#Cairo sweet

[letorip]

i heard your name [ii]

“i want you so, i can hardly let you go, please be mine for a time, now and forever”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after several weeks of trying to run in the opposite direction, you find you can no longer evade the magnetic pull yanking you towards her

warnings: explicit but gender neutral sexual content, being used both physically and emotionally, 'lover boy' is used ironic and is still considered gender neutral, implied teacher-student relationships

word count: 6.4k

A/N: definitely making another already because it’s kind of getting juicy. again inspired by pale fire and hot summer nights.

===+++===

You had always heard that people looked like their pets, but it had never occurred to you that someone could look like their house. Standing in front of Lovell Hill, it was impossible anyone else but Cairo Sweet lived there.

The building stood tall, with white towering ionic columns that reached to hold up the dark clay tile roofing like soft angelic hands lifted to the sky. Everything about the house was big, with a giant, wide cedar porch and a towering balcony that looked out over the small garden in front of its door.

You had figured Cairo was well off from her clothes and general overabundance of education, but this screamed a wealth so extreme it almost wasn’t computing in your brain. Not with your own tawdry house that had only been built two years ago and was about the size of Cairo’s home if you sliced it by a quarter.

You had seen homes like these in movies or on the home improvement channels. Most motels had the home improvement channels on the TV, and you had watched with a sense of awe, sitting on the mouldy carpet late at night with your mom asleep behind you, looking at the muted tours of the homes with a private envy.

Such grandeur was incomprehensible and didn’t exist beyond the screen and TV magic. Or, that’s what you thought until you stood at the end of her garden, with all its greenery and a few lines of flowers, looking up at the front door.

It was quite the dilemma, to knock or not to knock. You could turn around right now, save yourself a whole bunch of sleepless nights and half a brain if you just told her you felt sick and had to cancel. She’d be annoyed, sure, but maybe Cairo being angry was better than Cairo being hungry.

You weren’t all too sure you wouldn’t try to satiate her hunger, and that was a dangerous game to play. Since she had sat down beside you in class, fleeting had been slowly drifting away, and you found yourself clutching onto what little of it you had left, rebuking the witchcraft that seemed to tug you to her.

You were about to do that, walk away, but then the door to the balcony swung open, and out Cairo came, leaning over the railing with a smile, and you felt your own heart clutch to your ribs. She propped her head up on her palm, peering down at you.

“Are you coming in?” She asked, laughing. “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.”

“I’m just looking. At the landscaping,” you called up to her, and it was mostly true, though Cairo laughed like you were being funny. You felt a blush rising to your cheeks. Fleeting, you idiot.

“It’s my parents’ house. I know it’s a bit much,” said Cairo, standing up straighter.

“A bit?” you said, the sarcasm worming its way into your voice. It was a lot much.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling at you again all bright. “A bit.” You smiled back, holding a hand up to cover your eyes so you could continue to stare at her on the balcony in the sun, like your own Juliet.

“Can I come inside?” You asked, taking a few steps forward into the shadow the roof of her house casted over the ground. Cairo seemed to find a playfulness with the question, and you were left there like a moron, wondering why she was laughing again.

“No, actually,” she said. “I invited you here to make you walk over here and then walk home.”

“Did you."

“I did,” she nodded, having fun. “I’ll be down in a minute when I’m done with something; the front door is unlocked."

"That seems unsafe," you said.

She raised her eyebrows at you. "Why, are you worried for my safety?"

You shrugged, deciding neutrality was the best policy. There wasn't anything wrong with saying you were worried about her as a friend, but you knew she would draw some strange entendre. "I would worry about random people wandering in, to be honest."

Cairo shook her head. "Not here in Tennessee. Now go inside. The longer you stall me the longer it takes me to finish what I'm doing." With that, she disappeared back inside, leaving you on her porch. You swallowed the lump in your throat and went inside.

Cairo Sweet's house was much like her soul, in grandeur and in wealth. Even in the foyer, which was where you found yourself, the walls seemed to reach up much like the pillars, raised towards the covered sky. A grand staircase led up to the second floor, and with the soft closing of the door behind you, Cairo called out from up the stairs.

"You can go into the kitchen, I left some wine out on the counter."

You blinked. "Wine?" You said back, making sure you were hearing correctly. Cairo's laugh floated down from the second floor.

"Yes, 'wine.'" You had never had anything like wine before, though the way she threw it out so casually made you think she was no stranger to the concept.

The kitchen was the room right off to the left of the foyer, with a large bay window and some checkered ceramic tiling on the floor. In the centre sat an old gas range stove, a similar shade of green as the walls. The brass handle curved down to the drawer on the bottom, and it looked like a droll little mouth underneath the knobs.

On the white marbled countertop that boxed the stove in was a set of two glasses and a bottle of reddish wine that was three quarters full. The entire room was immaculately clean, with the perfectly angled chairs sitting around the nook table in the corner and the utterly spotless surfaces, both floor and table.

It looked just like those staged houses on the home improvement channels, and you wandered over to peer into the glass hutch, which was piled up with books in stacks around it. The top cabinet held an array of glassware, some of them gathering dust. They were pretty, and you leaned in to the ceramic ones with antique designs etched into the sides. You wanted to own dishes like those, someday.

"The plates are pretty, aren't they? It’s a real shame about the led.” You spun around to find Cairo behind you. Your heart immediately started doing a backflip in your chest. Cairo was no longer in the soft shirt and shorts she had been wearing on her balcony— no. Instead, she was now in a silky cream-coloured dress, one that clung to the curves of her body and hung elegantly from her shoulders in a way that made the tips of your ears warm.

She walked right up to you as if there was no difference, staring at the plate you had been looking at with what couldn't possibly be a genuine curiosity. Up close it was clear she had put on some makeup, her lips glossy and pink and her eyes dark. She had to know she was playing you like a fiddle.

You watched her in laser focus as she nodded at the plate. "My parents bought that one from a village in the Swiss Alps."

"What?" you mumbled, clever as always.

"The plate," she said, like it was obvious. "Most of the plates in there are from Switzerland or China."

"Oh...cool."

Cairo brushed past it, gesturing back to the bottle that sat on the counter. "Would you like some?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

"But what would your parents say?" you asked. Mostly you were looking for any excuse not to, but you were also filled with curiosity. Cairo Sweet hadn't just fallen out of a coconut tree— she was the product of whatever her parents were like and you desired to put two and two together, and for that to make it make sense.

"They're not here right now," she replied, walking right over to the bottle and pulling the cork straight out. You swallowed but followed her over, and Cairo grabbed a glass to pour it into.

"So you live here?" It was a genuine question, and part of you was still struggling to understand that this was just someone's everyday lifestyle. Cairo nodded.

"That's what Winnie asked me too, when she first saw it. People say my house is haunted."

"They do?"

"Yeah," she said. "Lovell Hill. It's famous, or at least around here it is."

"Well... is it true?"

Cairo shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint. Only thing that lives here is me."

"And your parents?"

Her mouth thinned into a line at the question, but she spoke quickly. "Yes, them too." Then Cairo held up a glass. "Would you like some?"

"Uh, no thanks. We should probably start on the assignment...," you trailed off. Cairo was staring you down with a certain glint in her eye. “What?”

"You've never drank before," she said. It wasn't a question, and you could feel heat going back to your face. To any other person, you'd have no problem saying no, but to her you felt your breath catch in your throat.

"Uh, I have, I just don't want any right now," you lied. And Cairo knew you were lying, judging from the smile she watched you with. But she only shrugged.

"You can have some of mine later, then," she said, straightening up and walking out of the kitchen. You followed her like a proper guest, like she was a tour guide helping you through the jungle. You warily tailed her out of there and up the stairs.

On the landing there were even more books, in large, towering stacks near the railing, ended on each side by potted plants and small floor decorations. You stopped, taking a thick paperback from off the top of one stack and turning it over to read the back. “Have you really read all of these?” You asked. Cairo turned.

