After placing them on your tits he gave tem a few pinches before grabbing handfulls of your ass. Meanwhile you pressed your chest against his face, essentially drowning him in your swollen tits. You swore you came one step closer to heaven with each thrust against your cervix.

nanami kento

You were currently folded in half with your husband thrusting away at your cunt. You two were practically sticking to each other at this point. He lifted your hips up, putting your feet on his shoulders and holding your legs in place with a strong arm. The new angle made you see stars. After a few thrusts he brought his thick fingers to your swollen clit. The speed of his hips was brutal and the circles he was rubbing with his fingers felt almost painful.

"Wait if you keep that up I'm gonna- oh fuck", you gasped eyes blown wide open.

"Well, that's the whole point honey.", he mused kissing your ankle.

As he continued his ministrations you came with a loud sob, shaking when he kept playing with your clit.

"Shit, no more pleaseee", you tried grabbing his hand, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes.

He only stopped when he saw you cover your face with shaky hands. That was when he finally set your legs down and kissed your hands

"Hey, don't hide. Look at me."

"N-no, I don't want you to see me in such a pathetic state", you cried and tried to squirm away from his burning gaze.

You heard a low chuckle rumble through his chest before he grabbed your hands with one of his, pinning them above your head. He leaned down and caught your lips in a hungry kiss.

"How could you ever look pathetic to me. Do you understand how perfect you look beneath me, hm?" I know that you want to go again.", he mused kissing away your tears abd letting go of your hands.

You gave him a weak nod, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

"Don't worry. This time I'll make you feel even better.", he whispered against your neck before starting to roll his hips into you once more.

itadori yuji

Earlier he was boasting to you that he has been researching how to choke someone the right way. And at first it felt just right, but once he got more and more into snapping his hips into you, low groans leaving his lips, his grip changed. Instead of light pressure that was making your head spin just right, he was almost completely cutting off your airway now.

You tried to adjust in his grip in between high pitched moans and mewls leaving your mouth at how he bullied himself inside you. But to no avail, he just added a second hand. Once you were getting dizzy you tried to mutter your safe word.

"Pine-"

"Pain? You like that, huh? Wow baby I don't now you were such a masochist."

He squeezed you even harder. Your eyes shot open, tears spilling out as you clawed at this firm hand around your neck. You could barely talk.

"PINEAPPLE!", you finally managed to shriek.

His hips immediately came to a halt, pulling out and detaching his huge palms from your neck. he could clearly see the red fingerprints he left behind

"Baby! My god, I'm so sorry are you okay-?"

A loud cough left your mouth, shutting him up. You took a few deep breaths, panic written all over your face and you tried to smooth over the sore area. At first you didn't even notice the tears that kept falling from your eyes, you were to focused to catch your breath again.

He was shocked and so disappointed in himself. He actually hurt you even after all his research.

When you continued to rub your neck, small "ows" left your mouth and that snapped him out of it. He laid down and reached his arms out. you immediately fell into his embrace.

"Sh sh its okay you're safe I'm so sorry", he reassured while gently stroking your hair. You were still shaking but your breathing soon evened out. Your ear was pressed against his chest and you could hear his heart hammering like crazy. A stark contrast to his composed, soothing voice. Must've been shocking to him as well, you thought to yourself before speaking up.

"Yes I'm fine, thank you.", you looked up and pecked his lips.

"Let's never do this again.", he mumbled while squeezing you flush against him.

"No, I did like it at first. You just have to be more careful next time. And please just stick to one hand. One is plenty, you're too strong for your own good.", you chuckled while rubbing your nose against his.

He just hummed and kissed your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up.", he said while sitting up pulling you with him. Before he stood up he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with a soft smile on his face.

fushiguro megumi

You've been dating for a few months now, but the furthest you have gone was a few gentle pecks and light groping. Each time you wanted to take things further, he found an excuse. Until the day came that he invited you over to his.

You were sat on his lap on his bed across while he licked at lour neck and groped your tits. His cock was hitting your cervix with every squirm of your hips. He told you to stay still but it was growing increasingly difficult with each teasing motion.

It was when he moved one of his hands from your breast down to between your legs, that you felt tears swell up.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"No, I love it. It's just I've liked you so much for such a long time. I'm just so happy right now, so don't mind me.", you mumbled, squeezing your eyes together.

"You're so wet for me baby. Do my fingers feel that good hm? Just look at yourself in the mirror."

"Mmh noo it's embarassing", you whined as his fingers sped up.

"Do it for me. Now."

How could you say no to him, when he spoke with that tone and with how his fingers were working wonders. So you reluctantly opened your eyes and saw him staring right back at you.

"Atta girl.", and with those words he began rocking you up and down on his lap. You were so loud and expressive, he loved every second of it.

"Good girl, tell me, who's fucking you so good right now?

"Mmhh, you do. Ah, so good, please don't stop."

Instead of speeding up he pushed your hips down keeping you in place and making you sob. "Beg some more", he huffed while he licked up your neck and dug his teeth into your shoulder.

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Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!<3 Hmu if you have any suggestions for future fics 🙆🏻‍♀️ much love as always MWAH♡