#pers: beyoncé | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amuromi · 9 months

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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ, 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 9.8k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! college!au, minor illness/sickness (heatstroke), semi-established relationship (poly), hurt-comfort, feelings of inadequacy, pet names (baby, baby girl, honey), fingering, oral (m & f!receiving), safe word (not used, just mentioned)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ It’s kinda crazy that Gojo, Geto, and Shoko ended up in the same class because how did jujutsu tech manage to find two special grade sorcerers and a reversed curse technique user all at once. Being in their class would’ve been like Destiny’s Child except everyone but you is Beyoncé.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

A bird swoops lazily overhead. A black dot silhouetted against the white flame of the sun burning overhead. Sheets of heat shimmer off the pavement, tracing out rippling waves in the humid air that wane only in the shade of the trees. Still, spears of sunlight pierce through the leaves, each wavering beam feeling hot as cigarette burns even in the small halo of shadows cast by the outstretched branches. A breeze meanders through the courtyard, doing little to stave off the midsummer heat. Like tossing a single cup of water on a blazing inferno, the reprieve from the heat is only momentary.

If the oppressive heat bothers Shoko, she doesn’t show it. Her face is veiled in a grayish haze as she takes a drag of her cigarette, sinuous threads of smoke curling through the sweltering air. Another breeze limps past with a bit more force, enough to knock the smoldering ash from the end of Shoko’s butt. It lands in her lap, eating a black hole through the cloth of her skirt before she can dust the mess away. A dot of pale skin beams through the deep blue fabric, too big to be salvaged. Shoko gives you an unamused glower when she catches the edge of your stifled laughter, tossing away the remnants of her cigarette to look closely at the damage. She brushes away the last bits of ash before clicking her tongue, sulking over the destruction of a recent purchase.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking on campus…” you hum with just enough amusement to earn you another side-eyed glare. Despite the heat you lean in closer, until your shoulders are touching, so you can whisper in her ear. “Do you want me to buy you a new skirt, honey?”

Shoko matches your sardonic tone, eyes curved into half moons as she mockingly hums. “Fuck off.”

She smells like cigarettes and melon shampoo as another gust of muggy air wafts past, stirring up sparkling particles of pollen that cling to the sheen of sweat shining on your skin. Everything is sticky and overwhelming, but the world shrinks to something more manageable as you tilt your head back, eyes closed to the pinholes of sunlight twinkling through the treetops. Bursts of red play behind your eyelids, vision going bright and hazy when your eyes finally open.

“I’m assuming you’re done for the day?” Shoko asks, nodding to your abandoned weapon as she fishes in her pocket for another cigarette. Yaga-sensei had recently granted you stewardship over a cursed tool from Jujutsu Tech’s extensive armory with explicit instructions to practice before taking the bow on any field missions. Gaudy and ornamental as it is–clearly a show of some past sorcerer’s craftsmanship–the bow carries the ability to hit any target the wielder can imagine. It’s why Yaga-sensei entrusted the weapon to you to begin with. Your infallible memory makes you the perfect user of such a cursed tool. Given enough practice.

It’s been a strenuous task and the courtyard is littered with the fruits of your labor, arrows imbued with trace amounts of cursed energy strewn across the ground.

“It’s better to start small,” is all the advice Yaga-sensei had to give on the matter. Practice, as per his instructions, has been little more than standing in one spot while Shoko went around campus naming off landmarks and collecting the arrows as they hit their target. The torii gate near the dorms, the old well behind the cafeteria, the broken statue near the track field. Your phone battery is nearly depleted from how long she’s been going around the school grounds, giving you new targets through the speaker. The soreness in your arm had been expected given that the bow was sized to someone larger than you, making the draw strength something difficult to contend with on the first few shots. It’s simmered to something tolerable but that still leaves the mental strain it takes to perfectly visualize each location. It’s taxing on the mind, and the beginnings of a headache that could be attributed to heat exhaustion is starting to drum up behind your eyes.

When you don’t offer an answer Shoko brushes her fingers across your forehead, outwardly it seems like she might be brushing the stray hair from your forehead but you recognize the trained calculation behind the simple touch. She wipes your sweat on her ruined skirt and purses her lips. No verbal admonishment comes, but you can tell by her expression exactly what she’s thinking. Estimations of your temperature as it correlates to your current state surely running through her head, but she’s never been one to nag you into submission. Shoko is nothing if not a watchful entity. Simply standing idly while people make decisions, only giving input when asked. Which you haven’t because you can expect a barrage of “I told you so’s” for straining yourself to this point of exhaustion over simple practice. Not a mission, not even a precursor to an aptitude test. Just practice for the sake of honing your skills.

It’s that gnawing sense of perfectionism that has you standing despite Shoko’s skeptical glare. She won’t say it but the medical training in her is clearly showing on her face, frowning as she watches you collect your arrows. They’re still imbued with trace levels of your cursed energy but without the bow they’re only going as far as a normal arrow. The sun beats down on your back, singeing your skin even through the fabric of your shirt every time you stoop over to pick up another arrow. Shoko sighs, muttering something about “always so damn stubborn.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to take a break.” She says. More directly this time. Combat has never been Shoko’s strong suit. Her reversed cursed technique being far more suited to the walls of an infirmary than any active battle. Practice for her is suturing and sterilizing. Nothing like the grueling physical feats you’re expected to endure for the sake of honing your craft. But even still she’s one of the few marvels attending Jujutsu Tech because no one seems to have a stronger aptitude for reversed curse techniques than Shoko. It’s truly unfair that of your four-student class, you’re the least remarkable. It makes you want to work harder, twice as hard as anyone else, to prove you deserve your place here. So instead of slowing down and taking that recommended break, you roll your shoulders and force yourself to focus.

“I took a break.” You did. Because why else would you have been sitting around underneath a tree if not to take a break from the boiling heat that’s melting you down to a paste with the way you’re sweating. Your skin and brain feel like they’re about to liquify and evaporate. But you can’t relax. Even when you sat beside Shoko the feeling of peace was only momentary. The silence brought on by exhaustion only lasted until you gained a second wind strong enough to get you back on your feet, bow in hand despite the way your shooting arm is really starting to ache from the heavy draw weight. You had some experience with using a bow and arrow but it didn’t mean the strength needed to shoot such a massive weapon wasn’t laborious. Still, the dull throb in your arm gives you something to think about that isn’t them. The other two members of Yaga-sensei’s second year class.

Flashes of white and black cross your mind. Abstract, undefined. Not enough to draw your mind away from your next target: the dead tree in the far corner of the courtyard. Should you shoot facing away or try aiming upwards, towards the sky? An ordinary arrow would fly straight up, perhaps get snatched off course by the wind, but no matter the direction you shoot, an arrow shot from this bow will always hit its mark. You feel the cursed energy singing through your hand as you nock your arrow.

“That wasn’t a break. You sat down for two seconds.” Shoko rolls her eyes as she watches you draw the bow. “I know you said you’re fine, but–”

“I am!” You say too quickly. Shoko frowns at your insistence. “I just…” You struggle to come up with an explanation for your erratic behavior that doesn’t start and end with the anxiety burning like acid in your stomach. Stinging and simmering as it spreads through your nerves, leaving you with nothing to say in your defense. You hazard a shrug, hoping your indecision will mollify Shoko. It doesn’t and she levels you with an expectant tilt of her head.

“It’s stupid.” And it is. Because how can you explain that you feel like an imposter in a school with such a rigorous entrance exam? They wouldn’t have let you in if you weren’t worth the trouble of teaching and you know that, yet you still can’t shake the feelings of inadequacy. Not when you’re learning in the shadow of the two most promising sorcerers of the modern era. And it doesn’t help that in your bid to be more like them, you’ve gone and gotten yourself far too involved. What started out as you probably being a bit of a nuisance–always close, underfoot like a puppy–turned into them seeking out your company once you realized the desperation could be dialed back a bit. In trying to seem uninteresting after following them for so long, you made yourself easy to miss. Because, of course, they’d notice if the person always standing in their shadow up and disappeared.

Now, you’re tangled in a web of their making. A fly struggling beneath the watchful eyes of those spiders keeping you close. It feels suffocating, like chains tightening around you every moment you let yourself slip deeper into the oddity that is your relationship with the Special Grade sorcerers. Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru. Even thinking of their names has started to spike your pulse with anxiety. And “relationship” is too charitable a word for the arrangement you have with them, seeing as you’re little more than an accessory, something to be added and removed at a whim. A cage of your own making. It’s what you get for always trailing after them like their talents would pass through their air and cling to you, make you worth more than you are. Now you’re here. Always at an arm’s length. Never closer and never further, held firmly in a place they can always reach you regardless of your own conflicting feelings.

It had been fun at first, to know they wanted you in their lives, in their bed. Although, the newness of the physical arrangement wore off quickly. Now it feels like the tenuous bond has degraded beyond what it had been even when you were nothing more than a tenacious classmate. Before you’d been acquaintances, maybe even friends, but now it feels like you’re something less than even that. A person to pass in the halls and accompany on missions. It stings at your pride to know you only lasted a year. Chewed up and spit out now that your second year classes have reached the halfway mark, a break between semesters fast approaching.

“Can’t be that stupid if it’s bothering you,” Shoko says patiently, lighting up another cigarette. She takes a deep drag as she waits for you to shuffle through your thoughts, landing on the least offensive truth you can offer.

“I want to break up with Gojo and Geto.” It’s hard to break something that was built on shaky foundations to begin with, but it’s the best you can come up with without explaining the winding ins and outs of your strange situationship with the men in question. Because Shoko–hell, everyone–thinks the three of you are dating. Like a proper relationship. A happy crowd of three. Shoko blinks through the haze of smoke streaming from between her lips before nodding pensively.

“You can try.”

It’s something ominous, though Shoko looks a bit miffed about having to be the one to tell you. Like you should know better than to even consider something like that. The words settle like cold stones in your chest. Heavy and shivering despite the heat still bearing down through the clouds. She goes to sit back in the shade, pulling out her phone to text someone. You ignore the tap-tap-tapping of her keyboard in favor of pulling back your bow string again, aiming at a cloud passing overhead. The arrow shoots up, before winking out of sight with a faint glittering burst, like a flash of light off the edge of a blade. It lands in the trunk of the dead tree with a dull thud. And because you can and it’s something to cut through the cluttered thoughts, you keep shooting. Landing arrows around the courtyard because you’re too tired to go through the ordeal of hunting up every arrow if you go back to shooting them around campus.

“I think that’s enough for today.” A new voice rings through the courtyard, distinct enough to distract you. A face cropping up unbidden in your mind’s eye, thoughts of the people you’ve been spending your afternoon avoiding springing up like weeds in a garden. Blue eyes and dark bangs invade your thoughts and you lower the bow before you can send an arrow into someone’s head. If you lacked discipline, were more easily startled, you might’ve shot before your reflexes caught the mistake in your mental visualization. Gojo would be fine with his infinity but Geto has no such barriers protecting him from unforeseen projectiles. Red covers white and black as you imagine the arrow piercing through his skull.

“I’m fine.” It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Now that Geto is standing in front of you, your mind has turned to tangles once more. Your usually calm and collected thoughts knotting up on themselves. He and Gojo scramble your brain in a way no one should be able to, like a radio losing signal and turning to static. It makes you want to give up on the endeavor of loosening the mess with slow, careful consideration. Quicker to cut out the tangles and be done with it. White threads. Black threads. Snip them all and watch the tension unravel.

“You shouldn’t be practicing outside like this when it’s so hot. When’s the last time you took a break?”

“I took a break!” Shoko doesn’t offer support when you look to her to corroborate the half-truth. Instead the fledgling doctor shoves her phone in her bag and you realize the betrayal. It must’ve been Geto she was texting. Shoko isn’t the type to share anything she’s told in confidence, so there’s no worry that she mentioned anything you said to him, but she must’ve said something to raise a flag in his mind if he showed up so quickly. Shoko dusts the dirt from the back of her skirt before drifting past the two of you, murmuring about going home as she leaves you alone with your not-boyfriend.

For all her nonchalance, Shoko is quite perceptive. A trail of smoke follows after her as she retreats, effectively extracting herself from the equation before she becomes a factor in a fight. Because that’s all you and the boys seem to do anymore. Over nonsense. About you training too hard and them treating you like something that needs protection. Or perhaps it’s just you fighting. Spitting and clawing like a caged animal because that’s how they make you feel. Small and weak and trapped.

Even from a distance, Geto is overwhelming and it has your hackles raising before he says anything more.

“I took a break.” You bite out, hoping your attitude will ward him off. “Now let me practice.” Unfortunately, Geto won’t give you the satisfaction of being done with the conversation just because you’re feeling a bit angry.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” There’s that edge of concern you’ve come to know so well. That softness in his voice that sounds almost patronizing, like you’re not aware of your own body’s limits. It makes you sink deeper into your irritation.

“Yeah,” you scoff, “because I’m some weak Grade One sorcerer.”

“I didn’t say that. Stop putting words in my mouth.” Quieter, to himself, he mutters about how you and Satoru are just alike, “so fucking stubborn.”

“If you overwork yourself you’ll get hurt. I’m just worried about you.” And there it is. He’s worried. Thinking about you in a way you’ve never had to think about them. As something weak and needing a watchful eye to keep them safe. Gojo and Geto are literally the strongest sorcerers of the new generation. No one has ever had to worry about them. And if they have–you have, though you’ll never admit it–it’s a wasted effort. They return from every mission almost completely unscathed. Only as ruffled as a few hairs out of place because Geto is lethal without having to manifest his collection of curses, and nothing can touch Gojo without his permission. The memories of him letting you go beyond that barrier of infinity crop up unbidden in your mind and it makes you fit another arrow on your bowstring. Burns are starting to form where the bow chafes at your fingers but you pull back the string again, deciding to shoot another arrow dead ahead with no other target in mind.

“Don’t worry about me.” The words sound empty even to your own ears. Because as much as you crave your own type of recognition, want to prove that you’re not the weakest–most useless–second year student, you like knowing that you have their attention. Something like if you can’t beat them, join them. You’ll never surpass Gojo or Geto’s abilities but you’ve still earned their approval in a way no one else has. Even if it’s all balanced on a precarious edge. So close but so far. They have each other, and then you. They could take it all away in a second and sometimes you wish they would. It would save you the ordeal of being seen as the bad guy for cutting ties with them when everyone knows how attached the three of you are. If you aren’t with Shoko you’re with them and seeing any of you alone is a rare occurrence. It’s something you’ll have to get used to because losing them might mean losing everyone. Shoko doesn’t seem to think it’s possible but what if you prove her wrong?