“Not all of them, no. Most of them belong to my parents, so they’re cheesy spy thrillers and soapy romances.”

You nodded. “My mom reads those ones too.”

“Anyways, what do you read?” Cairo asked, walking over to you and taking the book from your hands to look at it herself. You shrugged.

“For a while there, anything I could get my hands on.”

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, just that my mother didn't take me to bookstores a lot," you said, having gotten comfortable with lying. In reality, you had mostly read travel books and magazines from gas stations, since those were really the only places you and your mother stopped often. You didn't start actually reading book-books until you were about ten, and your mom bought you a kindle for your birthday.

But giving Cairo the truth would mean telling her you were on the road a lot, which would mean telling her about why it was you moved so often, which would mean telling her you would probably be leaving soon, so you lied. It was typically a better idea to vanish without warning one day, off to another state like you had been one giant bad dream.

"Mm," she hummed it agreement, putting the book back down and leading the way into a door that stood at the far end of the hall. "My parents didn't either, when they realised I bought like ten or twelve at a time," she said, tugging you into her bedroom.

It was exactly like you could have imagined it, with a darker shade of green and ebony wainscoting that matched the grand bed in the middle of the room with fluffy, lush bedding and a near mountain of pillows in the centre.

"Well then," Cairo drawled. "Shall we?"

The smirk she was staring at you with sent a shiver down your spine. You gave her a cautious nod and pulled your backpack off of your back.

===+++===

You had your paper almost completely done within an hour of laying down on Cairo's bed to write it, though in the corner where Cairo sat typing hers, she seemed incredibly frustrated. You had only been observing her a little, watching her type what could've maybe been a few words and then immediately holding down the delete key until they were all gone.

You understood to a certain extent— windows were so unbelievably symbolic it was possible to go in millions of directions when writing your story. But you were almost done, and inspiration had hit you from the moment you knew what your symbol was meant to be.

You put the final finishing sentences in where they were meant to go, and put down your pen, sitting up to crack your fingers and stretch your back. Cairo looked up at you, eyes glaring.

"You're finished?" Her tone was sharp, and you looked around the room in surprise.

"Yeah?" You replied. Cairo narrowed her eyes at you.

"How," she demanded sitting up in her chair and slamming her laptop shut.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I kind of rushed it anyhow."

"Let me read it, (Y/n)," Cairo said, holding her hand out. You leaned forwards and tossed the paper to her, rolling over onto your back to stare up at the ceiling while she read it. She had one of those popcorn roofs, with bumps all over it, and you found yourself tracing a little path in your mind.

"This is..." she said after a few minutes. You turned your head to look at her sideways. "This is really good," said Cairo, but in a way that made your eyebrows furrow.

"Why'd you say it like that?" you asked, sitting up from where you had been laying.

"Like what?" She asked standing up from her chair and walking towards you, to lean on one of the bedposts. You swallowed.

"I... don't know," you muttered.

"Hm," she hummed. "I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"The astronaut. The one who goes crazy in outer space from looking out the window on his solo mission. Is that supposed to be you?"

"Oh. No, he isn't. He's just a character I thought of," you shook your head. Cairo raised an eyebrow at you.

"But he is a lot like you, isn't he? Alone, I mean. That's why you lied to Winnie about lunch." She got you with that line. You stared at her, frowning. Your mind screamed LIE over and over, but you knew there was no point. Not when she was reading you like a book. She took another step towards you, until she was standing in between your legs where you sat. You hadn't realised there was any connection with the astronaut when you thought of him, but maybe he was?

"Are you lonely, (Y/n)?"

"No? I mean, I don't think I am." It came out in a whisper; you didn't need to speak loudly when Cairo was so close. You could feel her hot breath on your cheeks like a fan.

"I've been thinking of you, since you arrived," Cairo murmured. Her fingers crawled up your knee slowly, the pads of her fingers brushing the hem of your shorts. She looked down at the small space between you.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"You're captivating," she said. "It's annoying. Shrouded in mystery and answering to no one."

"Yeah?" Pink was flushing towards your cheeks.

She smiled, looking up at your face again. "Yeah. It would be less distracting if you didn't come with such nice eyes."

You swallowed. It felt like everywhere her fingers went she left behind a trail of pure fire, churning up your insides. Your mind was screaming at you to not be an idiot. You'd probably regret this in a month or two when your mom told you you would be leaving again. Stop, right now and save yourself so much sleep, you idiot. That would've been the smart thing to do.

Her hands came up slowly, skimming gently up your neck until they landed at the nape, and you were reminded of the lollipop she had plucked from your lips to place in her own for a moment.

"Cairo, what're we doing?" you managed. Cairo shrugged.

"You ask me that but I'm not entirely sure. I just know it feels nice," she whispered to you. "So shut up and let me feel nice," she said with a smile.

Within an instant, her lips pressed hard into your own. You pulled your head back in surprise but Cairo's soft palms held you firmly where you sat, and you found yourself melting at the feeling. It was messy and it wasn't graceful, but it spoke of the passion that bubbled under Cairo's removed exterior. She started to move against you then, and you against her.

You found yourself entranced at the sensation, and pulled away just to get a look at her face. She was breathing heavily, lips red and eyes wild, and you only came back wanting more, reconnecting the both of you, your hands moving to her waist and then up her back.

"Cairo..." you mumbled, her lips moving to your jaw and then hastily to your ear.

"Mm," she hummed.

"Cairo, I can't," you managed, trying to pull away but finding her still on you. Your mind was yelling at you horrible, horrible things, not only about yourself but about what you wanted to do to her.

"Mm," she sounded again, moving down your neck in a way that left you tingly.

"Really, I just—"

"Take my hands off of you, then," she challenged, in between peppering kisses and sucking on a spot directly over your pulse. You shivered.

"I can't."

"Well, I guess we're at a crossroads," she said. Her right hand slid down your chest to the hem of your shirt, sliding gently underneath and laying itself flat against your stomach. She smirked when she reconnected your lips, knowing she was winning.

"This is a really bad idea."

"You talk too much."

"No, because this is really a conflict of interest. We're supposed to uh..." you stammered, getting distracted by he hand on your stomach slowly getting lower and lower, creeping towards the top of your shorts. "We're supposed read each other's stuff and be honest."

Cairo stopped, pulling away, raising her eyebrows at you. "Are you serious? You don't want to have sex with me —when you've been practically eye-fucking me since we met— so that you can be an honest peer grader???"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"That's because it is stupid."

"I— I just can't do that with someone."

She scoffed. "Are you waiting until marriage or something?"

"No."

"Are you asexual?"

"No."

"Is it Winnie?"

"No."

"Do you like boys?"

"No!"

"Then why? I mean, come on. We both knew this would end one of two ways."

"We're better off as just classmates, trust me."

Cairo blinked at you for a moment, like you were the most confusing person she had ever met. Then she got up off of you. Your lap felt lighter, but also emptier, and you wanted to scream up at the stars for not being able to just indulge this one little desire.

"Fine," she said, and her tone caught you off guard. Most people would probably be upset or angry, but it just seemed like Cairo was challenged and endeared. Like she was going to work out your problem and get right back to this situation, only this time she'd get exactly as she wanted.

She wouldn't, you promised yourself. Never ever. The heartbreak wasn't worth it. Cairo checked her watch. "Could you come over tomorrow too? I'm not done with my story yet, and I want you to read it."

"Uh," you thought out loud. You didn't see why not. Maybe you wouldn't be lovers, but just innocent friends? You weren't so much a monster that you wouldn't be able to stop yourself if you hung out with her. Innocent friends were much easier to forget anyways. "Sure," you said, unknowingly giving her exactly what she wanted.

===+++===

You had gone to her house almost every night for the past week, laying on her bed while she sat in the corner in the same familiar chair, typing the same bloody story that she refused to be satisfied with. It was becoming a pattern, even an unconscious one. The next day had been entirely as awkward as expected, with you trying to act as unbothered as possible.

The friendship was going better than you had anticipated, and you were very pleased with your own self restraint. Winnie had come over too, once or twice, and you enjoyed existing within the context but still on the periphery of a friendship.

Cairo Sweet would hunt you down as her friend or as her whatever-you-were, so you figured giving into one would be the path of least resistance anyhow.

She must have been an insanely picky writer. She wrote every word with an overabundant caution, like she was trying so hard to craft perfection. It was like she wanted her keyboard to drip liquid gold onto the page, and the critics to all collectively clap when she finished a sentence.

"You're like George R. R. Martin with how slow you finish a story," you had said once, out of the blue. Cairo looked up at you, offended, and thrown a pillow in your direction that connected with your face.

"I'm trying to cultivate perfection of the written word," she said, and you rolled your eyes.

"God, writers are so pretentious," you wrinkled your nose. "The only people who like to read annoying writers' books are annoying people."

Cairo scoffed. "Yeah, what, you want to be surrounded by James Bond fans? Stephen King fanboys?"

"That's cool, though," you shrugged. "Gets the point across, isn't badly written, and makes a sometimes beautiful passage along the way."

"Oh, so your writing," she joked, smiling at you. It was an innocent smile, and one that so starkly contrasted the lustful one she had looked at you with only a few days ago. Even in memory, her eyes sent a shiver up your spine.

"Yeah, well, people seem to like it. I guess I’m doing something right," you said. Cairo frowned.

"I don't get it," she shook her head. "And you still won't let me read that first one you wrote."

"It's not exactly something I want to talk about to you."

"Why? Is it bad?" she asked, sitting up straight. You knew she meant 'tell me your dirty secrets' by that.

"I just don't want to."

"Hm," she grumbled, laying back in the chair. "And anyways, if what you say about that thing is true, I don't know why Miller liked it. His book is full of the flowery stuff you complain about."

"He wrote a book???" You were incredulous.

Cairo nodded. "A while ago. Apostrophes and Ampersands."

"Never heard of it."

Cairo shrugged. "It didn't exactly make massive waves. It was ingenious though. Grand and tragic."

"You read it then?" You asked, sitting up and turning towards her.

"Yes, I did," she replied nonchalantly. "I enjoyed it."

You looked out the window for a moment, then back to her. Friends should be friends. "Can I borrow your copy?"

===+++===

"God," you groaned, reading Mr. Miller's book with it held over your head, laying on your back. Cairo had given it to you two days ago and now you were slogging through it, waiting for it to get interesting. "'Human ruins of a madman's love,'" you mocked.

"It's gorgeous," Cairo said. She wasn't in her usual chair, she was sitting by the window with it cracked open, a cigarette in her hand.

"It's not— wait, are you smoking?" You asked, sitting up. Cairo rolled her eyes, grinning at you.

"No, I'm just sitting here with a cigarette lit in my fingers."

"God. Wine and a cigarette, what are you, thirty-four."

"Shut up," she said, putting the cigarette in between her lips and puffing out the window. "And anyways that quote is beautiful."

"Maybe," you challenged. "But what is it actually saying?"

"She means everything to him and he's going crazy for her," Cairo said, like it was obvious. You nodded.

"That's the thought and THAT'S what's good there. That's universal. He's losing the plot— getting lost in the sauce— of trying to sound like he's saying something, to the point where he's losing the entire meat of the message."

"Maybe," said Cairo. "But you said one of your books was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Not exactly the height of literature."

"And I stand by that," You said. "That's actually enjoyable. You don't enjoy reading this, you enjoy being clever enough to read this, when it's saying something you've heard a million times in a million more decipherable ways. And those ways end up being more beautiful, too.”

"Perhaps," she said. "Or maybe I think the writing is beautiful."

"Well then, I think you're crazy."

"You're welcome to do that," Cairo replied, smile still wide. "You probably will."

===+++===

You managed not to cave until a warmer day, about a week after that. Cairo Sweet had previously been a sweet exterior with absolutely nothing on the inside for you to feel a deep pull towards. Only now, after slowly becoming comfortable, was the magnetic pull becoming physically painful.

Winnie had been absolutely beside herself, miffed at Cairo coming down and swiping you for herself. For a friend or for something more, it didn't matter. You were indisputably hers. And after a life of belonging to no one, you thought maybe Cairo took some sort of glee over making you belong to her.

Class was boring, Mr. Miller was fine, your mom seemed to be doing better, and school seemed to drone on. So when you came back to Cairo's house like normal, you were entirely unaware of how quickly you would fail your mission.

You were barely in door before she was running down the stairs, and the look of worry and surprise in your face only worsened when she got so up close to you, just for a second, and then just as hungry and hurriedly as before, kissed you with a brutal ferocity.

You were taken aback. Something was off. You pulled your head away and Cairo's palms pressed to your cheeks, thumbs brushing against the side of your face. She pulled you back and you had to turn your head away. "Cairo, what—"

"Shut up for once, please. Just kiss me the way a girl wants to be kissed."

You could feel every neuron telling you to get away from her. This was exactly what you had said you didn't want. And then there was the other side of you. The one that wanted to take her right then and then. You swallowed.

"I can't do these kinds of connections, Cairo. I told you."

"That's fine," Cairo rushed, her hand resting on your shoulder blade now. "I need one thing from you, and that's it. I don't ask for much, but I really need this."

Your eyebrows furrowed at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You've said you don't want anything, and okay, that’s fine. At least give me your body for the night. No strings attached.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me. We just do whatever this is. You make me feel good, and that’s it.” Her fingers had slithered back up to your hair, scratching gently at your scalp in a way that pulled your focus.

It just took a final glance at her face, for the dam to break. Her cheeks were a dusty red, eyes dilated and staring at you, and though you cursed yourself and your idiot Cro-Magnon mind, your palms went to her legs, tugging her up harshly and wrapping her legs around your waist.

“Shit,” you muttered, highly aware this was probably a bad idea. Cairo wrapped her arms around your neck, kissing you with a smile, and then once that broke, a passionate fervour. It was so much but it was so good. You carried her like that, up the stairs to her room, throwing her down on the bed.

She flipped you over, sitting on your lap like she had been back when the both of you first tried this, and it was all too intoxicating. Cairo’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you back against the mattress before she leaned over, kissing you softly for a moment until it grew into more.

“Wait—” You said, and Cairo sat up, glaring at you.

“You did not get me all the way up here just to back out now,” said Cairo, annoyed beyond belief. You shook your head, tugging her back onto you. Her hair fell around you like a shield to your little private moment.

“I’m not backing out,” you promised, whispering because you felt like you didn’t want to be too loud. “I mean I’ve never … before.”

Cairo smiled at you, looking into your eyes for a moment. “Me neither,” she whispered back.

“Really?” you asked. Cairo raised her eyebrows.

“Fuck you.”

“No,” you shook your head, hand reaching up to move some of her hair out of her face. That wasn’t how you meant it. “…Really?”

She paused, eyes boring into yours. Then she gently nodded, and lowered herself down onto you, placing her lips on yours for another divine moment. It was all too hot in there. She let out a gasp when you tugged down her skirt.

===+++===

It was about five weeks after you had arrived, and you had gone to Cairo's house almost every week day, to continue exactly what had latched around your throat and tugged you harshly towards her.

There, in the milky white lighting of Cairo's table lamp, with her body snugly laying back against you and her book out in front of her, you fell in love for the first time. Really, fell in love.

Not the kind of "love" that swirls around your head as a child and wraps around the leg of the pretty girl in your class who has shiny hair. That kind of “love” where you can't get out a real sentence while talking to her. In comparison to the heavy feeling growing in your chest like a tumour, that was a mild liking.