Another shot hits its target. What if you’re wrong?

Geto sighs, real loud like he has a right to be upset. Like his mind is anywhere near as hoarded yet empty as yours. The thought of leaving makes you feel light with released anxiety and heavy with the guilt of betrayal. All at once. Too many knots. Too many thoughts. The bow falls to the wayside as you press your hands to your head, trying to will away the pain stabbing behind your eyes. Headache–maybe heatstroke–made worse by all the stress Geto’s caused just by existing near you. You lean down, hands grabbing vaguely at the ground, smacking blindly across the pavement until you find your bow.

The sun is bleaching everything bright white and it’s hard to see even with your eyes squinted against the throbbing pain and stabbing light. The arrows are abandoned, far too many strewn about to be of concern at the moment. Right now, all you want to do is get away from Geto. Go somewhere where he isn’t and recollect your thoughts. Somewhere inside, with water and air conditioning. Your footsteps are staggered, legs feeling more like melting wax than anything solid beneath you.

Move, you try to say, go away. It’s a slurred groan but you shoulder past Geto anyway. Or, at least, you try to. Instead you bounce off of the solid planes of his body. It sends you stumbling in another direction, so quick that your vision begins to dip and swirl like looking through water. There’s the vague sound of something warped and panicked but mostly it sounds like you’re underwater. Everything is shimmering black and blue for a moment before even that fades to nothing.

It’s cold. Not a bitter kind of cold but something chilled and pleasant, made less frigid by a vague sort of warmth wrapped around you to stave off the biting edge of the water. Everything is tepid and dim as goosebumps prickle up your arms. The budding shivers are chased away by gentle hands soothing over your damp skin. It’s enough to shock you to full attention after lingering in the soft ether between sleep and wakefulness. Water sloshes around you, splashing over the side of the tub as you bolt upright, hands gripping the edge of the porcelain as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. The last memories you have are steeped in searing heat and blinding light, pinched with pain as the sun leached away at you. The sun is gone now, replaced with the milky white light of the moon. It spills through the open window, highlighting the sharp edges of marble and chrome; the expensive appliances of a luxury apartment.

Hands tease at your waist, pulling softly to coax you back to where you’d been laying against their chest. You know Gojo just by touch. It’s a privilege few are afforded now that he’s developed a mastery of his infinity, yet here he is wrapping his arms over your stomach to keep you close to his chest. His heart beats steadily against your spine, a consistent metronome that clashes with the anxious skipping of your own pulse. The headache that had been pounding away at your skull like a hammer and chisel is gone, replaced with the sound of your blood rushing in your ear as each subtle touch of Gojo’s fingers tracing against your skin sends you reeling.

Lips find the tip of your ear, then the edge of your jaw before settling against your pulse fluttering in your throat. His silence is nearly as deafening as your racing heart. It’s so strange to find Gojo so quiet as he presses feather-light kisses into your skin. A damp hand presses into your forehead. There’s a faint hum and then a sigh before his slender fingers drift over your eyes. His lips are at your ear again, the feeling of his breath rushing over your skin making you shiver in his arms.

“Stop thinking.” His voice is unexpectedly harsh, like he’s angry with you, and it only makes you think harder. It’s obvious you’re in his apartment but the spaces in between point A and point B are blurred, a staccato rush of images flickering in and out of focus. You were at school and then suddenly you weren’t. Last you remember, you were with Geto. Near Geto. Trying to get away from him. And now you’re naked in a tub with Gojo, and he’s upset with you. He says it again, “Stop. Thinking.”

Because you value your sanity, or what little shred of it you have left, you really do try to calm your racing thoughts but it’s so hard with him so close. And he won’t let you go. His hand stays over your eyes, pinning your focus on him and him alone. His voice. His skin. His anger. Because no matter how much Gojo tries to mask his emotions with a veneer of humor it’s always painfully clear when he’s upset. At least to you. His voice gets lower and his smiles get tighter. Every word that comes off his tongue now is graveled with restraint and it only works to further scramble your mind. Makes you anxious at the unknown. The feeling of being caught in a web springs to life again as his fingertips dance over your stomach, slender fingers feeling like the legs of a spider tying you up in its web. It gets your breaths quickening until you can’t fill your lungs fast enough, heaving and gasping as you grab at the edge of the tub, trying to pull yourself away from him again.

Let go. Let go. Let. Go!

It’s a mantra marching through your head until he lets you free at last, so quickly that you go spilling over the side of the bathtub. The tiles are cold and unsympathetic and you yelp as your knees land hard against the marble. Gojo watches you, blue eyes almost glowing in the dimness of the moonlight. You scramble gracelessly to your feet, snatching up the first towel your hand touches as you rush to be away from him. Today was meant to be spent in seclusion. Away from Gojo. Away from Geto. Yet you’ve been pushed towards both of them like a compass leading you north because Geto is just beyond the bathroom door, on Gojo’s bed.

It’s brighter in the bedroom, lit by the bedside lamp as Geto looks up from his book. It’s set aside quickly in favor of moving towards you. With each step he takes you find yourself drifting towards the door. Your clothes are nowhere in sight and the towel you grabbed hardly offers enough coverage for you to flee back to your dorm in, but the alternative of staying here, with them, is wholly unappealing. Just the thought of spending another moment with them ties knots in your stomach.

Nervous. They make you so nervous. So anxious about every facet of your existence. They won’t say it but you can see it in the way they treat you like something left over. Something to dote on when they’re done focusing on each other. It was nice at the start because you could pretend you weren’t bothered, but now it’s all you see. A divided front. You. And them. With such an obvious split, it’s only fair that you should have the choice to break free completely. Screw what Shoko said. Of course, they’d let you go. They hardly have you to begin with. But all that bravery evaporates the second your back hits the wall, cornered under Geto’s watchful eyes.

“Back up,” you breathe, not daring to look him in the eyes. His hair is loose, sweeping over his shoulders to curtain your face as he leans his head against yours. All he says is, “no.”

“Please, back up, Geto.” He’s always preferred manners and you try to sound docile even as your voice starts to shake. You feel him shake his head. No, again.

“S’not my name.” His hands trace up your shoulders, thumbs brushing against your neck before hooking under your jaw to make you look at him. Slowly he asks, “What’s my name?”

“Suguru.” It’s something weak and scratchy as your throat tries to close around each syllable but he hums like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. The meager croak is echoed as Gojo emerges from the bathroom with Geto’s name on his tongue. There’s a dozen unspoken thoughts in that single word, all of which Geto seems to recognize in an instant.

“She’s fine, I got her. Always.” Geto says like you’re a dog that tried to bolt the moment the front door was left open. And despite how insistent you’d been earlier, and how easily Geto said it now, you’re not fine. Truly, you’re the farthest thing from it, and their hovering is making it worse. They usher you towards the bed and you’re perched on the edge as they crowd in around you.

There’s too much skin involved. With your clothes missing you’re left in a towel, clutching it to your chest to lessen even a modicum of the vulnerability you feel with both men staring down at you. Geto reaches to brush a strand of hair away from your face and you shrink back. His hand falls away but it only leaves space for Gojo to come closer.

“Stop touching me.” Gojo hums like he didn’t hear you even as his lips find the furrowed space between your brows, lined taut with tension beneath the softness of his mouth.

“Stop touching me!” Your voice is cracked and edged with hysteria but it works well enough to get them to give you even just a moment to think. Steadying breaths rattle in your chest as you try to pluck up the courage to look at them. Geto catches your eye first because he’s the easiest to look at. His face has always been more guarded, more neutral, than the telegraphing billboard that is Gojo and his big blue eyes. Your thoughts are already so scattered and looking at him will only make it worse. Geto tilts his head as if he’s weighing each thought in his mind.

“What’s wrong?” His tone is cold. Stripped of that usual affection drawl, Geto’s voice sounds almost angry. Somehow it’s everything and nothing that you wanted to hear. Anger will make this easier. If they’re frustrated and bitter it will be easier to cut ties. Still, hearing how detached he sounds makes something inside you crack.

“Let’s break up.” In all your imaginings there was anger. Shouting and fighting, though never begging. You couldn’t imagine you’d be worth the loss of even a shred of dignity to them. Why would they lower themselves to beg you to stay? But instead of anger, your words are met with laughter.

Quiet at first and then louder as Gojo nearly doubles over with how hard he’s laughing. As if you weren’t even worth the effort to get upset. He couldn’t even muster a single harsh word. Instead he’s laughing and the familiar sound is like salt over soil, withering your resolve. The heat of your desperation simmers to something cold and shriveled in the wake of his poorly stifled amusement.

“Stop it!” It’s small and petulant but he quiets down almost instantly, as if he hadn’t been giggling just a moment before. All the mirth drains from his face and turns to something blank and menacing, blue eyes flashing in the low light. You say his name hesitantly, suddenly unsure of yourself, and his eyes narrow.

“Try again.” He’s as insistent as Geto that you call him by his given name. You’re far too close to be playing at calling them by their surnames, as if they’re just passing acquaintances and not your supposed partners.

Softly, you say his name, “Satoru.”

“That’s right, baby. You know my name. Tell me again. Say my name.” He’s getting in close again, face so close to yours that you can’t see anything but him. Pure white hair, clear blue eyes. He’s smiling again. Something coy and teasing as he waits for you to say what he wants to hear. He hears it once then says, “Again.” And again and again as he leans in closer with each murmur of his name until his lips are sealed over yours and his name is only a breath shared between shallow kisses.

“You know my name, baby,”–he spares another kiss–“so call me by it. I’m not some random guy for you to be calling Gojo. Never have been. Never will be.” The latter declaration sounds almost threatening, and it reminds you that you just tried to sever this bond of familiarity between the three of you. Yet here he is telling you it will never be that easy. Why can’t it be? How entrenched are you in their lives that you can’t walk out just as quickly as you came? Time spent with them is sparing between missions. Today has been a seldom quiet moment to yourself between field work and neither of them had come to see you until Shoko went and planted that seed of doubt with Geto.

“We’re not together now,” you try to insist upon your previous request. “It would be strange to call you by your name. We hardly see each other. Wouldn’t people think it’s weird if I addressed you so casually?”

“You know that’s not true.” Geto says, thumb pressed against his brow. A habit of his that spells out his frustration as clearly as any words could.

“Majority rules.” Gojo teases. “You’re not leaving us so you better quit bringing it up before we think you’re serious.”

“I am serious!” You feel Gojo laughing at you more than you hear it. The steady rumbling in his chest as he pulls you to lay beside him on the rumpled sheets. He kisses the tip of your nose and chuffs out an amused “nah,” as if his words are enough to void your own.

“What’s your safeword, baby?” Geto asks from the foot of the bed. The suddenness prompts you to answer quickly, an ingrained instinct drawing the word “cloudy” off your tongue. Geto hums and touches your ankle. His fingers aren’t as delicate as Gojo’s. There’s more weight behind even the lightest touch as his fingertips find the jut of your bone before drifting higher, raising goosebumps on your exposed legs. He climbs onto the bed, hand lingering on your skin as he looks down at you.

“What’s wrong, baby? The truth this time.”

“I want to break up. That’s all.” It feels like a lie when you’re confronted with Geto’s piercing gaze. Gojo scoffs from his place nuzzled against the column of your neck, lips pressing hot kisses against your fluttering pulse.

Geto presses further. “Why?”

Why? As if you had to justify your desire for distance when it’s all they’ve been treating you with. A constant reminder that you’re different, separate. They’re doing it even now, minimizing your words to nothing even as you try desperately to get them to understand that you’re serious. It’s like they’re keeping you on a leash and you’re tugging at your lead, begging to be set free.

“It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“Easier, how?” Gojo asks as he traces over the shape of your collarbones above the cover of your towel.

“No one will have to pretend anymore.”

“Who’s pretending? ’Cause it sure as hell ain’t me.” Gojo snaps, arms cinching tighter around your waist.

“You been lying to us, baby, is that it?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “Our girl’s been playing with our feelings, huh, Suguru?”

“That’s what I’m hearing.” Geto agrees.

That’s not true. If anyone’s been lying, it’s them. Treating you so sweet when it’s plain to see the only people that matter to them is each other. They’ve always been together until you stumbled along, weak and starry-eyed. Wholly intent on earning your place in a group of such skilled sorcerers. They doted on you, taught you, loved you, but how truthful can a love borne of pity be. You’re a kicked puppy limping along behind them and it’s taken you this long to realize how truly pathetic you’ve been. Training makes a sorcerer, not trailing behind in a race you’ll never win. Chasing the backs of two people you can never hope to reach. It’s cruel of them to pretend you were ever someone worthy of being beside them. It was never going to be you and it makes you wonder how long they planned to let you live in this delusion.

“I’m not the one lying.” It’s quiet, barely the wisp of a sound, but they hear it. Gojo sits up quickly, pulling you with him so that he and Geto can pin you between them once more.

“So it’s us?” Gojo bites, voice grated with anger. “You think we’re lying about our feelings. You think we don’t love you?” It’s better that you can’t see him as he kneels behind you, chin hooked over your shoulder, but there’s nothing shielding you from Geto’s endlessly dark glare. His head tilts, bangs sweeping over his eyes as he stares down at you with a harsh set to his lips.

“Who said that, baby? Who told you we didn’t love you?” When you shake your head, Geto scoffs.

“Don’t tell me you made up that lie yourself.” Gojo grunts. “You got lost in that pretty little head of yours and decided we don’t love you anymore, is that it?” His hand is over your eyes again, turning the world dark. It’s something he’s always done, covering your eyes like putting a blanket over a cage. It forces your mind to quiet, to focus on less. A habit you assume he developed as an extension of his own.

He dampens his Six Eyes with blindfolds and tinted glasses, so of course he’d know exactly how to quiet your mind when it starts to race out of control. Your hands lift towards your face, uncertain if you want to move his hand or hold it closer. Your fingertips rest against his skin, not pushing, not pulling, but without your arms against your sides the towel slowly comes loose to pool around your waist. Warm hands are quick to chase away the chill of the room as Geto’s fingers brush against your ribs, Gojo’s free hand settling lower on your waist. They both move in closer until you’re locked between their bodies. Gojo at your back and Geto against your chest. The latter lifts your hips, pushing the towel aside completely as he pulls you into his lap. You can’t see him through Gojo’s hand, but you’re sure Geto is staring at you, gaze likely steeped in disappointment.

It reminds you of what Shoko had said, “You can try.” And this is your reward for the effort. Trying suggests a margin of error for failure, and you’ve failed spectacularly. Undressed and caught between the two of them, feeling their hands against your naked body as they try to convince you to stay.