No, this was the real thing. Adults had always said cryptic things about love, like "when you know, you'll know," and it hadn't ever really made sense, until it did.

As you looked down to watch her nose scrunch from the Nabokov, those three little words took on a whole new meaning. Her dark hair tickled the bare skin of your chest where she laid. Unlike her you still hadn't put your shirt back on, and you shivered a bit, even from under her blanket and her body heat. Her eyes, dark and focused, scanned across the paper, before elegantly flipping past the page with her thumb.

It was one of those renaissance paintings people cried for, in the Louvre, only it was playing out right in front of your eyes. And with that sudden rush of messy emotion, came the dastardly realisation that you were truly fucked.

"You're staring," she said, pulling you from your thoughts. She looked up at you, curious eyes focusing on your own. "What're you staring for?"

You shrugged, the movement shaking her against you. "What's the book you're reading?" You asked. "You seem mad at it."

She hummed, leaving her finger as a bookmark and flipping the cover towards you. The cover read Pale Fire. "That's because it's mostly incoherent rambling," she said. "Makes no sense."

You raised your eyebrows at her. "You don't understand Pale Fire?"

She tilted her head back, challenging you. “And you do?" You nodded. You had written a report during the two months you were in Maine. "Of course you do,” Cairo groaned, rolling her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.

Cairo shook her head, patting the side of your leg with her free hand. “Nothing.”

You sat up. “No, seriously. What do you mean?”

She sighed, closing the book around her index finger to hold her page. Cairo shut her eyes for a second, choosing her words carefully. “I mean... you’re annoyingly clever at something you don’t really care about.”

You laughed. "Careful, Sweet. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're jealous."

"Well, I am," said Cairo. "I care about writing so much, and here you come along with literally no passion for it, and you're out-writing me."

"Uh, sorry?" You said with a smile. But the frown you saw on her face told you she wasn't really joking. Cairo scoffed, sitting up and turning towards you.

"No, I'm serious. You barely even try and you spill some amazing few paragraphs, and Mr. Miller loves you like you're his favourite student," she lamented, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"I promise," you sighed, "that I really don't mean to. I don't get it either, so—"

"—See, but that's what's so frustrating!" She cut you off. "You don't mean to. You don't mean to get in my way, but you do because you're so unbelievably perfect at everything, and Mr. Miller loves you so much."

"Okay, wait a minute," you said. "That's not fair."

"What's 'not fair' is me working my ass off until senior year to get to do what I've ALWAYS wanted to do, WRITE, and then you come along and pull all the praise and probably the recommendation letter too!"

You sat there for a moment, taking her words in, your mouth open in surprise. There had always been an inkling that Cairo was unhappy with having you in her class, but you had drowned the thought out with her lips on yours and treasuring every moment you made her smile with something stupid you said.

You cleared your throat and Cairo was already apologising. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she said, reaching towards you. "It's just so important to me, I get really worked up..."

"It's fine," you rushed. You knew people screamed and said nasty stuff when they were mad. It's just how people were, and it made sense to you. Your mom was like that too, with the yelling and stuff. "Do you..." you mumbled, trying to figure out how to solve her problem. "Do you want me to stop trying?" You asked.

Cairo's eyes lit up within an instant at the idea. "That would be amazing," she breathed. "Thank you so much." She reached across the space between you, kissing with a softness that hadn't previously been there. It was sweet, just like she was, and you breathed a sigh of relief, with the confrontation being over.

You nodded. "Sure." Then your gaze went out the window, realising the sun was starting to set and rain clouds were starting to form. Your hand flew to your leg, having forgotten you were only in your underwear.

"You left it downstairs, remember?" Cairo said, almost playful. When the two of you had gotten to her house, her lips had been so firmly ravaging your neck that your pants hadn't even made it up the stairs before she tugged them off and flung them to the marble bust that stood nearby. You sighed.

"Do you know what time it is?" You asked, getting up from the bed and around to the other side to pick your shirt up off the floor. Cairo also got up, throwing the sheets off herself and walking right over to her closet.

"No, I left my phone at school on accident," she replied, opening the door and flicking through the hangers. You pulled the shirt on over your head and fixed the soft collar. On the opposite side of the room, Cairo pulled out the same cream-coloured dress she had been wearing when you first came to study with her. You paused.

"You're getting all fancy?" You asked, turning to her floor mirror and attempting to fix your absolutely messy hair in a way that it wouldn't be clear Cairo had run her hands through it and gripped on tight.

"Mhm," Cairo said. "Having a guest over tonight."

"Oh. They work with your parents or something?" You said, turning to watch her with curiosity over her answer. Cairo pulled off her shirt so that she was now completely naked. She turned back to you with a smile.

"Do you like what you see?" said Cairo, and it made you blush a bit. You nodded.

"You're absolutely beautiful," you said. If you weren't worried about getting home before dinner, you would have walked right over to her and tugged her back into her bed. Cairo waved you off.

"You're too kind," she said. "Now run on home, lover boy." Cairo disappeared into the bathroom with the dress in her hand, and you heard her rustling around with the sink, probably doing her makeup.

"I... I guess I'll see you, then," you said, left alone in the room.

"Mhm," she called from the bathroom. You frowned, but did a final scan for anything you needed to take before heading out her bedroom door and down the stairs, to where your jeans were clumsily thrown over the Roman statue's head. You tugged your phone and keys from the pocket.

"Fuck," you cursed. Only around thirty minutes to get the whole way across town to your house before your mom started worrying. You walked right over to the door... only to find it was also pouring down rain, now. Dammit. You tugged on your jacket from where it had been hanging on a steel coatrack by the door, pulling the hood up.

You walked out onto the porch, shut the door behind you, and took off running, going as fast as you could down the garden and then up the street into the woods. You got about a hundred metres from her house, that was, until you stopped.

Driving right past you, barely able to see him in the storm, was Mr. Miller. Driving right to Cairo's house in his little sedan. You froze, stopping dead in the rain to watch him go. Even after his license plate retreated in the distance, you felt a sickening sense of dread begin to pool in your gut, one that was already tarnishing your prior bliss.

===+++===

part three perhaps? i also have a tara carpenter one in the works and a lorraine day that's mostly done so hopefully i'll be updating more frequently

[thisonewhocanbreathe]

“we need more complex female characters” the second women start showing a glimpse of emotion y’all call them over-sensitive or annoying. smh.

[clubartaesthetic]

If it's not controversial, it's not interesting

[jennaortegasboytoy]

I'M EVERYTHING BUT OKAY ✨️🧎

[apara-dise-penguin]

.JENNA ORTEGA as CAIRO SWEET and MARTIN FREEMAN as JONATHAN MILLER in MILLER’S GIRL.

[jedluvsolder]

I walked into his classroom for the first time not expecting anything (hadn’t seen him before) then looked at him and was shocked

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Can’t Break Tradition

cairo sweet x female reader

summary: You and Cairo are rivals in the workplace. What’s with all the tension at your holiday party?

word count: 3k

a/n: office life au. Merry Christmas!

————

“So I hear you’re still gunning for that promotion huh?”

You shrug, “Mhmm yeah” you say uninterested as your eyes dart around the lavish ballroom your company rented for the holiday party. The massive chandeliers, fancy ice sculptures, and bustling crowd do little to distract from your real focus tonight.

The rando from the IT department that you managed to find yourself in a conversation with responds. “Is that why you and Cairo have this whole thing going on?”

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps to him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Whole thing?”

“You know what I mean,” he laughs waving his arm off like you said a joke. “Everyone knows," he says leaning in like he's about to share some juicy gossip. "I heard from Iris, who heard from Janice, who heard Winnie talking to Glenn, that apparently Cairo sabotaged your presentation last week so she could take over your clients." He finished cautiously.