“You’re wrong, pretty girl,” Gojo hums, cheek pressed up against your ear as he leans over your shoulder. His voice comes from all around you. Humming through your spine and over your shoulders as the soft timbre comes up from his chest and settles as a low draw in his throat. You hear it nearly echoing in your ear as his mouth ghosts over your skin. He’s so close, hand still guarding your eyes from seeing anything beyond his skin. He’s got you surrounded and it’s only made more overwhelming as Geto moves in closer until you can feel his breath against your lips. His face is different from Gojo’s as he nuzzles against you. The white haired man is made up of straighter edges–a slim jaw and sharp nose–to match the deceptive softness he presents to the world, like a blade hidden in a sleeve. Geto is comparatively more broad, all brute strength and heavy hands as he presses his nose against yours.

They’re being gentle. You can feel it in the way their muscles move beneath their skin, tensing and curling with controlled strength. They’re so strong and you feel like a feather caught between two rocks as they press against you, woefully inferior and easily brushed aside. Still they don’t allow you to float away. Both of them press close to keep you exactly where they want you. Lips find your skin. Warmth blooms across the curve of your shoulders and up the column of your neck as soft pecks graze your parted lips. There’s nothing heady or frenzied about this moment. It’s less feverish than you’re used to, yet there’s no absence of emotion because being between them has always been fraught with passion. A hand trails across your chest, settling over the steadying thrum of your heartbeat, and you realize belatedly that they’re going slow for your sake. Just a moment ago you’d been overwrought with panic and each of their glancing touches works to bleed the tension out of your body.

“Still with us?” Geto asks. He and Gojo always seem to move in tandem. Geto’s hand has only just started to tip your head up to meet his gaze when Gojo’s hand finally slips away from your eyes. You must say something in the affirmative because Geto hums, thumb brushing over your lips before he looks over your shoulder at Gojo. Something unspoken passes between them in the briefest glance and then you’re moving, getting dragged into Gojo’s chest as he sits up against the headboard with you between his legs. His towel has been brushed aside as well, leaving only Geto clothed. He evens the odds a fraction by pulling his shirt off, ruffling his hair so it falls messily around his face. Pretty.

Geto scoff, “Now you have something nice to say, baby?” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud but they both seem amused if not a bit mollified by the slip of your tongue.

“Our boy is pretty, isn’t he?” Gojo asks, shifting his hips until you can feel the length of his approval pressed against the small of your back. Wet and hot, leaking and throbbing against the base of your spine as his hands press against your stomach to pull you impossibly closer.

“Gentle.” Geto reminds him, eyes fixed on the way Gojo’s fingers are making impressions in the softness of your skin. Any harder and he’d start to leave bruises but Gojo knows better. Geto wouldn’t let him hold you hard enough to break and Gojo himself is far too aware of his own strength to ever lose control like that.

“M’always gentle,” he says against the nape of your neck, the sentiment nearly lost as his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin. A shiver skitters down your spine, skin dotted with goosebumps as his tongue soothes the faint sting his teeth left behind.

“I know you are,” Geto agrees, reaching past your shoulder to touch Gojo. The man nearly purrs, a soft chuckling noise vibrating against your skin as his tongue tastes where your pulse is rushing in your throat.

“We’re always gentle with you, aren’t we, baby girl?” Geto’s eyes are on you now. The pitiful little “yeah,” you manage to squeeze out around the lump in your throat hardly qualifies as an answer. But they are, and isn’t that the worst part? They’re so gentle with you like they know you’re too weak to handle them unbridled, like you’re wrapped in caution tape and stamped with stickers marking you as fragile. Weak. It’s embarrassing that even in their most vulnerable state they’re more than you could ever hope to handle.

“Our girl.” Gojo sighs. The strongest sorcerer of the new generation and yet his touch is so gentle it seems almost hesitant as one hand moves away from your waist to dip between your legs. He echoes the whimpering sound you make as the pads of his fingers brush against your clit, seemingly reveling in the way your body tenses as he traces gentle shapes against the sensitive bud. His touches are fleeting, teasing, hardly enough as he pants against your shoulder. Geto’s hands smooth up the inside of your thighs, thumbing against the muscles as he spreads your legs wider for Gojo to touch. His second hand comes away from your waist to join the first, teasing at your fluttering heat before sinking a singular finger inside. He groans louder than you do, mumbling against your dampening skin about “so wet, baby,” as he works his finger inside you, adding another and another as he stretches you out with each curling thrust of his fingers.

Geto seems content to watch, thumbing soft circles against the shaking muscles of your thighs as Gojo takes his time loosening you around his fingers.

“You’re making a mess, baby girl.” Geto teases. You can feel it. Gojo is frustratingly good at everything he does and this is no exception. He’s winding you up tight as he hooks his fingers against that spot inside you that has you keening and arching away from his chest. There’s the faint sound of a protest, a groaning “no!” as Gojo’s body follows yours, not letting you put any distance between you.

“Be nice,” Geto laughs, pushing against your sternum until your back is against Gojo’s chest once more. Once you’re settled his hand trails to your nipple, brushing against the pert bud before the heat of his mouth swallows your breast. His tongue laves over your skin, leaving a glossy wet trail across your chest as he nips and licks at your breasts. It’s all overwhelming. The heat of two bodies against yours, reflecting the warmth of your own. Sweat gathers where Gojo is panting against your neck, lashes tickling your cheek as he looks down as where Geto is leaving faint marks against your skin. Your hips shift, trying to shy away from the mounting pleasure but Geto’s hold on your thigh is unflinching and only works to push you further into Gojo’s lap. You can feel the latter grinding against you, cock drooling against your skin as he grinds against your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” Gojo’s whining now, in that same breathy way he does whenever he’s at the edge of cumming. “You close, baby, gonna cum for me?” His fingers work faster inside you, rubbing real nice against your clit as he babbles a mantra of “cum, baby, please, please, cum,” in your ear. You do because they don’t give you much of a choice with the way they’re hitting all your weak spots at once. Just one of them is enough to override your senses, but together they all but melt your brain until your thighs are shaking and you’re staining the sheets with how hard you’re cumming. Gojo doesn’t let up on your clit but he pulls his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly slick sound to fumble for his cock. Geto helps, lifting you higher so Gojo can slot his cock against your pussy. He leans forward like he’s trying to wrap himself around you, rutting feverishly against your wet heat and whining when he doesn’t end up inside you. Geto seems to take pity on him, brushing Gojo’s hand aside to stroke his flushed cock soaked with a mix of both of you.

“I got you, baby.” Geto hums, leaning over to kiss Gojo. With the way they’re meeting in the middle, just over your shoulder, you can hear every sound they make with frustrating clarity. Every little groan Gojo makes as Geto kisses him. It’s loud and sloppy and you feel spit dappling your shoulder when they pull apart, joining the sweat already beading on your skin.

Geto murmurs, “You too, baby girl,” before enveloping you in a kiss of your own. His tongue finds yours easily, coaxing you into a deeper kiss as he groans against your mouth. He kisses you like he’s trying to swallow you whole, to consume every part of you. It’s startling and grounding all at once. A kiss like that can’t be fake. It eases a bit of tension from your body and Geto feels it, humming against your mouth as he pulls away, a faint smile on his lips. He kisses you again only briefly before moving lower, dappling your skin in warm kisses before he settles on his stomach with his head between your legs. He gives Gojo’s cock a few more teasing strokes before wrapping his lips around his swollen length. Behind you, Gojo keens, wrapping his arms tight around you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. Geto’s eyes are on you as he swallows Gojo’s dick.

“Fuck,” Gojo shivers against your back. “Wish I could see him. Tell me what he looks like, baby. What does our boy look like between our legs?” It’s an odd request if only because Gojo can see so much. Yet here he is relying on your vision to tell him what he can’t see.

“S’pretty,” you tell him, “so pretty.”

“Yeah,” Gojo agrees instantly. “Yeah, our boy is so pretty. Fuck, Suguru!”

“He’s taking you so well.” Geto hums at the praise and Gojo whines behind you, hips jerking up. Geto’s hands settle on your thighs once more, gripping like he needs something to focus on while he’s taking Gojo’s cock to the hilt. You lay a shaking hand on his head, fingers carding through his soft hair, pulling it away from his face as he blinks up at you.

“So pretty, Suguru.” He pops off of Gojo’s dick at the sound of his name on your tongue, shifting forward until his lips are wrapped around your clit. Your hand tightens in his hair, unsure if you want to pull him away or guide him closer as the simmering sting of overstimulation slowly bleeds through your body. He decides for you, pulling away far too soon and dragging you up with him. You fall against his chest as he nods for Gojo to move. You’re laid out in the space he leaves as Geto shoves his pants down his thighs.

There’s a wet spot on the fabric from where his cock has been leaking in its confines, precum beading on the flushed head. Gojo is quick to clean up the mess, kissing the tip of Geto’s cock and taking him halfway down his throat. Geto groans, tossing his head back in a wave of glossy black hair as he takes Gojo’s mouth with a few short thrusts before pulling the blue eyed man off of him. He keeps his hand in Gojo’s hair, guiding him up to his knees to kiss him again. There’s a peek of tongue between their mouths and it has your thighs pressing together just watching them kneeling over you.

“Want you,” Geto breathes against Gojo’s lips, hardly parted from their kiss. “I don’t care how, jus’ want you.” An approving hum follows as Gojo lays himself on top of you, hips slotted against your.

“Lift up,” he murmurs, sliding a pillow under your hips as he grinds his throbbing cock against you. “Feels so good, baby.” He whines. When he leans in to kiss you, there’s desperation sparkling in his eyes. He’s kissing you hard enough to push your head back into the mattress, nipping and licking like he’s trying to pour everything he can into the press of your mouths. His body is pressed against yours in every way he can manage. Fingers threaded with yours as your hearts beat in feverish tandem, hips pressed flush as Gojo grinds against you. There’s the vague sound of a cap popping then a pitiful whine against your mouth as Geto’s hand finds Gojo’s hip, holding him still as he presses a lubed finger inside Gojo. He melts in an instant, squirming and whining as Geto keeps him steady with a hand on the small of his back. He takes his time with Gojo, letting him relax into the feeling and stalling when he whines about it being too much. By the time Geto is satisfied with how prepared Gojo is, the latter is stumbling over his words, babbling about “please, I want it, please, please!” with his hips caught between you and Geto. He can’t seem to decide exactly what he wants but Geto does it for him, leaning against his back as he strokes his dick.

“You want it?” Geto teases, nosing at the hollow behind Gojo’s ear. The white hair man nods, face drawn in desperation as he ruts into Geto’s fist. “What do you want, baby boy?” Geto asks as he drags the head of Gojo’s throbbing cock through your wet folds.

“Inside!” Gojo’s voice cracks with the volume of his desperation. Geto chuckles and kisses his shoulder.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He hums, guiding Gojo inside you. His shaking stills in an instant as he melts against you.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. “It’s so warm inside. Squeezing me so tight, fuck!” His babbling only devolves further as Geto presses inside him, nearly incoherent as he writhes between your bodies. The strongest sorcerer reduced to a whimpering mess before you, because of you. There’s something reassuring about it as you brush Gojo’s damp hair away from his eyes, tasting the salt of his sweat as you kiss his forehead. He can barely return the affection, nuzzling against your cheek as Geto pulls back to start fucking him in earnest. Gojo finds his rhythm pinned between the two of you, rutting into you whenever Geto pulls away. His fingers are back on your clit, making a mess between your prone bodies as he tries to rush you towards the edge. He’s already shaking and whining, teetering on the edge of pleasure from all of Geto’s attention.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Geto huffs. There’s a nod and a litany of words spilling from Gojo’s lips that sound like “m’close,” as his hand grabs Geto’s thigh to pull him closer. Gojo grinds against his cock, fingers not letting up on your clit as he makes himself cum on Geto’s dick.

“Good boy.” Geto coos, hands soothing against Gojo’s waist as he shivers. He’s close, you can tell by the way his hips are stuttering, balls tightening as they smack against your skin. He cums hard, body going rigid as he spills inside you. Still, even when he’s finished he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Bright blue eyes stay locked on the frothy mess seeping out around his cock until Geto gets him to pull away. His cock is soft and flushed between his legs, strings of your shared arousal staining his skin as Geto lays him down beside you. Gojo is quick to cling, slinging an arm across your waist as his head settles against your shoulder like he can’t bear to part from you for even a moment. His hand seeks out yours, twining your fingers as Geto fills the space Gojo left inside you. He chuckles at the wet sound it makes as he sinks inside you, hair curtaining your face as he leans down to kiss you.

“Feel so good, baby girl. So fucking good. Can’t believe you wanted to take this away from us.” He groans as he sinks into your heat. Gojo had gotten you to the edge, wound you up near to snapping, and Geto doesn’t seem keen on giving you a moment to relax. His hips grind against yours with startling intensity, like he’s fucking all his anger into you.

“Tryin’ to leave us like we don’t fucking adore you. You don’t even realize how much we need you, do you?” He grits out. They need you? It sounds inconceivable, and yet here you are. In Gojo’s bed, with Geto losing himself inside you. Who else has been allowed to see them like this?

“You’re good, baby.” Gojo whispers. “So strong and so kind. We gotta be gentle with you, can’t let you get tarnished and jaded the way we have. Gotta keep our girl protected and happy for as long as we can.” He kisses your ear.

“We’ve seen so much,” Geto pants. “Can’t let you end up like us.” Somewhere in his soft groans there’s a promise, a vow to keep you away from the things they’ve seen. It makes something come loose in your chest, a tension unraveling at last as tears prick at the edge of your vision. It’s a sorcerer’s job to protect and they were protecting you. All this distance and turmoil you’ve been suffering because they want to protect you. Not because you’re weak but because they’re strong. You’ve heard whispers of the things that happened while they were in high school, things you’d never wish on your worst enemy. Gojo had died somewhere in their second year. Of course they want to keep you behind them, a wall between you and the cruelness of their world as Special Grades. Your vision swims with tears as you pull Geto into a kiss, mumbling out sniffling apologies.

“M’sorry, m’sorry! I just wanted you to take me seriously. It always feels like I’m an afterthought when it comes to missions.”

“Baby, you’re the only thought.” Gojo sighs. “You’re our soft place to land and we’d like to keep it that way. We like you soft. You can be strong all you want but when you’re with us, you gotta let us treat you nice, yeah?” You think you nod, babbling back an affirmative, but it’s hard to know as the head of Geto’s cock grinds against your sweet spot, his fingers rubbing over your messy clit. Gojo thumbs at your nipple and it’s the last bit you need to send you over the edge with a cracked shout.