Of course you knew what he meant by whole thing. Everyone in your department—Writing and Communications, knew that you and Cairo Sweet were both sworn enemies. Joining the company at the same time, in the same position, had practically set the stage for it—like fate had decided you were destined to clash.

What surprised you is that the tale of you and her had reached other departments. And considering the fact that this was the third person tonight to bring up Cairo to you, it was clear your dislike for each other hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone in the company.

As the IT guy rambled on about something, your eyes finally found what you were looking for. There she was: Cairo Sweet, standing at the top of the grand staircase. Draped in a perfectly tailored red dress that hugged her figure just right, she descended the steps with an effortless grace, completely aware to the sea of male coworkers now openly gawking at her.

You tugged at your red tie, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight against your collar, and scoffed under your breath. “Someone clearly mistook ‘holiday party’ for the Met Gala. Totally unprofessional,” you muttered, the sneer in your voice unmistakable.

“I think she looks incredible,” the IT guy said, glancing at you with a grin.

You shot him a sharp side-eye and rolled your eyes for good measure before scanning the room again. Cairo had disappeared from view, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of irritation as you tried to pinpoint where she’d gone.

Knowing where she was meant knowing where to avoid.

“Seriously, though,” the IT guy continued, oblivious to your distraction. “You two really know how to keep everyone entertained. I mean, the banter, the glares—it’s like you’re living in a rom-com, only without the romance part.”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the crowd. “You sure are right about that. There’s nothing romantic about Sweet. She’s all ego and sabotage wrapped in a designer dress.”

The IT guy just shrugged, clearly amused. “If you say so. Anyways, good luck with that promotion. Looks like she’s already working the room.” He pointed toward the bar, where Cairo was now standing, chatting animatedly with a group of senior managers.

You clenched your jaw, the sight of her effortless charm setting you on edge. Of course, she was already playing the game. Cairo Sweet didn’t just show up—she made sure everyone noticed her.

Determined not to let her get under your skin, you grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and made your way across the room. You weren’t about to let her win tonight.

But just as you reached the edge of the bar, Cairo turned, her sharp gaze locking onto yours like a heat-seeking missile. Her lips curved into a smirk, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension.

“Y/n,” she greeted smoothly, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Enjoying the party?”

“Trying to,” you shot back, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Though it’s hard to relax when certain people keep making everything about them.”

Her smirk widened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, you know.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, your colleague and best friend Glenn’s voice cut in.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, you two,” he said, stepping between you with a grin. “Can’t you at least pretend to get along for one night? It’s the holidays.”

“Tell that to her,” you said, jerking your thumb toward Cairo.

“Please,” Cairo scoffed, crossing her arms. “If anyone needs a lesson in playing nice, it’s you.”

Glenn laughed, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Classic you two. Anyway, don’t let me interrupt. Just thought I’d enjoy the show while it lasts.”

As Glenn stepped away, Cairo leaned in again, her eyes glinting with something you’ve seen countless times. “Careful, Y/n. Keep glaring at me like that, and people might think you actually care.”

With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, your champagne untouched and your pulse racing.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate her, you sure spend a lot of time looking for her,” Glenn says turning around and rejoining the conversation, holding a drink in one hand and his trademark grin on full display.

You groaned internally. Of course, Glenn had to watch that interaction. Your best friend always had a knack for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “Don’t start,” you muttered, shooting him a warning look.

“What? I’m just saying,” He teased, leaning casually against the nearby bar. “First thing you do when you walk into a room is look for her. It’s like clockwork.”

“I wasn’t looking for her,” you lied, adjusting your tie again.

Glenn barked out a laugh. “Right. And I’m next in line for CEO. Come on, admit it—you love the drama. You and Cairo going at it is like some kind of soap opera for this office. My sister says even her team takes bets on who’s gonna snap first.”

You rolled your eyes, though your stomach twisted at the mention of Winnie. Of course, Glenn’s sister would be involved— Cairo and Winnie were practically inseparable. And if Winnie was anything—she was observant. If Winnie was running her mouth about you and Cairo, then there was no telling what kind of nonsense the office was spinning.

“Winnie doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” you said firmly.

Glenn raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure she doesn’t. Look, I get it. Cairo can be... intense. But you’ve gotta admit, she keeps you on your toes. Maybe that’s why you’re so obsessed with hating her.”

“Obsessed?” you repeated, incredulous. “I’m not obsessed. She’s just—”

“Here we go,” Glenn interrupted with a grin, gesturing for you to continue. “Let me guess. She’s arrogant, competitive, impossible to work with—did I miss anything?”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “She’s all of that and more. Trust me, if I could avoid her, I would.”

Your friend smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Uh-huh. Sure. But you’d be bored out of your mind without her around. Admit it, she makes things interesting.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes found Cairo again. She was across the room now, laughing at something Winnie said, her smile lighting up the space around her.

Glenn followed your gaze and let out a low whistle. “Man, if that’s what hatred looks like, then sign me up.”

You tore your eyes away, glaring at him. “Shut up, G.”

He just laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy. But if there's something else going on,” he winks, "Then feel free to confide in me."

You shook your head, as he walked off looking to network with someone that could probably make him the next CEO. You gave up on the champagne and flag the bartender down to make you something stronger.

The bartender, a sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense air, approached with a towel slung over her shoulder. She tilted her head, her lips quirking in an amused smile as she set a tumbler in front of you. "Let me guess—bad night already?"

You sighed, resting your elbows on the bar. "You have no idea."

As she mixed your drink, she glanced at you, her brow lifting. "You’re Y/n, right?"

You froze. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

She leaned closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "I’ve heard the whispers. You and Sweet." Her lips pulled into a smirk. "You guys really hate each other that much, or is it just for show?"

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. "Seriously? Even the bartender knows?"

She laughed, sliding your drink across the bar. "Hey, I’ve got ears. And let me tell you, office gossip is way more entertaining than the soap operas my grandma used to watch. People are saying it’s like the ultimate rivalry. You know, ‘will they or won’t they.’"

"It’s a ‘won’t they,’" you muttered, taking a sip of your drink. "Definitely a ‘won’t they.’"

The bartender shrugged, unconvinced. "If you say so. But honestly, you two sound like you’re either gonna kill each other or..." She trailed off, her smirk widening.

"Don’t even finish that sentence," you warned, pointing at her with your glass, looking around you for prying ears.

She chuckled, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

As you took another sip, you glanced down the bar and froze. There she was—Cairo—leaning casually against the counter, her red dress shimmering under the dim lights. Beside her, some overly confident guy was clearly trying his luck, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Cairo’s smile didn’t falter, but you could tell from the way her body angled slightly away from him that she wasn’t interested.

Your grip on the glass tightened.

The bartender, noticing your shift in attention, followed your gaze. "Ah, there she is. The infamous Cairo. Gotta admit, she’s got style."

The bartender then noticed her pushy company. "Looks like someone’s got her hands full."

You rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp. "Yeah, well, she can handle it."

"Sure she can," the bartender said with a smirk. "But you’re still watching, aren’t you?"

You ignored the comment, setting the empty glass on the counter. "Thanks for the drink," you said curtly before standing and adjusting your tie.

Your focus already zeroed in on the scene unfolding at the other end of the bar. You knew more than anything that Cairo could handle this situation herself, but your legs had a mind of their own.

By the time you reached her, just as you’d predicted, the guy was already retreating, his shoulders slumping with dejection. Cairo’s sharp gaze followed him for a second before shifting to you. Her expression softened, ever so slightly, but her voice remained crisp.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Y/l/n?" she asked, tilting her head.

You slid into the space the guy had just vacated, leaning casually against the bar. "Just doing my civic duty. Looked like you were stuck with a walking HR complaint."

Cairo smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "And here I thought you were avoiding me tonight. How uncharacteristic of you."

You shrugged, signaling to the bartender for another drink. "Not everything’s about you, Sweet. I was thirsty."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a playful glint hidden beneath her usual sharpness. "Right. And yet, here you are, conveniently stationed right next to me."

The bartender slides you another drink.

You met her gaze, holding it for a beat longer than necessary. "If you want to believe the universe keeps throwing us together, who am I to argue?"

"Well," she said, her voice quieter but no less cutting, "the universe must have a cruel sense of humor."

You smirked, setting your glass down. "Or it just knows how much fun we have hating each other."

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You have no idea."

Before you could respond, someone from your team called her name from across the room. Cairo straightened, her professional mask sliding back into place with ease.

"Looks like I’m needed," she said, her tone light but her eyes lingering on yours for just a moment too long.

"Don’t let me keep you," you said, stepping aside.

As she walked away, you couldn’t help but watch her go, the familiar mix of emotions churning in your chest.

————

The evening progressed with a blur of polite conversation and forced laughs as you navigated the crowd. Glenn eventually found you again, dragging you toward a smaller room just off the main ballroom where some of the younger employees, including Winnie, had apparently decided to congregate.

“Come on, Y/n, this is where the real party’s happening,” Glenn said, grinning as he pulled you along.

The room was cozier than the grand ballroom, with dim lighting and a more relaxed vibe. People were sprawled on couches, perched on armrests, or standing in clusters, laughing and chatting over drinks. The hum of conversation was punctuated by bursts of laughter as someone commanded the group with an animated story.

You scanned the room, and your stomach flipped when you spotted Cairo sitting comfortably on the armrest of a couch, a drink in hand and a look of mild amusement on her face as she listened to whatever Winnie was telling. Great. Of course she was here.

“Y/n!” Winnie called out, spotting you and immediately waving you over. “Come join us. We were just talking about your legendary showdown with Cairo last month.”

You rolled your eyes as Glenn shoved you toward the group. “Can we not?” you muttered, but it was too late.

Cairo’s gaze flicked to you, her expression unreadable, but you swore there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

The evening wore on, and the atmosphere grew increasingly relaxed as more drinks flowed. Someone turned on music, and a few people started dancing in the center of the room. Glenn, ever the life of the party, was in his element, cracking jokes and keeping everyone entertained.

Then, out of nowhere, someone shouted, “Mistletoe!”

The room fell silent as heads turned, eyes scanning for the culprits. You froze, your gaze darting up instinctively. There it was—dangling innocently from the ceiling above you. And of course when you turn to see who had occupied the space behind you—Cairo.

“Oh, this is too good,” Glenn said, his grin so wide it practically split his face. “Y/n and Cairo, under the mistletoe? This is golden.”

Winnie’s laughter rang out, and someone else whistled. “Rules are rules, you two!”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as the room erupted into cheers and chants of, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Cairo, ever composed, arched an eyebrow at you, her lips quirking into a half-smile that only you could see.

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as every eye in the room bore into you. There was no escape, no snarky comment that could deflect this situation.

“Oh, come on, guys. I’m not trying to deal with HR on Monday,” you said with a dry laugh, taking a small step back from Cairo and the mistletoe.

From the crowd, Glenn’s voice rang out, loud and clear, “Boo! Loser! HR’s not invited to this party!”

The room erupted into laughter and cheers, with someone else shouting, “Yeah, live a little, Y/n!”

Before you could respond, Cairo rolls her eyes, and sighs dramatically like what she's about to do will take the life out of her. "I guess we can't break tradition."

And then her lips brushed yours in a soft, little more than corporate friendly, fleeting, yet enough to send a spark through your entire body kiss. The room erupted into cheers and whoops as she pulled back, her expression unreadable.

You immediately wiped your lips as Cairo turned on her heel and walked away into the crowd, leaving you standing there, dazed and entirely unsure of what the hell just happened.

You blinked, still rooted to the spot, before your feet carried you instinctively toward Glenn and Winnie. Glenn’s face lit up the moment he saw you, his mouth opening to unleash whatever snarky comment was brewing.

“Don’t,” you snapped sharply, holding up a hand, your voice laced with a warning edge that made him laugh even harder.

Winnie raised her glass in mock salute, biting back a grin. “What? No post-mistletoe debrief?”

You groaned, rubbing a hand down your face. “I hate both of you.”

Glenn smirked. “Sure you do, buddy. Sure you do.”

————

Moments later in a dimly lit private room in the venue, the faint thrum of the music from the party outside is barely audible through the thick walls. Cairo’s hands are tangled in your hair, her touch possessive and demanding as her back presses against the edge of a table. Her lips are on yours, urgent and searing, leaving no space for hesitation.

You gasp softly, breaking away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Cairo’s dark eyes lock onto yours, her flushed face illuminated by the faint glow of fairy lights strung along the walls.

“You didn’t have to look that disgusted when you kissed me,” she breathes, her voice low but edged with challenge.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you tease, lips quirking into a smirk. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

Her expression hardens playfully, and before you can react, she grabs your red tie—the one you deliberately wore to match with her dress. She tightens it just enough around her fist to make you stumble closer—and pulls you into a kiss that obliterates any thought of teasing. It’s heated, raw, and dripping with hours of pent-up tension. Her nails rake lightly against the back of your neck as her other hand fists the fabric of your shirt, holding you close like she can’t bear to let go.

Your hands find her waist, fingers digging into the silky fabric of her dress as you kiss her back with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of your secret into the moment. The world outside could have been burning to the ground, and neither of you would have noticed.

When you finally pull away for air, your forehead rests against hers, both of you panting. A grin spreads across your face as you take in her disheveled hair and swollen lips. “Think anyone suspects us after that kiss under the mistletoe?”

Cairo shakes her head slightly, her lips barely an inch from yours. “Not a chance,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of satisfaction and mischief. “They’re too busy thinking we hate each other.”

“Good,” you reply, your grin turning sly as you capture her lips again. This time, the kiss is slower but no less passionate, a promise that this secret, this fire between you, is yours alone.

For now.

Taglist: @cobaltperun @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88 @101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

[halfmoonaria]

her own undoing

pairing: cairo sweet & female reader

summary: for the first time, one of cairo's actions doesn't go as planned; backfires and leaves her to face the consequences.

word count: 8.0k

author’s note: tell me if smth is confusing

You and Cairo had been inseparable for as long as you could remember.

The kind of friendship where one person's name always followed the other, like an inevitable pairing.

Cairo and you. You and Cairo. It was a constant, a certainty, even when everything else felt like it was shifting.

You'd been there through it all: the days when Cairo's sharp wit earned her more enemies than friends, the times her wild schemes left you both in trouble, and the moments when she leaned too far into chaos, dragging you along for the ride.

People called her trouble, said she was too much, too intense, too unpredictable.

But where they saw a storm, you'd always seen something else—an unrelenting force of nature, sure, but also someone who could light up a room when she wasn't burning it down.

It wasn't always easy, being her best friend. Cairo had a way of taking up all the space in the room, leaving little for anyone else. But you didn't mind—not really. You liked the way her presence made everything feel bigger, brighter, more alive. And when her edges got too sharp, cutting into anyone who dared get too close, you stayed. You always stayed.

That loyalty had been tested before, but never like this.

Lately, Cairo had been different.

Sharper, somehow. Restless in a way that felt dangerous, even for her. It started with the way she spoke about Mr. Miller, the high school English teacher who barely acknowledged Cairo's sharp intellect and sharper tongue. She claimed he was condescending, always brushing her off when she tried to speak up in class. But there was something else behind the way she lingered on his name—something more personal.

When she finally told you her plan, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

She was going to seduce him. That was her big idea. She'd said it with that confident smirk of hers, like it was all a joke, daring you to challenge her.

She claimed it was for her college admissions essay, said she had nothing interesting to write about and needed something that would "stand out." But you knew better. Cairo wasn't interested in crafting the perfect essay. No, she was still hung up on the fact that she was a virgin.