“That’s right, baby, shit.” Geto groans as you clench around him. He presses in close, forehead against yours as he works himself to the edge. Each panting breath is shared between you as you rest the hand Gojo isn’t holding against the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly in his hair.

“Please, wanna feel you. Please cum, Suguru,” you whisper against his lips. He returns the coaxing with a soft “fuck,” pressing his weight against you as he cums with a graveled grunt of your name. You feel the mess leaking down your thighs, a mix of Gojo and Geto dripping out of your cunt as Geto pulls away with a few fluttering kisses.

“Thank you,” he says between each press of your lips. “Thank you for trusting us.” Belatedly, you realize you had trusted them. Implicitly. Geto had even gone as far as reminding you that you had an out, asking for your safe word even when you could tell he didn’t want you walking away from them. Even in your anger and panic you’d trusted them to treat you carefully, and they had. Gojo is still pressing soft kisses into your skin as he clings to you. His leg has found the space Geto left between yours, hooked over your thigh to keep you from squirming away from his sweaty embrace.

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Geto says as he runs his hand up Gojo’s thigh. “We all need a bath and I’ve gotta feed you two.”

“M’not hungry.” Gojo grouses, burying his face further in your neck.

“Don’t be a brat.” Geto groans. “And we definitely need to get some fluids in this one.” He says, wiping the sweat from your brow. “She was already dehydrated. We shouldn’t have tired her out like this.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, really meaning it this time, but Geto brushes you off.

“You probably feel fine but you’ll be complaining about a headache in an hour tops, so up you go. Shower, then food. You can whine about how mean I’m being once you’ve gotten something to drink.” Gojo grumbles something that sounds faintly like “I’ll hold you to that,” as he gathers you into his arms and carries you to the bathroom. They argue about who gets to wash you and what food to order, falling into the familiar rhythm of push and pull between them with you as the mediator, gently guiding their petty arguments with a soft laugh. It’s a comfortable place to be, just one step behind them.

#gojo ★#geto ★#gojo smut #geto smut #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

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moviestarmartini · 7 months

Text

carseat backseat. — jude bellingham x reader x brahim díaz.

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader x brahim díaz.

summary: your girls' night out soon turned into a party of one. good news though, the two men over at the private booth were looking for the perfect opportunity to approach you. and they're looking to get out of that club fast.

wc: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw (+18 mdni), mentions and consumption of alcohol, basic sentences in spanish (as per usual on this blog tbh), PERREO !!!! , car sex (i'm romanticizing it tbh), soft doms!jude & brahim, marking, praise, light degrading, oral sex (f & m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (twice rip), needy mfs, use of petnames, light manhandling, strangers hooking up tbh. if i missed anything lmk.

A/N: this was wild to write which is why i think it took me so long to finish !!! i mentioned it previously but i lowk picture them in a tuned chevy tahoe and not a limo but that might be irrelevant. reblogs & feedback are always appreciated babes xx enjoy

now playing . . . chulo pt.2 by bad gyal, tokischa & young miko / partition by beyoncé

Betrayed.

You were currently feeling betrayed. Your girlfriends all abandoned you, with cheap excuses or promising hookups that surged throughout the night. You could’ve been on your way to get down and busy too, but you had standards. You sat at the bar, thinking what you should order before a margarita came your way. You curled up a brow at the bartender, who just replied: “The young men by that booth noticed you like tequila.”

You frowned at the plural, taking a short sip of the peculiar-shaped glass before looking around. At a private booth full of couples making out and grinding on each other, you could easily recognize two pairs of eyes looking right back at you. With a confident smile, you raise your glass towards them before taking another sip, thinking that would be the end of it.

You hummed in approval at both the taste of the tequila-based drink and the music the DJ was playing, before feeling a presence standing next to you. It was the shortest of the men who had bought you a drink, with light stubble that covered up his jaw and upper lip area. “¿Qué tal, bonita? ¿Te gustó el trago?” He was dangerously close, but you didn’t find the closeness uncomfortable.

“How did you know I liked tequila?” You laughed, throwing your hair back. Brahim joined in, and he couldn’t ignore the way your face lightened up. His lips parted in amusement, watching your every move. The way you crossed your thighs, and how badly he wanted to pry them open.

“How wouldn’t someone like you have my attention all night?” Brahim’s voice came as something similar to a coo, reaching forward to tuck a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt your whole face heating up. “I’m Brahim, a pleasure.” You introduced yourself in the same fashion, not long after perking up at the song that started playing, its opening letters sparking interest. “Lovely to meet you, ¿Vamos?” He pointed to the packed dance floor with his head, offering you his hand.

Taking down the rest or the drink you hopped off the bar stool, taking his hand gladly and into the dance floor. From your experience with Europeans, they were not the most dexterous dancers, standing still and looking up at the ceiling with their hands on your hips. The man only saved himself by the fact you loved the song and he bought you a drink, the least you owed him was a dance.

But oh you were so wrong.

Brahim gripped his hands on the soft skin of your hips, every once in a while controlling the circular motions you produced, while also grinding back against your ass. It only motivated you further, hearing him curse under his breath. “Joder… qué perreo el tuyo, princesa.” You chuckled a little at his reaction, biting on your bottom lip. The tension only grew when he spun you around, dancing face to face, your nose brushing against his.

Before you could take the dip and cut the distance— his cologne had been clouding your senses, mind fuzzy with the growing sexual tension— he twirled you around yet again, your eyes landing directly on a chest. You tilted your head up to meet the eyes of the man she identified sitting next to Brahim earlier.

“Fancy sharing her, bro?” He addressed Brahim, but his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. “All ours, Jude.” You heard the other reply as he inched closer. The words echoed in your mind, goosebumps forming up your arms. The man you now knew as Jude took both your hands, pulling them upwards and to rest around his neck as he joined the two of you dancing.

The tension between the three of you was something you’ve never felt before, Brahim’s nose brushing against your neck and the way Jude stared you down made your knees weak. But the song came to an end, the DJ transitioning to a whole different genre. But that didn’t stop Jude from closing the distance and kissing you, your eyes falling shut instantly. A gasp left your lips the minute you felt another pair on your neck, leaving slow pecks.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Jude proposed, his lips still grazing yours. You nodded, and Brahim scooped your hand in his as he practically dragged you away from the dancing bodies, and Jude followed suit with your hands linked together.

The flashing lights drowned the ambiance, and as you thought of the situation and what could be ahead, you smiled to yourself. If patience was the road to wisdom, you sure felt ninety years older. Maybe your friends jumping off the boat was a blessing in disguise— you deduced as you exited the club through the back. You squinted a little, your eyes already used to the strobe lighting of the club.

Click.

Jude stepped in front of you, covering his mouth to speak as a black large car rolled up. “Cover your face for me, baby.” He advised as Brahim opened the door for you, hopping in behind you, Jude looking at the source of the camera with a straight face before sliding inside the car. He gave instructions to the driver, giving him a large bill to… mind his own business apparently, as a partition was rolled up.

“You owe me a kiss,” Brahim complained after not even two seconds of silence, brushing his nose against your cheek. You couldn’t help but giggle as he roughly drew you into his lap, taking your lips hostage in his. While Jude’s affections earlier were soft and careful, Brahim seemed eager; but it still wasn’t his hand grazing the skin of your inner thigh, making your legs part open. Your mini skirt rode up, and you noticed how Brahim pulled it even further to rest at your lower waist. A hum of approval rang through the moving vehicle, and as Jude’s hand inched closer to your core, you shivered.

Brahim groaned at the sudden movement, parting ways with your lips to settle down your neck, Jude taking the same initiative. You moaned softly, jerking your hips. Him, in response, bit into your neck, his fingers delving into the soft skin of your hips. Getting that much attention was overwhelming, and you fell drunk on it. They really worshiped you, lips slowly making their way down, the moans rewarding the men for their good work.

Jude parted first, his finger grazing the soft fabric of your underwear. “We’ve got you so wet,” He cooed, taking your cheeks and turning your head to look at him. He dissected your reaction as his hand just shoved the panties to a side and he took a dip to test your wetness. A light smirk tugged on his face as he watched your lips part in a tiny gasp.

“Turn her a bit towards me, mate.” Jude instructed Brahim, who was busy painting hematomas on your neck. He nodded with the same devilish shine on his eyes, shifting a little so you would both face him. “What do you want, babe? You look a bit bothered,” He freighted innocence, a chuckle rung from behind you.

You became even more embarrassed; how easy your body queues were to them. “Touch me,” You replied with a certain fortitude in your voice, when your eyes were dripping with need. Brahim watched you, lips slightly parted, and just smiled. He gave Jude a nod, who didn’t waste any time in sinking a finger into your wetness. You couldn’t help but throw your head back with a groan, finding rest in Brahim’s shoulder.

Jude didn’t find any pleasure in easing it into you, fixing a steady pace that would have you writhing in no time. You noticed Brahim getting harder under your ass, the movements clearly getting him off. He still didn’t budge, instead hooking a finger on the strap of your blouse and tugging it off the way slowly before kissing the area.

Your moans were breathy, as if you were a fish out of water, your hand reaching back to brush Brahim’s hair out of the way, his light beard tickling the back of your shoulder. You could also feel his hand sliding down your torso, his ring and middle finger soon finding a home at your throbbing clit. You noticed through almost closed eyes that Jude licked his lips and slid another digit in, picking up the pace.

“You like that, princesa? Wanna cum?” Brahim brushed your hair back. You did your best to affirm between babbles, but the built up was rapid and dangerous. “You can do it, you’re so good for us.” Jude confirmed with praise, and you couldn’t have stopped the orgasm even if you wanted to. Your moans filled up the space, legs trembling as they both slowed down and worked you through it.

Jude took his fingers out and started licking them, never breaking eye contact. Instead, he reached out to pull you into a kiss. His hand cupped your jaw with ease, as you sloppily made out. You could taste yourself in his tongue, “What a pretty mess we have here.” He stroked your cheekbone as the car came to a halt. The driver simply left the vehicle and both men checked through the tinted foggy windows their surroundings. They were at the hotel they requested, at the underground parking level that looked as though no one had been there in years.

Perfect.

You came to the same conclusion they did, now pulling Jude back into a kiss, your hands unbuttoning his shirt. But at the same time you reached back and pulled Brahim closer to do the same, with a bit of his help. Jude watched as you cupped his boner through the dress pants, letting a small surprised groan. He’d been so busy pleasuring you he didn’t realize how needy he was himself.

“I want to taste you.” Brahim whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. Trying to think of an arrangement, an idea quickly rose to your head before it was occupied with the toned bodies of the shirtless men on either side of you. “You will, I promise,” You gave him a peck before giving your attention back to Jude, kissing down his torso as you got on your knees still on the car seat.

You heard Brahim sigh as you unbuttoned the other’s pants, Jude himself helping you lower his underwear to give his hard cock some space to breathe. You didn’t waste any time, licking the pre-cum that rolled down the tip before wrapping your hand around the girth and stroking it shortly. It didn’t take long for you to slowly slide it inside your mouth, Jude’s hand reaching to rest on the crown of your head with a groan leaving his lips.

Brahim didn’t seem to want to interrupt your work, but as you got into it, you felt the familiar hook of his fingers; this time around the waistband of your panties. He slid them down before a thumb stroked down your wet slit. But the slow-paced affections didn’t last long as he pressed his flat tongue to pick up all the slick and go straight to town on you. You started to struggle keeping your mouth and hand at a good pace, moans muffled with the thick cock stuffed in your mouth.

“Don’t stop,” Jude warned between groans, the grip in your hair tightening. The oral fixation seemed to be pushing him over the edge, in the same situation you found yourself in.

That was, until Brahim stopped.

You couldn’t even find the time to complain, to ask him for more; some shuffling filling the suffocating air before a leaking tip grazed your sloppy slit, all soaked with your arousal. You arched your back, pushing back against the friction. Both men snickered between themselves, Brahim still teasing you with the tip of his hard dick.

“You really want it, don’t you?” He cooed, his teasing actions still going further by pushing himself onto your entrance, but never making it fully inside. Instead of responding, you concentrated on giving your best affections, catching him off guard.

“Bro— fuck, do it.” Jude gave him the approval, clearly taking your enthusiasm into his pleasure as encouragement for the other man to satisfy you. Brahim sighed, lining himself properly with your entrance before burying his length inside you.

The groans that came out of your throat were gutural, full of lust. “You feel so good…” He exclaimed, throwing his head back, still getting used to the feel. He wasn’t the lengthiest, but the sheer girth made up for it. His hands gripped hard on the dough of your hips, tightening as he bounced your body against his in the same fashion you were doing earlier at the club.

You couldn’t help but arch your back even lower, doing your best to continue with your hard labor as Brahim set a relentless pace. You’d come to notice he was the most anxious one, yearning to take you as yours. But it seemed to be rubbing off on the other man, his long fingers gripping your hair with certain force. He thrusted hard enough to rock the car at the movement of his hips, enough to have Jude controlling your mouth, choking on his length.

The scene was straight out of the craziest adult film, but you knew that if you weren’t the one experiencing it, it wouldn’t be as hot. “Cum, baby. Come on.” Brahim encouraged, smacking your ass loudly; you were so fixated on pleasing the other man you didn’t even realize how close you were to your second release of the night. It knocked the air out of your lungs, saliva stuck with a guttural groan as the sensitive tip hit the back of your throat.

“Squeeze my cock like that— mierda, así, yes!” You could make out from riding down the tidal wave your orgasm brought, still stroking Jude’s cock while you took a breather to let out all the scandalous moans, letting the small tears run and ruin your mascara a little.

By the stutter on Brahim’s hips you noticed he was going to finish right then and there, only bouncing your hips back in the same fashion you were doing in no less than half an hour ago at the dance floor.

It took him a moment to recover, heavy breathing overshadowing the sloppy blowjob. He pulled out, looking back to watch the cum dripping out your whole. “Jude,” Brahim looked at him with a heavy breath. “Look at this. Look how perfect our pussy looks pumped of my cum,”

You whined at the sheer force the Spanish national manhandled you to show you off like a prize, and with this new angle you noticed a hint of pride in his voice. Jude’s seeming examination took a moment, even though you could hear the slick noise your leftover saliva made as he stroked his cock.

“I think it’s missing something…” Jude pondered, rising to his knees before pushing himself inside you. With a loud moan of surprise your knees couldn’t hold anymore, collapsing onto your stomach. Your head rested on Brahim’s thick thigh, and he soothed you through the first few instances with praise. Now it was his turn to be the doting one, brushing your hair back and talking you through it. “You’re taking it so well.”

“Suck him off, babe. He’s getting hard for witnessing how much of a good pretty slut you are for us,” Jude ordered, pulling your hips back up to pound into you shamelessly. The command wasn’t a problem, mind so cockdrunk you could do whatever they asked of you.

Jude still helped you up so you could get to the task at hand, but Brahim dipped lower to link his lips with yours tenderly, contrasting the constant sound of skin coming into contact. As you made out, you took the chance to stroke his cock, still soaked with your fluids. He seemed to be melting onto the seat, still sensitive from the previous orgasm. Breaking away and trying to manage your moans as best as you could, your tongue licked up the prominent vein up the underside, before wrapping your lips around the soft tip.

You fluttered your lashes up at him, finding him cute with his parted lips. But it was Jude who picked your hair back and motivated you straight into the action, sounds of pleasure now coming from both men. Brahim writhed under you, while Jude had you squirming.

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” Jude whined, trying to finish on the same pace but being unable to do so. Your walls squeezed him dry deliciously, and he leaned to press his chest against your back to reach around and draw circular motions on your overstimulated clit. “Just one more, okay baby? You can do it,” He encouraged, at the same time you tore yourself away from blowing Brahim to breathe and moan out freely.

“Perfect girl,” Brahim cooed as Jude slowed down, helping you ride down the wave your release represented. Jude pulled out, now standing back to admire his load leaking straight out of you. But now it was his turn to help you onto his lap, holding you close.

“You did so well,” Jude hummed, caressing your cheeks, cleaning the dried mascara. Brahim scooted over, brushing your hair back with his hands and pressing the tiniest, most playful kisses over your bare shoulders. With a gentle hand, Jude turned your head in his direction and locked his lips with your own, slightly swollen and adapting a redder tone. It was tender, calm. Brahim followed, matching the same energy.

It was strange how both men had that duality to them; going from being completely hands on and greedy with your body, to soothing you with the sweetest touches. “We didn’t even make it to the hotel room…” You joked, the two of them joining in the lazy laugh.

“It’s barely one in the morning.” Brahim brushed his nose against your cheek, in the same way he demanded a kiss earlier. You noticed him and Jude shared a look before looking back at you.

“Round two?” They proposed in unison. Still, their voices and expressions didn’t give any hint of obligation, just curiosity. You knew you could reject them and they would understand completely.

And that only captivated you further.

“Round two.” You confirmed with a nod and a wink, getting yourself together to at least spend a minute or so at the hotel lobby. As you all entered and confirmed the booking, it seemed that their infatuation with you only grew; Brahim couldn’t tear himself away from your side while Jude couldn’t stop looking back at you with a certain glimmer in his eyes.

You knew this was bound to be a long night. The biggest comfort though? That you knew you were going to wake up the next morning held securely by two pairs of strong arms.

#jude bellingham #brahim diaz #jude bellingham x latina reader #jude victor willliam bellingham #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #brahim diaz x reader #football smut #football fic #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !

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milliesfishes · 6 months

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓟𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓜𝓮𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. author’s note: definitely going to make this a series, this isn’t necessarily a dark fic, but it’s not not a dark fic so keep that in mind. This is my first fic on tumblr and I’m still figuring out how to use the site in regards to fanfiction, figuring out what warnings I need to include so let me know if I missed anything :) Series Pinterest Board Series Spotify Playlist

It’s a strange thing to find out that someone you’re not supposed to love cheated on you.

This is a fact you found to be true one night as you wandered the halls of the mansion you inhabited with your husband, the president of Panem. The beautiful, tortured, powerful Coriolanus Snow. A match made in heaven, as your father proclaimed when he told you after your graduation from the university. Somehow, the fact that he’d let you finish school, knowing you’d only be married off afterward made it worse.

But as Coriolanus began to court you, suddenly it wasn’t a horrible idea. He was young, and very handsome, a far cry from the men some of your girlfriends had been forced to marry. Old, balding men with more money than yellowing teeth, and horribly old-fashioned demeanors.

Coriolanus was just as wealthy, thanks to his former Gamemaker position, and the only thing paler than his perfect blond hair was his full mouth of teeth. As for his demeanor, well, he was cold, lightly controlling (typical of a man in the Capitol), but he’d charmed you right down the aisle after all so how bad was it really?

Marriage wasn’t the storybook romance you’d fantasized about in your youth, but it was fine enough, and besides, you’d left those daydreams in the past. You never wanted for anything, were at the height of society, admired and beloved by all, especially now that he was president. The two of you made a beautiful couple, and you were free to do as you pleased, your only obligations being typical marital duty when he requested so and attending the various events his presidency demanded from him on his arm, the perfect little wife.

Even though this was an arranged marriage, and you knew he didn’t love you per se, you knew he was at least fond of you. Through the little smiles he offered you when you’d say something particularly sweet or funny, and the gifts he lavished you with, and the fact that he insisted you slept in the same bed, he showed you. And little by little, you came to like him. You looked forward to eating with him every morning and evening, even came to enjoy his touch, the little ways he gave himself to you as a husband. He treated you with respect, and you gave him what he wanted. Your body, your devotion, your image.

All in all, after almost three years of marriage, you were content.

Until one night, when you were walking down the hallway where his office was, planning on asking him when he was coming to bed. It was getting late, and you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he got some sleep. Besides, you missed having his warm body beside yours as you fell asleep.

Bare feet padding down the hallway, clad in a silk dressing gown, you crept toward the door. He was talking to someone on the phone, and you smiled softly. That was Coriolanus, always working. Devoted to his career, his life’s work.

You pressed your ear to the door, wondering if he was wrapping up the conversation so you could walk through the door and see him. As you did, you caught the middle of a sentence.

“...told you not to call me here, dove,” he said quietly, almost urgently.

The weight of it hit you like a punch. Dove. That was his pet name for you. Your eyes widened, and your vision blurred, the room seeming to tilt. Dovedovedovedove.

Who was he talking to?

Ear pressed to the door, you tried to make out the conversation. Maybe it’d been some kind of sick Freudian slip, a mistake.

“...I know, I know,” he said in hushed tones, voice cold. “No, not tomorrow, it’s my wife and I’s anniversary. The next morning. I’ll come to you.” He paused. “Wear the black one from last time, dove. You looked so pretty for me.” The last part was said quieter than the others.

The rest of the conversation was lost to you. Your knees felt weak, and you slid down the wall, heart pounding in your ears, arms folding automatically around yourself. Dove.

Another woman.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, and you didn’t know how long you sat there, leaning against the door. For some reason, you felt like crying. Even though you weren’t supposed to love him, it still hit like a slap across the face. For a moment, you wished he would open the door and find you there, and know you’d heard enough to know what he’d done.

But he didn’t. You could hear papers shuffling around, and eventually you stood up, your thoughts still static, and ran quietly back up to your shared bedroom, suddenly not wanting him to know that you knew.

Shutting the door behind you, you scrambled to come to a conclusion. Why was he doing this? Were you not good enough? Didn’t you give him enough?

In this haze, seeing this as the only possible reason, you tore off your dressing gown, running to the closet and digging through a drawer until you found a pretty lacy little nightdress, one he’d gotten for you. In black, he said he wanted her in black.

You pulled it on, hurriedly going to the vanity and adjusting your appearance, smoothing your hair, making sure you were perfect. The black lace stood out against your porcelain skin, making your cheeks look rosy. Your hair was luscious and soft, neatly brushed out. You looked angelic, the picture of beauty.

Quickly, picked up a little bottle, spraying the perfume you knew he liked on your wrists and neck. Does he get her this scent too?

Hazily, you stepped out and went to a chair close to the bed and picked up one of your books just to give yourself some kind of distraction. Your mind raced, a thousand unhelpful thoughts piercing your soul. Maybe if I was prettier…I can be prettier…maybe if I smiled more…maybe if I’m pretty for him right now, he won’t go to her…maybe he’ll forget…

At last, Coriolanus opened the bedroom door, shutting it behind him. The white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and you felt a little flutter at the sight, sitting up straight so he’d notice you…

He barely gave you a glance, going around to his side of the bed, pulling his tie off and tossing it on the chair beside his bed. He kicked his shoes off and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off, and it went the same way as the tie, as well as his pants.

You stood up, putting your book down, and slowly got under the covers, letting the hem of your nightdress slide up your thigh. He pulled back the covers, getting in and resting his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. You moved a little closer to him, one strap of your nightdress falling off your shoulder. Nothing.

Reaching over, closer to him, you ran your hand up his arm soothingly. When he’d had a tense day at work, this usually worked, but now he didn’t respond. You moved closer, running your hand up his chest. His eyes turned to you, but they were void of any emotion. Biting your lip, you tried a sweet little smile.

Coriolanus’ hand moved to yours on his chest, and he moved it off, giving it a little pat. His hand went back to its spot on his stomach. “Not tonight, dove.” Your husband’s words were cold, final. Dove.

Another pang went through your chest, and you moved back a little, feeling like you were free falling. Hedoesntwantyou.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you bit your lip harder, not wanting to cry in front of him. You felt ridiculous, all dolled up in your little nightdress, thinking if you were prettier he would stop cheating.

Turning to the side, facing away from him, you stared at the wall, trying to pretend to be asleep. Not that he’d notice anyways.

You eventually closed your eyes, feeling like the loneliest person in the world, even though there was a man who supposedly cared about you lying there beside you. Knees tucked up toward your chest, covers around your hips, you tried to sleep, tried to act like you didn’t know what you knew.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt him turn over, a hand coming over your waist, pulling you closer. It took everything in you not to push it away. Why should he get to hold you? Why should he get to walk out of one woman’s arms into another’s?

The last thought you had before you fell asleep was about how warm his hand was, and how it felt wrong that it belonged to such a cold man.

Next part

come talk about coryo here!

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow #tbosas #coryo x reader #president snow x reader #snow lands on top #young president snow #milliesfishes #the hunger games fanfiction #married to young president snow #Spotify #milliesfishes coryo

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icanseethefuture333 · 1 year

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PAC: Urgent messages from your shadow self 🕷🕸🖤

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Trigger warning: These tarot cards contain graphic content (gore, syringes, etc.) and in this pac there is mentions of trauma, substance abuse, inner child wounds, etc. The tone of the words will also sound blunt because the shadow self is brutally honest. Viewer discretion is advised.

Pile 1:

Beautiful Liar by Beyoncé & Shakira

Special by Ashnikko

Black Swan by BTS

Four of Fire, Two of Air, & Daughter of Air.

(Clarified by Adjustment)

Your shadow self wants to urge you to find balance within yourself and your life. Perhaps you are someone who is constantly juggling with tasks, hobbies, or responsibilities. You are being a "jack of all trades, but a master of none". You don't know how to multitask and yet you are still trying to do it - why? You are overwhelming yourself. Take smaller steps vs trying to finish everything all at once. You are making yourself sink into this hole of frustation on your own. In the future, you will just make things more difficult if you persist in this charade of yours. Your shadow self is giving you a kick in the butt because you rely too much on charm when you mess up or to get away shit. Also your "white lies" could turn into big lies. If you needed a job per say, this behavior could have you looked down and be seen as unprofessional. There's a lot of visuals regarding the circus. Such as the acrobats or fire tamers. You are talented and witty. Use your wits to find ways to accomplish your goals. I am also being reminded of the scene from Mulan where she unsheaths her swords and you can see her reflection. Perhaps you have a duality to yourself that you are unaware of. You need to look into the lightness and darkness of your soul. What are your light or shadow attributes? Your strengths or weaknesses? Think of what they are and write it down, then create a plan. Once you have decided what to do or how you can make better decisions. You will start to make progress in your journey. The girl is walking on a tightrope with a stick and bowls(?) on her head. This could mean you literally need to "tighten up" which is an expression of handling your business basically. There is birds flying behind her. Your spirit guides and higher self are supporting you as you walk towards your destiny. Be patient and grounded. You will feel proud of yourself in the end and feel grateful you learned this lesson. (Clarifying song: Libra by The Deli) You could be someone with Libra placements or you need to surround yourself with people that are this sign. This could also mean embodying the traits of Libra. They are known for their balance, diplomacy, fairness, friendliness, & charm.

Pile 2:

Assassin by Au/Ra

Cellophane by FKA Twigs

Go To Sleep by Bearson ft. Kailee Morgue

Five of Water (reversed), Seven of Air, & Son of Earth

(Clarified by The Magus (reversed).)

Tsk tsk. You're self sabotaging. What's going on, pile 2? I feel like you're trying to get over past disappointments but things keep crumbling and falling apart in your very eyes. You could be dealing with depression right now or you're avoiding the world because of this fear of yours. You could be laying in bed a lot or sleeping more than usual to cope. Some of you could have gotten rejected by someone you really liked and are thinking the worse as if it's the end of your love life. There's over 8 billion people in the world, it's not the end unless you act like it is. There could be so much abundance ahead of you if you would just stopped being so inconsistent and indecisive. Reflect as to why you're afraid, why are you self sabotaging, why are letting your life past you by when there's a whole world out there ready to be explored? (Clairifying song: NO PROBLEM by Nayeon ft Felix of Stray Kids) Whatever you dealt with is not happening to you right now. You survived baby. Sometimes it's good to be single because you can focus on putting that love towards your own heart. Try to focus on having fun vs finding the "one". You'd be surprised by how many people will be knocking at your door when you realize how much of a catch you are. Also stop comparing yourself to people on social media. Learn to see past people's illusions and understand they only post the positives of what's going on their life because they're scared of being vulnerable or seen as a failure. You are gonna do just fine if you focus on your own happiness.

Pile 3:

Dëserve It by Yeat

I'm Not Sorry by imagine Dragons

Element. by Kendrick Lamar

Three of Earth, Eight of Water, & The Universe

(Clarified by The Fool)

You usin' work and self achievements to cope huh? You're always working so hard to accomplish things, but have you ever took a minute to realize that you are already accomplished even if you don't succeed? (Clarifying song: No L's by Smino) Why do you always need to win? What's so bad about losing? Loss can be scary, but it can teach us valuable lessons in life as well. You fear of being seen unsuccessful, a failure. You don't want to be the gossip in your town, at your job, or family functions. Everything you do, you just work and work. You not addressing the problems in your life. What are you working for? You have money, you have trophies, you have awards, you have a long list of achievements, you have your own place, but that is not healing you. Your valuables are just things. They are not fulfilling you emotionally or mentally. For some of you, you need to stop being a doormat just for the sake of a paycheck or being provided for. This could be someone at your job, school, etc, who is stressing you. Your shadow self wants to tell you to not let anyone make you act out of character but it also gives you permission to put a bitch in check and in their place if needed to. Start setting boundaries. You need to start treating yourself with love and care as if you were a baby. You deserve to be taken care of. Nurture your soul. Nurture your heart. Nurture your mind. If you're not protecting yourself then what is the point? Don't fall into the system of being a worker bee or give into hustling and grinding culture, to the point it's gonna harm your health.