You'd tried to talk her out of it, to reason with her, but Cairo wasn't someone you could reason with once her mind was made up. And when her plan backfired—when Mr. Miller brushed her off and scolded her for being inappropriate—it sent her into a spiral.

Cairo never got scolded. Never got told no.

Her parents were always gone, too preoccupied with their own lives to bother enforcing rules or boundaries. So when Mr. Miller did what no one else ever dared to do, she couldn't take it. It wasn't just rejection. It was humiliation. And Cairo wasn't built to handle that.

The bitterness festered, twisting her anger into something sharper, uglier. She started talking about him like he was an enemy, plotting ways to "teach him a lesson" or "knock him off his pedestal."

At first, you'd tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just another one of her phases. But tonight, as you stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching her scribble furiously on a crumpled piece of paper, you realized this was different.

Cairo thought her plan was flawless.

Perfect, even. She'd spent hours rehearsing every angle, every word, until she could see it unfolding as clearly as a scene in one of those old noir films she loved.

Her testimony would be bold, damning, unforgettable. She'd finally show everyone—him—what happened when someone underestimated her. The satisfaction of it burned low in her chest, warm and steady, as if victory were already hers.

She sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, her pen moving across the page in sharp, deliberate strokes. The smoke from her cigarette curled lazily above her head, the faint scent of tobacco mixing with her perfume.

Satisfaction flickered across her face, subtle but unmistakable, as though she'd already won a game nobody was even playing.

The room was quiet except for the scratch of her pen, a rhythm she found oddly soothing amidst her growing anger.

The sound of your voice broke through the stillness like a slap.

"Cairo, what are you doing?"

Cairo's pen stilled mid-word. For a moment, she didn't move, her hand hovering above the page as she weighed her options.

Pretend not to hear you? Act like nothing was out of the ordinary? The anger in your tone suggested neither would work, and something sour twisted in her stomach. Slowly, she placed the pen down, flicking ash from her cigarette with a casualness she didn't feel.

"I'm completing my admissions essay," she said, her voice smooth and detached, rehearsed to sound nonchalant.

Her words were clipped, her tone dismissive, as if your presence were a minor inconvenience—just another interruption in her meticulously crafted plan. But even as she spoke, Cairo could feel the fragile edges of her control fraying.

Then she heard it: your footsteps.

Each step closer made her chest tighten, a quiet panic rising beneath her practiced exterior. She focused on the cigarette between her fingers, watching the smoke curl upward in lazy tendrils, as though ignoring the tension in the room might make it disappear.

You stepped further into the room, your movements deliberate, each step purposeful and calculated. Your gaze swept over the bed—the scattered papers, the chaotic but purposeful arrangement of her notes. Everything about it felt off, and your expression told Cairo that you knew it.

"Cairo, don't bullshit me."

The directness of your words made her freeze, the cigarette trembling slightly between her fingers. You'd never spoken to her like that before, not with that sharpness. It threw her off balance in a way she wasn't used to.

You were the constant. The one who stayed when everyone else called her too much, too strange. The one who always agreed, who always supported her.

The one who wasn't supposed to look at her like that.

"What's going on?"

She fought to keep her expression neutral, forcing a smirk that felt far less convincing than usual. "What's it look like?"

It was a weak defense, and she knew it. So did you.

Your jaw tightened, and there was something in your eyes she couldn't quite place—concern, maybe, but also something sharper, like betrayal. You stepped closer, and Cairo's heart began to race—not with fear, but frustration.

Why couldn't you just let it go? Why did you have to question her, of all people?

"It looks like you're planning something," you said, your tone measured but edged with something bitter. Your gaze moved over the bed again, taking in the crumpled pages, the sharp handwriting, the chaos she'd created in pursuit of perfection.

"Something that's going to blow up in your face."

The accusation stung, sharper than she expected. For a split second, her smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor slipping just enough to reveal the unease beneath it.

She quickly forced it back into place. "I'm testifying against him," she said, the words deliberate, carefully chosen, like she was reciting lines from a script.

But your reaction shattered her attempt at calm.

The flicker of disbelief in your expression sparked a strange, hollow satisfaction in her chest. Let you be shocked. Let you struggle to process it. Maybe then you'd understand.

"Testifying?"

She nodded, the motion sharp and deliberate, as though solidifying her decision. Standing, she began to pace, her thoughts spiraling in tandem with each step. Her movements were restless, her anger—a low, simmering thing—flared brighter when she caught the way your concern clouded your face.

"In front of the school board," she clarified, her tone detached, as if she weren't actively dismantling someone's life. She flicked ash from her cigarette, her gestures deliberately careless.

You blinked, the weight of her words settling in as you tried to reconcile what you were hearing with the person you thought you knew. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice softening, though tension still underpinned your words. "Do you know what that'll do to him?"

There it was—your care, your empathy, spilling out in the way it always did. Cairo's chest tightened, her stomach twisting with a volatile mix of resentment and shame. She didn't need you to care about him. She needed you to see her. To understand why this mattered.

"He underestimated me," she said, her voice dropping lower, her pacing slowing. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the floor, her fingers curling tighter around the cigarette. "I overestimated him."

Your silence hit her harder than she expected, the weight of it unbearable. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, the way your lips pressed into a thin line, your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

The disappointment lingering in your eyes was louder than anything you could've said, and it cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

"So, what?" you said finally, your voice firmer now. "This is revenge? Because he didn't fall for your game?"

The words landed like a blow, a direct hit to a nerve she hadn't realized was exposed. Her smirk tightened into a thin, rigid line, and her hand trembled slightly as she stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on her desk.

"It's justice," she said, forcing the word out, as if saying it enough times could make it true.

"Justice?" Your disbelief carried a sharper edge now, and you took a step closer, your voice rising with frustration. "Cairo, this isn't some movie. You're playing with someone's life."

Her nails dug into her palm as your words sank in. Flames of anger licked at her chest, fueled by a suffocating mix of guilt and defiance. You were supposed to understand. You were supposed to agree, like you always had.

That was your role. That was what made everything work.

"You don't get it," she said, her tone softening, though it was laced with something almost pitying. "You never have."

"No," you shot back, your voice steady and unwavering. "I don't. Because this isn't you. At least, I didn't think it was."

The remark sliced through her defenses, sharp and unrelenting, leaving her raw in a way she hadn't felt in years. For a long moment, she could only stare at you, her heart pounding against her ribs. Anger swirled with shame, tangling into something unrecognizable, and for the first time, she felt the edges of control slipping from her grasp.

"You've always had such a sweet way of looking at the world," she said finally, her voice turning mocking to hide the crack in it. "It must be exhausting."

"And you've always been too proud to admit when you're wrong," you countered, your tone colder now, the words landing with precision. "But this? This is cruel, Cairo. Even for you."

Her mask cracked at that, the smirk falling away as the anger simmering beneath the surface began to boil over. But she refused to let it show. Instead, she turned her back on you, pacing toward the bed as her fists clenched at her sides.

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think," she said, her voice colder now, mechanical in its delivery.

But the weight of her own words hit her almost immediately, settling heavily in her chest, suffocating her in a way she couldn't escape. The truth was, you knew her better than anyone. You always had. And that was the part that scared her the most.

Cairo's jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, burning hotter with every second that passed. You weren't supposed to talk to her like this. Not you. Everyone else could think she was too much, could roll their eyes and call her dramatic, but not you.

You were supposed to get it. To get her. That had always been the unspoken rule between you. You didn't argue with her schemes, didn't question her decisions—no matter how reckless or wild they seemed. You were the steady one, the loyal one, the one who always stuck by her side when no one else would.

She'd always relied on that. Counted on it, even. But now, standing in her room with your arms crossed and that look on your face—the one that said you thought she was wrong—it felt like the ground was shifting under her feet.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice quieter now but still firm, still pushing.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. The words themselves weren't what set her off; it was the tone. Like you thought you knew better. Like you thought she was being ridiculous.