Pile 4:

UNFUCKWITTABLE by Stunna Girl

Team by Iggy Azalea

Player by Tinashe

Ace of Water, Mother of Water, & Eight of Earth

(Clarified by The Star)

Okay so I had to reshuffle for this pile because I didn't take a picture of the first cards I got so I had to redo this, so this is the last spread I finished out of all the other piles. What's interesting is that since it's getting dark I had to turn on my led mirror and use it as a lamp. It was illuminating a light onto The Star card, which I find interesting. A wish fulfillment is on its way. You guys could be manifesting something or reciting affirmations in the mirror. In the song, Stunna Girl keeps saying "I'm a stunner girl" repeatedly, stunner means to be "a strikingly beautiful or impressive person or thing". Stunna Girl has also went viral and become more popular after appearing on the show "Baddies West". You could be growing into your confidence soon and learning to love yourself unconditionally and unapologetically. You could even become more popular or go viral on social media. For some of you, you are healing generational trauma for your female ancestors. They are so proud of you! Or you could come from a family with a lot of powerful, strong, independent women. In a patriarchal society, a woman who is outspoken, knows her worth, and is self assured, is looked down upon because they are less easy to humble and manipulate. Insecure men could paint you as a "bitch" or that you look "mid", to try to humble you when that is just lies. You need to know that you're a bad bitch and that you deserve the best. Your shadow self wants you to stand tf UP! Stop giving a fuck about what other people want you to do or think of you. Make them uncomfortable with your glow up. The women in your family worked and yourself as well have worked too god damn hard for you to sit on your ass and wallow in your tears. You are smart enough, you are strong enough, you are pretty enough, you are ENOUGH. Straighten up your spine and fix your posture. Walk into the room as if you own it. I don't care if you just rolled out of bed with a pair of stained sweatpants and dirty Chuck Taylor's on, you better rock it as if it's designer. Your shadow self will back hand your ass harder than Maddy slapped Cassie from Euphoria if you keep getting in your head and overthinking about shit that's not even that serious. Also, you can have anybody you want, if somebody is stressing you out - Drop their ass and move on. You deserve to be treated like royalty. Stop settling for dust! For some of you, this message could be specific, but your mother is very proud of you or you will be set free from a mother wound. You need to read a book (48 Laws of Power and The Art of Seduction for example) or head to the books if you are a student. Also in your love life, you will not be getting played anymore, but you will be the player (not talking about breaking people's hearts or cheating, calm down Karen 😮‍💨). You will stop chasing love interests and they will be chasing you. Secure attachment for the win 💪🏽. (Clarifying song: Eat It Up by Kaliii ft. BIA). Eat this shit up, pile 4. All this is yours. You are gonna be living your best life soon. NSFW message but some of you will also feel more pleasure in your sex life and will feel more confident about demanding what you want in the bedroom. People will live to please you. There is a lot of fertility here, so be careful if you are able to get pregnant.

Pile 5:

For The Record by Sophiya

Up All Night by Drake ft. Nicki Minaj

Energy by Beyoncé ft. BEAM

Father of Fire, Four of Air (reversed), & Nine of Water (reversed)

(Clarified by Seven of Fire)

You have a lot of passion, pile 5, but you seem to get burnt out easily when it comes to trying to achieve your desires. There is a goal that you are reaching towards that you so desperately wish to achieve to the point its keeping you up at night and causing you to feel restless. Some of you could smoke, you need to cut that down or quit all togerher because it is making your nerves really bad or making you even more anxious (could cause you to age physically faster as well). Some of you could have been ghosted by someone you fell in love with pretty quickly. Possible love bombing? There is a lot of highs and lows in this relationship. Is this a friends with benefits situation? You could have a crush on someone but you are too afraid to state your feelings, so you use your sex appeal to keep them around. You need to voice what you are wanting out of this relationship because this flame will only last so long if you keep going this way. (Clarifying song: My Strange Addiction by Billie Ellish) there is so much about "fire", "lighters", "matches", "fuses", and "smoke" being mentioned in this pile. Are you guys pyromaniacs 😂? I would hope not, if you are please seek help for that lol. If not, you guys could be drawn to the "fire" as in things that intentionally just burn you in the end. It's almost as if you get off to this toxic behavior but then when it ends, you act unstable. You need to find the courage to stop engaging in behaviors that are bad for your mental, emotional, or physical health. Also be brave when expressing your needs in a relationship, if they agree then maybe you can work it out, if not, then it's time to leave. Some of you also could have an anxious attachment or have a fear of abandonment due to a absent father. You need to do shadow work or talk with a therapist to heal that. Learn to find emotional fulfillment and security within yourself.

Pile 6:

Skinnydipped by Banks

Don't Recall by KARD

Sober by Mahalia

Are you overcoming an addiction, Pile 6? Or wanting to go sober? Either way, I commend you for the strength in wanting to do so, since I know that isn't easy. This could also mean your shadow self wants you to quit doing drugs or drinking alcohol because it is making you act manic. I feel like you were treated harshly growing up or you were left with the "vultures". You could have been neglected growing up and had to learn to survive. You could of used maldaptive daydreaming to cope. Your fantasies gave you comfort in a time of stress and turmoil. I'm so sorry for that, pile 6, but you have to understand you no one is out to get to you. You can choose a new story for yourself. You dont have to be a victim anymore. You are free to start a new life for yourself. Some of you came from abusive households or were put in the system at a young age (either you were adopted or was in foster care). You could have lived in multiple places or went from house to house as a child. Did you run away as a kid? Why were you running, sweetheart? You can stop running now, take a new route. Just peacefully go towards your new journey. There is no need to rush. (Clarifying song by Come Down by Anderson .Paak & They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y) by Pete Rock & C.L Smooth) October is significant for some of you. There is going to be growth and prosperity in your life. You need to take time to nurture yourself and practice some self care. I heard "sprout" so you need to look inwards and have a conversation with your inner child. Can you remember your childhood? Do your memories seem blurry or you can't recall anything that happened? Be kind to yourself and be patient. I know it can seem nerve wracking at first but overtime you will be grateful you did it. Think of your younger self as this seed, if no one watered the plant, gave it sunlight or natural light, or fed it with fertilizer, then you can be the first to make that seed grow. Tend to your garden. This will help you build character and gain optimism. You will start to think "Hey, you know what? Maybe life isn't so bad. Maybe I can be a somebody!" And you will :) ♡ You could also be feeling very nostalgic or reminisce your youth. People could also see your growth and remember as a kid, they are going to be surprised how successful you've become to overcome your hardships. Also try to seek the professional help of a therapist or counselor if you try to unpack childhood trauma, or if you can't remember your past, it can be a sign your brain is possibly blocking you out from remembering something traumatic. Be safe and take care, pile 6 🙏🏽

Pile 7:

Run by SAAY

Monster by EXO

Just A Girl by No Doubt

Nine of Fire, Five of Air, & The Empress (reversed).

(Clarifidd by Son of Water)

Oh my 😃! Wow pile 7, do you hold a grudge against the entire male population or a masculine in mind, it seems? You are acting mad bitter. I feel you have the tendecy to be a misandrist out of the trauma from your past. You feel angry that men can get away with their wrong doings while women are forced to suffer. Ironically, you are still attracted to them. You could be struggling with your divine feminine energy. You are also resenting what it means to be a "feminine". You wish to create this on your own terms. Are you apart of the LGBTQ? or consider yourself a feminist? Maybe even both? If you are someone who is a man or identifies with masculine energy, it could mean you behave feminine in a negative way (as in you "nag" or are too "sensitive"). This also reminds me of Jules in season 2 of Euphoria when she cut her hair, started wearing black, and began to feel comfortable in her androgynous style. Some of you guys are really mixed up emotionally and mentally. Like no offense, I take that back, your shadow self wants to say "full offense" - you are acting crazy. Slow down, take a deep breath, and let it go. You are valid in your pain and your emotions, but you cannot let this world make you bitter. You can't inflict pain onto other people just because you were hurt. You are not a monster, you are not the person who hurt you. Do better and be better than them. (Clarifying song: Close Your Eyes by Kim Petras & The Hills (remix) by The Weeknd ft. Nicki Minaj) I am being reminded of the scene from Doja Cat's Streets music video when she was like this spider crawling on it's web, catching their "prey" (the love interest). You are like a black widow. Beautiful to admire from afar, but dangerous to interact with up close. There is someone who is head over heels for you. You could like this person or are pushing them away out of fear. You could be the type of person who warns people before they fall in love with you (Watch the movie "It's A Thin Line Beyween Love & Hate"). You could have even sworn to never love again (Your shadow self: "bffr" 💀). You need to harness this hatred, anger, and darkness for a better cause. Use your pain as a passion to transform yourself and become someone magnificent. Like a spider, you are resourceful. Use your sources and use your intelligence to begin this new transformation. You're lashing out of fear. You're pushing people away because of your trauma. You deserve to be treated tenderly, you're not some scary creature. You are actually so empathetic, intuitive, creative, sensual, and enticing. A mystery that people want to unravel. You are a going to be a femme fatale in it's purest form.

Pile 8:

By Any Means by Jorja Smith

Feelings by Tinashe

Human by Sevdaliza

Five of Fire, Nine of Air, & The Moon

(Clarified by The Hierophant)

Pile 8, why are you ripping yourself apart to fit into society's pressures and demands? When will you realize that you are beautiful in your own way? I remember when Kendrick Lamar said: "If a flower bloomed in a dark room would you trust it?". Not every flower grows in the sunlight or the spring or the summer. Some grow during the harsh, cold weather of the winters or when everything falls in autumn. You are in competition with no one but yourself and you are not going to win this game if you treat yourself like shit. If you wanna be a winner, then you need to start acting like one vs acting like a sore loser. When things go wrong, you are so unnecessarily rude and hard on yourself. Why is that? Ask yourself these things next time you catch yourself thinking that way. You're not anything of the mean things you say about yourself or what people have said to you. You struggle with your insecurities and cling to what gives you comfort even though you know you want better than this, you want better than what you are currently doing. Why do you stick to the same routine everyday even though you know you want change? Sometimes you have to be uncomfortable so you can be comfortable. You may compare your beauty to other people but you need to realize no one is perfect. You are human, as the song goes. A human with "flaws, veins, scars". Embrace your imperfections. You don't want to look back at your past and regret you never took action on anything because you weren't "pretty" enough. Look past your appearance and look inside. (Life Goes On by BTS) What are you are clinging to, pile 8? Are you holding onto something? You're holding sanding at this point and it's slipping through your fingers, you are stuck in this hour glass, wishing to be released. Time keeps ticking and life passes you by. Break free from the perceptions of time and start living your life to the fullest without limitations, doubts, and fears. Life has its up and downs but you have to learn to find hope in dark times. Seek help from your shadow self or the universe when you are in need of faith. Trust the divine that things will always work out for you, no matter what.

Pile 9:

Let It Out by Rico Nasty

UCKERS by Shygirl

Ghetto Gatsby by Brent Faiyaz ft. Alicia Keys

Two of Love, Three of Air, & Eight of Water

(Clairifed by Ace of Air)

Time to end it with a bang 🤬🥊💥! Did you just go through a break up, pile 9? Whether it was with a friend or partner. You are internalizing a lot that happened from this relationship, honestly, you interalize everything. Your shadow self wants you to let out whatever you're feeling. Scream, shout, yell, etc. It is time to stop turning the other cheek and speak up. You also need to confront something or someone who hurt you. (Clarifying song: Fingers by Zayn & Roman's Revenge by Nicki Minaj ft. Eminem) Ugh this person is so LAMEEE 😒🙄 Once you finally get over this connection, they will want to come back and talk to you about what happened. You or this person could have been writing text messages but never sending them. This conversation will be your chance to gain clarity and communicate about how you felt in your relationship. This will help you move on and also allow you to learn to stand up for yourself.

#pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot readings #tarot reading #pick a pile #shadow work #shadow self #higher self #spirituality #healing #witchcraft #astrology #manifestation #manifest #wicca #18+ readings #18+ pac

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billboard-hotties-tourney · 3 days

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Dolly Parton (1946-) solo Songs: "Jolene," "I Will Always Love You" Defeated Opponents: Alice Coltrane, Ruth Brown, Patti Smith, Linda Ronstadt, Donna Summer, Aretha Franklin Propaganda: "One of the best country (and any) musicians to grace us with her talents for decades! A bimbo with a brain and we love her! Beyoncé and Whitney Houston covered her songs. This woman supports women! And literacy! But also her voice is one of a kind and she knows how to command any stage she's on." "She's one of the world's best-selling musicians and she's an actress! Shes's also an advocate for LGBT rights, gives money to HIV/AIDS research, and many more causes. She donates one book per month to every kid born in Tennessee up until they're 5 years old. She put a lot of money into COVID research. Her large chest is so well-known that it's been written about in songs, military tanks have been named after her, and Dolly the cloned sheep shares her name. Also, she apparently wrote Jolene and Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You in the same day!" "She's adorable. She's funny. She smart and business savvy enough that she would probably be a billionaire if she wasn't also a genuinely wonderful human being who gives tons and tons of money away to various charities and causes. She's so supportive of younger artists and artists of color and the queer community. She's always so gracious and genuinely excited when new artists cover her songs. She's the best thing to ever come from the state of Tennessee and I love her entirely. We do not deserve her but I'm glad we have her."

Nina Simone (1933-2003) solo Songs: "Feelin' Good," "Wild is the Wind" Defeated Opponents: Siouxsie Sioux, Patsy Cline, Janis Joplin, Billie Holiday, Cher, Sister Rosetta Tharpe Propaganda: "She has a hard taking-no-shit attitude that instantly turns me on" "music peaked here everyone else can go home"

Visual Propaganda for Dolly Parton:

Visual Propaganda for Nina Simone:

#dolly parton #nina simone #miss billboard tourney #semifinals

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notyouraryang0dd3ss · 5 months

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part 1

#anti taylor swift #anti swifties #white feminism #white supremacy #beyoncé #misogynoir #the tortured poets department #cowboy carter #notyouraryang0dd3ss #tiktok #per that anon sending me tiktok links thank you! im gonna post the rest

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berberriescorner · 1 year

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“Are You Listening?”

Part Three: “Bad Idea”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: It’s part three…expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, drinking, and drama.

Word Count: 5,900+.

A/N: I just wanted to thank my lovelies again for showing this story so much love. I had no idea people would love it this much. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks💓. Enjoy the chaos😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist:

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Inspired By:

Dark clouds filled the evening sky as a drizzle fell against your windshield. Your thoughts were adrift as you fought to make a proper decision. There were only two choices. Accept the offer and hope for a positive outcome, or leave immediately. The loud vibration of your phone halted your decision-making. Sucking in a shaky breath, you accepted the call. It was your best friend. The word hello barely left your lips as she began firing off questions.

“Did you make it to your destination safely? Are you sure it’s smart to be around him right now? Should you trust him?”

You cut your friend off.

“Sis, calm down. Let me answer at least one of your questions.”

“Seriously though, Y/N. How did he find you?”

“He didn’t find me, per se. We’re just in the same state, city, and establishment. Ironic as it may seem.”

“That’s just a little too coincidental for my liking. Look, just be careful and keep your guard up dealing with him. Y/N, you’ve got enough shit going on. There’s no need to fan the flames. Your situation is bad enough. Accept his offer but keep your head on a swivel. Now, take your ass inside that building. Call me once you’ve settled for the night. Do you need money, sis?”

“How’d you know I’m sitting in the car? Yes, I’m good on cash. I withdrew half of our joint account before I left town. I should’ve emptied the account and made his damn pockets hurt.”

“It’s my job to know. You’re my best friend. I agree you should’ve drained that account, girl.”

You inhaled, attempting to calm your nerves, “alright. I’m going in. I’ll call you later with an update. Love you, sis.”

Even after ending the call, you spent a few more minutes in the driver's seat of your vehicle.

Oh, fuck this. Let me just see where it goes. It’s been years since I’ve been here. It wouldn’t hurt to accept the help of a familiar face.

Exiting the car, you enabled the lock as you walked towards the luxurious hotel lobby. Halfway across the threshold, you felt his presence to your left.

“I was starting to think you had changed your mind. It was as if I could see the thoughts racing through your pretty little head from the lobby window, sweetheart. I’m glad you decided to accept my assistance.”

“I’m not sure I’ve decided to do so. Listen, I appreciate the hotel recommendation, but don’t you think it’s odd, maybe even inappropriate?”

“Why’s that? Are you afraid that I’ll inform your husband of your whereabouts?”

“Cut the shit. Why are you being so helpful? What’s the real motive here?”

“Listen, believe it or not, we’re family. Just because you’re mad at Rio doesn’t mean I should just leave you out here all alone. I don’t plan on telling him I saw you. There are no plans to notify him of your location. I’m securing a place for you to stay because I wouldn’t feel right leaving you to sort everything out alone. I have no idea why you’ve left my dumbass cousin. The fact that you packed your bags and just left suggests it’s serious. I won’t pry. Tell me or don’t, but I will secure and pay for your entire stay here. No arguments.”

“If Christopher finds out you’re helping me stay away from him, he’ll explode. The two of you already have a strenuous relationship.”

“If he finds out. Then he’ll just have to get over it. I honestly don’t give a damn, darlin’.”

“What are you even doing in California, Nick?”

“I’m here on business.”

“What kind of business?”

“I’ll answer that once you explain why you left your husband. What exactly did my cousin do, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes at Nick, you walked over to the hotel clerk. She greeted you with a warm welcome, offering you help. Giving her your last name, she informed you that you were staying in the penthouse. About to object and ask for something smaller and less expensive, Nick interjected.

“It’s already been taken care of, cousin.”

Your head snapped in his direction with an incredulous expression.

“Are you out of your mind? No, on second thought, you're not paying for my stay here. I’m not letting you put me in a penthouse and allow people to think I’m your whore. Do you have any idea how that will look, Nick? Are you crazy? You must want Christopher to kill both of us. No wonder you two don’t get along. You love pushing his buttons. The whole damn family’s crazy.”

“Are you finished with your little tirade?”

“I see that you’re also a sarcastic asshole like Christopher.”

“Did you miss the point where I had no intentions of Rio finding out? Just take the room, and enjoy the luxury. I’m sure my cousin has been putting you up in the nicest of places since the day he laid eyes on you.”

“I’m starting to feel like you’re implying I’m a gold digger. Tread lightly. I’d hate to have to kick you in the nuts. Now do us both a solid and change the damn room. Be glad that I’m accepting your help, to begin with.”

“I think it’s best if you know something. I'm just as pushy and controlling as your old man, sweetheart. We both know I’m helping and paying, no matter what you say.”

“Switch. The. Damn. Room,” you growled.

“Fine. Jesus, you’re just as stubborn as your husband.”

“That offer to kick you in the balls still stands. Please stop tempting me.”

“I have a business meeting here at the hotel. I made arrangements for my associate to stay here for a few days. He’s a man of luxury. I’ll switch the rooms for the two of you.”

“Yes, do that, Nick.”

“I’ve got to admit I enjoy hearing you say my name.”

You had grown tired of his antics and landed a sharp jab on his chest.

“One more inappropriate comment and I’ll leave to figure things out myself. I don’t know what you think is happening between Christopher and me, but we are married.”

Not for long, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Even if I were single, I wouldn’t give you a second glance, honey. Please do not fool yourself.”

“Why is that? Am I not rough enough around the edges, like your hubby?”

“You honestly want to know?’

Nick shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “sure, why not?”

“You’re overly arrogant, and your sense of entitlement is ridiculous.”

He started to interject, but you pressed on.

“I’m no fool, Nick. Deep down inside, you’re hoping that somehow, some way, Rio finds out. I see you. You’ve been sparring with my husband his entire life. You’ve spent your life trying to prove that you are the bigger, better man than Rio. What’s the difference between you two? Nick, you’ve spent your entire existence having everything handed to you. All while my husband did the heavy lifting, grunt work, and the bids. Or have you forgotten about that? Rio earned his empire. He got it out the mud. You just sat and watched, sticking your hand out to take a chunk when it was all said and done. While Rio can be arrogant, it’s warranted. He can talk his shit and back it up.”

Although I’m pissed to the highest level and treading the waters of divorce, I’ll be damned if he sits here and insults everything Rio has worked hard to accomplish.

“Do not flatter yourself. You’re nowhere near half the man my husband is.”

Even if he is a cheating ass bitch.

“Such a beautiful, passionate rebuttal, and yet you’re here. With me, might I add, after walking out on mi primo. Let’s just call a truce. I’ll try not to flirt with you, but I won’t lie and say my cousin doesn’t have good taste,” he teased.

I just insulted him, and he’s still thirsty. Lord, help me.

“For the love of God, Nick!”

“Okay, I’ll back off. Now let’s get you settled into your room, shall we? I’ll accompany you back to your car. Carry your bags up to your room,” he responded, throwing his hands up in surrender.

With squared shoulders, you lifted your chin into the air.

“That won’t be necessary. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“Why do I feel you’re trying to get away from me? Are my good looks too much of a temptation for you?”

“Boy, stop! Don’t nobody want your shallow, overconfident, big-headed ass.”

“You’re so mean, mama.”

Did this motherfu-I know he didn’t just say that! Now he’s pushing it!

Moving closer, you crowded his space. The smirk dancing along the corners of his lips proved he knew the nickname he used was out of line and disrespectful. You looked around. Making sure he’d be the only one to hear what you had to say. Through clenched teeth, your words dripped with venom.

“So long as we both have breath in our bodies, don’t you ever make the mistake of calling me that again. Please do not get it confused or twisted. Rio did not marry a weak bitch. Call me that again. I’ll do Rio a solid and spray you full of bullets myself.”

“Aww, why not, sweetheart? Does it make you miss hubby?”

“Keep playing with me, Nick. It won’t be funny to you when I want to laugh too. I’m over this conversation. Thank you for the room. Now, leave me alone. Go make yourself someone else’s problem.”

“Fine. I’ll come by and check on you later, prima.”

“No, you will not. Goodbye, Nick.”

If Christopher finds out about this, he will lose the little sense he has left. Wait, why do I even care? It’s fuck him from here on out.

“I Gave You More Than You Wanted. I Gave You More Than You Needed. So Tell Me, How Does It Feel To Lose The One You Believe In?”

-Chloë.

The suite turned out to be very spacious and elegant. Much better than the cramped room you had stayed in the night before. You trudge through the doorway of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. It hadn’t taken long for you to unpack and settle in. Fresh out of a hot shower, you mope to the bed and fling yourself backward. Thoughts race through your head. You hadn’t taken the time to soak in everything. You were too busy trying to run from the situation at hand. Yes, there had been many crying sessions and stewing in anger. Now that you were in another state and settled, it hit you.

Did I just walk away from everything I’ve known for the last four years? The one person I trusted with my heart. My soul. He ripped it out and stepped on it. The audacity. The unmitigated gall to play with my love and emotions. Did he? Rio did that shit, right? How can he possibly have a reasonable explanation?

“You Never Miss A Good Thing ‘Til It Leaves You. And Finally, I Relaize That I Need You. I Want You Back. Baby Girl, I Need You Back. Gotta Have You Back, Babe.”

-Usher.

Just as the tears started to roll down your face, a call came through. You huffed, tapping the ignore button. Seconds later, it started again. The call went unanswered a second time, and a text came through.

It’s me. Please answer your phone.

The phone lit up once more. With a heavy sigh, you accepted the call.

“What do you want, Mick? I don’t want to talk to him, and he knows that.”

“Since you won’t communicate with him. I’m in charge of finding out if you’re okay. I’d personally like to know myself. You good boss lady?”

“Mentally and emotionally, we both know the answer is no. Physically? I’m breathing and somewhat eating. That’s the best I can give you. I appreciate you checking on me. As for your boss? He can go fuck himself. Goodbye, Mick.”

“Hold up, boss lady. I need to see it for myself.”

Mick sent a FaceTime request. With an irritated sigh, you angle the camera so he’d only see your face and a white wall. You begrudgingly accepted the call.

“See. Just fine.”

He frowned as he looked at your red puffy eyes. Mick could tell you hadn’t been sleeping much.

“Yes, I’m aware my eyes are puffy. I’ll be fine. Bye, Mick.”

Mick was about to plead with you to come home, but his face vanished from the screen. Your eyes sparked with resentment and anger as Rio appeared.

“Mama…”

“What part of I don’t want to speak to you don’t you comprehend,” you spat.

“Can you just fuckin’ listen to me?”

“You suddenly have so much to say! That’s because you no longer have me sitting at home. I’m no longer playing my role as your stupid little unsuspecting wife. No, not anymore. Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t call, don’t text me. Tell your boys to stop looking for me. There is nothing we need to discuss!” “Oh, I’ma keep calling and texting. Please, believe me. Mama, I will find you. You’re coming home; we gon’ work this shit out. Just let me explain everything. You’ll feel silly when it’s all said and done, darlin’.”

“You Didn’t Say It, But You Said It…”

-Chloë.

“Did you fuck that bitch, Rio?”

He looked at you with anger written on his face as his jaw flexed.

“That’s what the fuck I thought. Silence speaks volumes. Fuck out my face. Go find your whore and live a shitty life.”

“Ma-.”

You ended the FaceTime, not giving him another moment of your time.

I'm Going Out Of My Mind, And I'm Running Out Of Time. Oh, I Just Wish I Could Find You, Girl.

-Usher.

Rio stood there, rage coursing through his body. He gripped the phone in his hand tightly, “Fuck!”

“Anything I can do,” Mick questioned.

Rio took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He handed Mick his phone.

“Let’s take a ride. Red better have a plan. If I don’t get my wife back soon, it’s game over for her.”

“You think she’s the reason behind this?”

“It doesn’t appear that she knows what’s going on. We both know that her innocent deer-in-headlights expression can sometimes be a facade.”

“You’re right about that.”

“We have to find her. I have to fix this. Real shit, man, I need her. I love that stubborn ass woman.”

“Then let’s handle business and get her back.”

“Loved You More Than Ever, More Than My Own Life. The Best Part Of Me I Gave You, And It Was Sacrificed.

-Beyoncé.

Still reeling from the conversation, you tossed your phone across the bed. Everything was just too much. You were overflowing with anger, sadness, and grief. The betrayal of it all had you drowning. A sorrowful cry spilled from your lips as you curled into a ball. You remained in that position, cradling your face until sleep consumed you.

Hours later, your eyes fluttered open. The sun had set, and your room darkened from nightfall. Your feet flung off the side of the bed as a headache throbbed in your temples. The rumbles coming from your stomach echoed throughout the room.

I haven’t had shit since this morning. This stupid ass man got me going through it. I need a damn drink.

You called the front desk to ask if room service was still available. To your surprise, the clerk recommended the hotel restaurant. She explained that both tables and bar space were available. You thanked her for the recommendation as you dug through your wardrobe.

Let me at least look presentable. I can’t be walking around this nice hotel looking bummy. If I play my cards right, I may find my next husband. Nope, scratch that. Fuck these cheating ass men.

Rio sat slumped in the passenger seat with Mick at the wheel. Leaning back on the headrest with his hood pulled up. Rio sat there as his mind kept going over everything. They pulled into the park, waiting for dingbat and her crew. Once they were in sight, Rio gave his boy a nod. Mick exited the car, exchanging duffle bags with Beth. She told him she would have the next one ready at the appointed time.

“Did you find a way to handle the situation we discussed the other day?”

Beth shook her head with pleading eyes. She promised to find a way to get to the bottom of it. Mick nodded in reply. As she started to leave, Mick halted everyone’s movements.

“Backseat now. We’re going for a ride.”

With a frightened look, Beth started walking toward the vehicle. Mick stopped her again.

“Not you. I’m talking to you half pint,” Mick ordered, pointing at Annie.

Annie’s eyes stretched wide as the three women gawked at him. With a devious smile, he taunted, “don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of her.”

Beth walked over to the passenger window and pounded on it. She took two steps back when Rio rolled down his window. The look he gave stole the breath from her lungs.

“Is there a problem, darlin’,” his question dripped with danger.

“I told you I would get you answers. I-I just need a little more time.”

“That’s cool, but you may want to watch your nephew for little sister. His mama’s going to kick it with Mick for a bit. Got a little side hustle for her.”

“I can do it.”

“Did I ask you to?” Rio snapped.

“Please keep her safe,” she whimpered.

“Get me that information. Baby sister will come back better than she left. Stay safe, Elizabeth. We don’t want anything bad happening to the little mama to be right? It’s not very responsible of you to be downing liquor bottles, don’t you think,” Rio questioned in a knowing tone.

Elizabeth looked at him with fear in her eyes.

“I notice everything, darlin’. We’re going to take a ride tomorrow. Just the two of us. Check on the little bambino.”

He rolled up his window before she could say anything else. They sped off, leaving Beth to explain everything to Ruby.

Not wanting to turn too many heads, you settled on a simple black dress. You figured it was appropriate, given that it matched your mood. The form-fitting bodycon paired well with the dark red heeled sandals and lipstick you sported. Checking that the room key was inside your handbag, you exited the room.

The hostess gave you a warm greeting. She granted your request for a seat at the bar. As you claimed your spot, the gentleman behind the bar asked for your drink of choice. His eyes had roamed your body from the minute you sat down. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Prepared to answer his question with disinterest, someone stepped up next to you. Strong hands braced against the top of the bar. A silky baritone sounded, making your breath hitch.

Are you serious? Who else am I going to run into? This day is beyond me. Maybe it’s not him. I have to be trip-.

“She’ll have a whiskey sour. That’s what she used to drink whenever a frown touched that beautiful face.”

Yes. That would be the one and only.

You turned your head slowly to take in the familiar voice. His face was as beautiful as you had remembered it.

“Hello, mi amor. May I join you? I could use a drink myself.”

Confusion and shock danced across your face. You looked back and forth between the thirsty bartender and your long-lost friend. His eyes connected with yours as that handsome smile crept across his face. He signaled for the bartender to go ahead with the order. Taking the seat next to you, he chuckled at your expression.

“It’s nice to see you after all these years, querida. What brought you back here? Last I checked, you were happily in love. Are you and the husband here on business?”

Hearing him mention Rio snapped you out of it.

“Miguel,” you whispered.

His eyes crinkled as he gave you another beaming smile.

“It’s good to see you again. How have you been? Are you enjoying married life? What’s it been a year or two since the I Do’s?”

The smile that had occupied your lips for a moment faltered. Your eyes started to water as you looked away and faced the bar. Miguel’s hand covered yours gently.

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Just as you were about to answer him, a familiar pain in your ass sounded off behind the two of you.

“Yes, prima. I’d like to know what’s going on as well. Most importantly, how do you know my associate here,” Nick questioned.

Nick waited for an answer as he sat there looking smug. A knowing look crept onto his face as if he had discovered a secret.

“How do you two know each-wait? Prima? You’re related to her husband?”

“What business are you two dealing in? Are you working with Rio, Miguel?”

Before he could answer, Nick answered for him.

“Relax, prima. It’s my business deal. Rio isn’t involved. We do have individual businesses. We butt heads too much to do everything together.”

“I wouldn’t do business with your husband without telling you, querida. Then there is the fact that we’ve never met in person. The meeting is my first encounter with your cousin. I’m sure you know Rio wouldn’t want to go into business with me.”

“And why is that? He used to tap that or something, prima? Maybe I should give Rio a call.”

“Are you interested in talking about business or not, Nick? That is the only thing that needs to be questioned or discussed,” Miguel responded in an aggravated tone.

“Hey, whatever you say, man. She knows I’m just teasing.”

“Then perhaps you should find someone else to aggravate. The lovely lady certainly doesn’t enjoy it. Is our table ready?”

“Yes,” Nick bit back.

“Then let’s get this over with. I do have other business to attend to. You have my attention for the next hour. We aren’t starting on a good note, wouldn’t you agree, Nick? You need to fix that. I assume the warehouse visit has been scheduled and prepped for tomorrow. Let’s make our way to our reserved table.”

“Right this way.”

Miguel’s hand gave your shoulder a light squeeze before he got up to follow Nick.

“I’m sure you still have Nestor’s number,” he asked, tilting his head toward his security/cousin.

“If you need anything, give me a call. It was a pleasure running into you, querida.”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded softly. Turning back to the bar, you downed the whiskey sour. Your fingers tapped the bar for another. The drink was halfway to your lips when Rio started blowing your phone up. With a deep sigh, you ignore it and turn your phone off.

“Bartender? Go ahead and bring me two more.”

The universe is funny as fuck. This man’s going to find me. I can just feel it.

You rubbed your temples as you contemplated where to go from here. One hour, four drinks later, you sat there wallowing in your pain. Thankfully you had made a conscious decision after the last drink to switch to a glass of red wine. Feeling buzzed, you decided it would be your last drink of the night. Taking your time with it, you nursed it for a while. Just as you had swirled the remaining liquid in its glass, Miguel reclaimed his seat from earlier.

“A penny for your thoughts, querida?”

Your eyes drifted from the stem of your wine glass to Miguel’s face. He noticed that you were slightly inebriated. His hand reached up and brushed your hair out of your face. The palm of his hand rested on your cheek.

“Don’t you have other meetings to get to?”

“I just wanted that smug asshole to hurry up and discuss the deal. The sooner we did that, the quicker your dear cousin would be gone,” he replied sarcastically.

“Hmm. Smug bastard, huh? That best describes his thick-headed ass,” you toast, downing the last of the wine.

“You shouldn’t be drinking at a bar by yourself, amor. I’ve watched half the men in here ogle you the entire time you’ve been here. Come. Nestor and I will escort you to your room.”

Miguel didn’t want to give you time to protest or continue drinking. He paid your tab and held his hand out. You stared at it for a moment.

“Though you’re wearing heels, those cute little legs still dangle from the stool. Come, sweetheart. I promise to be a respectable gentleman. I don’t make it a habit of approaching married women,” he chuckled.

Not giving it any more thought, your hand gently grasped as he helped you down. The elevator ride was quiet. That was until you blurted the one question that lingered in the back of your mind.

“Where’s your wife, Miguel?”

You noticed how his jaw ticked, nostrils flaring slightly.

“She had other plans tonight,” he answered.

Before you could ask him to elaborate, the elevator dinged.

“I do believe this is your floor.”

Miguel placed his hand on the small of your back. Nestor stepped aside, allowing you two to step out first. He asked for your hotel key as you walked down the hall. You turned the corner as you placed the key card in his hand.

“You said the first door on the left, right?”

“Ye-.”

You lost your train of thought as you started to panic. There was a large bouquet of yellow roses in front of your door.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong, querida,” Miguel asked as he rubbed the small of your back.

The worry in your eyes set off alarm bells in his mind. Miguel took a look and noticed the flowers. The distress about possibly working with Rio. The teasing from Nick. He turned to face you, blocking the view of your door. His hand caressed your face.

“Tell me the truth. Are you in danger? Did you leave your husband, querida,” he whispered as he searched your eyes for the truth.

No longer able to keep the emotions bottled up, your lip trembled as the tears slipped down your face. You nodded slowly. Miguel frowned at the response. He pulled you into an embrace as you cried into his chest. His hands rubbed your back as he attempted to soothe you.

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments. Pulling back from his embrace, you wiped at your tears. Miguel’s hands slid up and down your arms.

“Did he hurt you,” he asked, jaw ticking again.

“Rio would never put hands on me. He-he.”

Unable to finish the sentence, a fresh set of tears spilled.

“Okay, okay. Shhh. I think I’m starting to understand. Come here.”

He embraced you again. Once he calmed you, Miguel escorted you to the door. He nodded at Nestor, signaling him to pick up the flowers. Unlocking your suite, he grabbed the flowers and followed you inside.

“Thanks for getting me here safely. Sorry, I just unloaded all my emotions on you like a crazy person.”

“It’s fine, querida. That’s what friends are for. We were close once. Lost time won’t affect that.”

His thumbs swept residual tears away. He bent to your feet and helped you out of your heels. Standing, he grabbed your hand and held it. His finger lifted your chin.

“Try and get some rest. Come deadbolt the door behind me.”

Following him to the door, you watched as he opened the suite door. Stepping into the hallway, he turned to speak with Nestor.

“Have one of the other men come and watch her door for the night. If it’s not me, no one gets in here. Don’t even let them knock. Watch the door until your replacement gets here.”

Nestor nodded in agreement taking his position in front of your door. Miguel turned to you, his hand running down your arm again.

“If you need me, I’m on the top floor. Just ask whoever is guarding the door to call me. Better yet, here. Call me if you need anything.”

Miguel handed you a card that had both his business and personal number.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll be fine, Miguel. Rio’s just adamant about us staying together. He would never physically harm me.”

“You can’t blame him for wanting to work it out. Any man would be a fool not to fight for you. Still, if you need me, call me.”

“Yeah, because Emily would just love that. She’s never been fond of me.”

“Don’t worry about her. I’m the least of my wife’s worries at the moment.”

No longer wanting to discuss his personal life, Miguel pecked your forehead.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Locking the deadbolt behind him, you made your way to the bedroom. Stripping out of the tight dress, you bundled up in a complimentary robe. Falling into the couch, you turned your phone back on. Six texts and two voicemails. You rolled your eyes. Noticing the flowers, you mumbled to yourself, “fucking Nick probably snitched. Little shit.”

You snatched the card from the bouquet and flipped it over. Your breathing sped up as your mind started to race.

What the fuck? I don’t need this shit. What next?

Hands trembling, you re-read the card.

“I see hubby’s out of the picture. Who’s going to protect you now? What better way to kick Rio when he’s down? He would probably be beside himself if his precious jewel came up missing. Stay safe, pretty lady.”

To top it off, now I have to run from his ops too? You have to be shitting me!

Snatching the door open, Nestor saw the look of fright in your eyes.

“The flowers aren’t from my husband. I’m pretty sure whoever sent them just threatened me. Tell Miguel I appreciate everything he did tonight, but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Nestor talked you down. He instructed you to grab anything needed for the night and lock up. In less than twenty minutes, Nestor was escorting you to Miguel. He was anxiously waiting for your arrival. His hands instantly cradled your face.

“You’re staying with me for the night. We’ll figure out where you’ll go from here in the morning. Sleep in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

“That’s nonsense. I can sleep on the couch.”

“No, you won’t. No arguments.”

“Why are most men in my life so damn bossy.”

“They also seem to have the same types of occupation. You don’t seem to like men who like legal work, querida.”

“Ha, ha. You’re so hilarious.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Those mentioned tend to be extremely successful at it,” Miguel replied with a shit-eating grin.

“Anyway.”

The conversation was interrupted by yet another call from Rio.

“Look, I'm going to have to answer him. I’ve been ignoring him for hours now. I know his veins are about to pop out of his neck.”

You excused yourself, taking the call in his bathroom.

“For someone who’s always so busy, you sure are blowing up my phone. Go back to ignoring me, please. I don’t have the energy to go back and forth with you, Rio. I’m tired and stressed out.”

“Just come home, mama. I’ll leave and stay somewhere else. Just come home,” he slurred.

“Are you at that stupid bar that demands your attention as well? Go home, Rio. Sleep off the liquor.”

“I gotta be near you, mama. Who's going to protect you? What if someone tries to harm you while you’re not with me? I can’t live with that shit. I need my wife to come home. Come on, mama.”

“It’s a little too late to protect me now. Isn’t it? Don’t worry about me, Rio. I can handle this shit myself,” you snapped, quickly regretting the last sentence.

“Handle what shit, mama,” he barked.

Fuck.

He instantly knew something was up.

“It’s okay, Rio. I’m a big girl. Luckily my stupid ass husband taught me how to use a gun. You know I stay strapped.”

“Either come home or tell me where the fuck you are. I’m going to light whatever city you’re in up. Better yet, I’m about to spray any suspected target.”

“Don’t be stupid. There is no need to start a war on my behalf.”

“I’m not going back and forth about this anymore. Tell me where you are.”

“No, goodbye, Rio.”

“Don’t fucking hang-.”

Miguel stood propped against the door frame.

“I know he fucked up, but it sounds like he wants to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“Don’t, Miguel.”

He placed his hands up in surrender.

“If he can’t do that for you, I will.”

Yeah, cause my husband would just love that. Jesus, be a therapist. I need Iyanla to come and fix my life, bruh.

“I Can Understand Why You Want A Divorce Now. Though I Can’t Let You Know It, Pride Won’t Let Me Show It.

-Jay Z.

Rio had been sitting in his bar for a few hours. Though the argument made him even more aggravated, he took your advice. He wasn’t in the mood to take a chance at catching a DUI. Rio instructed Mick to drive him home.

He swaggered into the family room and lounged on the couch. The house was painfully quiet without your presence. Rio’s thoughts drifted to you as his chest tightened at the thought of you being in danger. Sighing, he closed his eyes in an attempt to shake the negative thoughts. Your scent still lingered throughout the house. Nothing seemed to help him shake the memories and intrusive thoughts. His eyes fluttered open, nostrils flaring. Rio was trying to be patient with you, but it was starting to wear thin. You could be mad for however long, but divorce was out of the question. Could he do a better job at loving you? Yes, and he was willing to do so. Would you be willing to give him another chance?

Rio’s buzz had started to wear off. Blowing out a breath, he stared at a picture of you two. The frame on the console table contained a photo from your first anniversary. Shaking his head, he stood up and walked over to the bar cart. Throwing back another glass of brown liquor, he fixed one more and reclaimed his seat. He asked Alexa to play a specific song. The lyrics hit home as he nodded to the beat and recited them. Song Cry by Jay Z flowed through the entertainment system.

“They say you can’t turn a bad girl good, but once a good girl’s gone bad, she’s gone forever. Mourn forever. Shit, I gotta live with the fact I did you wrong forever.”

What happened to everybody deserves a second chance, mama? Damn, I miss my wife.

Sis can't catch a break, huh lovelies😩😆? I hope you all enjoyed part three. More drama to come in part four! I can't wait for you all to read what happens next. Can't say for sure when part four will be done and ready for posting. I'm still taking things slow. Please, please, please love, reblog, and comment. I would love to hear from you all. My ask box is open as well. I missed y'all, man!

Be sure to check out the playlist I created for this fic. It's on both Apple Music and Spotify. The links are towards the top of this post (in case you missed. Still adding to it, so if you have any song suggestions just drop an ask. The playlist is pretty lengthy and it's best on shuffle in my opinion. Thank you once again for all the support. Words can't express how appreciative I am. Love y'all🥹🫶🏾! Keep scrolling for another bomb-ass mood board (saved it for the end so it wouldn't spoil the reveal)🥰.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

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