"You don't understand," Cairo snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She turned away from you, pacing to the other side of the room as if putting distance between you would help her think.

The truth was, she didn't know how to explain it. She'd never had to before—not to you. You'd always just gone along with whatever she said, even when it didn't make sense. It was part of why she needed you, part of why she'd kept you so close all these years.

But now, you were standing there with that stubborn look on your face, and it was like every time someone had told her "no" or "you can't" was flooding back all at once.

Like when her parents had laughed off her dreams of going to college out of state, saying she'd never survive without them. Or when that teacher in middle school had told her she'd amount to nothing if she didn't learn to sit still and follow the rules.

But this was worse. Because it was you.

"You're supposed to have my back," she said finally, her voice lower now but no less angry. She turned to face you, her eyes blazing. "That's what you've always done."

You didn't flinch, didn't even blink. "Not if it means watching you ruin someone's life," you said, your tone calm but unwavering.

Cairo felt something snap. Her vision blurred at the edges, her thoughts coming so fast she couldn't hold onto any of them.

"Why do you care so much about him?" she almost shouted, her voice breaking slightly. She hated the way it sounded, raw and desperate, but she couldn't stop herself. "He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about anyone!"

"And that's supposed to make this okay?" you shot back, your own voice rising now. "Because he didn't care for your attempt of seduction, it's fine to ruin him? That's not justice, Cairo—that's you being a bully."

The word hit her like a slap. A bully. She'd been called a lot of things in her life—manipulative, selfish, too intense—but bully wasn't one of them. She stared at you, her chest heaving, her nails biting into her palms so hard she thought they might break the skin.

For a moment, she didn't say anything. She couldn't.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her face a storm of emotions she couldn't contain.

She wanted to scream, to drag you into her world and force you to see things her way; like you always had. But all you did was stand there, your arms crossed, your expression hard and unrelenting.

The silence stretched too long, filled with the sharp scent of cigarette smoke and the suffocating weight of her frustration. She could feel her fury boiling over, pushing against the edges of her control.

"I can't believe you're acting like this," she said finally, her voice trembling, half with rage and half with disbelief. "After everything I've done for you."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Everything you've done for me?" The disbelief in your voice cut deep, sharper than she expected. "You mean dragging me into your messes? Covering for you every time you screw something up? Cairo, that's not loyalty—that's enabling."

Her face twisted, a mix of anger and something dangerously close to hurt. "You're seriously turning this on me?"

You shook your head, stepping back toward the door. "I'm not turning anything on you. I'm just—" You stopped, exhaling sharply, like you didn't know how to say what you needed to. "I'm just done with this, Cairo. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She'd heard them before, from teachers, from her parents, from so-called friends who didn't stick around. But hearing them from you? It felt like the world was tilting off its axis.

She watched as you reached for the doorknob, her stomach twisting into knots. "So that's it?" she said, her voice low, deadly. "You're just going to walk away?"

You hesitated, your hand resting on the knob, but you didn't turn back. "Yeah," you said finally. "I am."

The door clicked shut behind you, and the sound echoed in the vast emptiness of the room. Cairo stood there, frozen, staring at the space you'd just occupied. For a moment, she felt nothing at all, just the numbness that came with realizing she was truly, utterly alone.

The mansion around her seemed to close in, its dark corners and cold walls pressing against her like a physical weight. No parents. No friends. No one but herself and the stale, ever-present scent of cigarette smoke.

And that was when it hit her—the rage.

Her hand slammed against the edge of the desk, sending a stack of papers tumbling to the floor. You were supposed to get her. You were supposed to agree. That was how this worked. You were the one who told her it was all fine, the one who stood by her side no matter how crazy things got.

But you didn't. You didn't tell her it was a great idea. You didn't tell her she was right. And that betrayal—it burned hotter than anything she'd felt before.

If she couldn't ruin Mr. Miller, she'd ruin you instead.

The thought was so clear, so sharp, it was like a switch flipped in her brain. You thought you could walk away from her, leave her to stew in this? Fine. But she wasn't going to let you come out of this unscathed.

Cairo knelt down, her hands shaking as she gathered the scattered papers from the floor. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if each page she picked up solidified her resolve. By the time she stood, the fire in her chest had consumed every shred of doubt.

You would regret this. She would make sure of it.

___

It wouldn't be hard. Cairo knew that much.

In a school like yours—like hers—people believed anything as long as it was juicy enough to distract from their own boring lives. A small-town high school in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, didn't offer much in the way of excitement. So when there was even the faintest whiff of scandal, people ran with it.

She thought of how last year, someone started a rumor that Sarah Bishop was pregnant. By third period, half the school had already decided the father was her ex-boyfriend, and by lunch, they'd pinned it on a senior she'd never even spoken to. The truth didn't matter. Sarah's denial didn't matter. The story was too good to let go of, and Cairo had watched, half-amused, as it unraveled Sarah's life for weeks.

Or the time someone claimed Mr. Thompson had been fired for sleeping with a student. He hadn't even been fired—just transferred to another district—but that didn't stop the whispers, the snickering in the hallways. It didn't stop people from glancing at random students, wondering who the lucky—or unlucky—one was.

People were starving for something to talk about. It didn't even have to be plausible. It just had to stick. And if there was one thing Cairo Sweet was good at, it was making things stick.

Her mind whirled with possibilities, her anger sharpening every detail into focus. The pieces were already there, waiting for her to assemble them into the perfect story. The kind that wouldn't just ruin your reputation but would linger, infecting every interaction you had at that school.

Cairo sat back on the edge of her bed, the cigarette still clutched in her fingers, her lips curving into a slow, bitter smile. She'd light the match and watch it burn.

And you? You'd have no idea what hit you.

So the next morning, Cairo walked to school with purpose, the cold air biting at her cheeks as her plan solidified in her mind.

She hadn't slept, her thoughts running wild, feeding on her anger until it consumed her entirely. By the time she reached the gates, her smile was sharp and satisfied, her rage buried deep beneath the cool detachment she wore like armor.

Winnie was waiting near the courtyard, leaning against a bench and scrolling through her phone. Cairo approached her casually, though the fire in her chest burned hotter with every step. Winnie wasn't just any friend—she was the one with the loudest mouth, the one who lived for drama, thrived on it. If anyone could spread a rumor faster than wildfire, it was her.

It hadn't taken much for Cairo to spin the story, just enough details to make it believable but tantalizing enough to keep people guessing. She'd started with a nonchalant mention of Mr. Miller's sudden absence, dropping hints that she'd heard "something big." Winnie's interest was immediate, her phone slipping into her pocket as she turned her full attention to Cairo.

And then Cairo had delivered the blow, the rumor she'd carefully constructed in the sleepless hours of the night. You and Mr. Miller. A secret relationship. A scandal so twisted it explained everything—why he wasn't at school anymore, why he'd been fired.

She'd painted the picture vividly, her words dripping with calculated disgust: the late meetings, the whispers behind closed doors, the final confrontation that led to his downfall.

Cairo had been deliberate, choosing every word to strike at the heart of what would horrify and captivate the school's gossipy, bored population. Sleeping with a teacher wasn't just scandalous—it was unforgivable. And it fit perfectly into the narrative she wanted to create. It was your fault he was gone. You'd ruined him. You'd dragged everyone into your mess.

Winnie's eyes had widened, her hand flying to her mouth in shock before she'd quickly recovered, leaning closer to hear more. Cairo had fed her just enough to make it irresistible, dropping hints about where you'd supposedly met him and how it had all unraveled.

The beauty of it was that it didn't need to be true. It only needed to sound like it could be.

By the time Cairo walked away, she didn't even have to look back to know the wheels were already in motion. Winnie would tell someone else, who would tell someone else, and by lunch, the whole school would be buzzing with whispers and sideways glances.

It was the perfect plan, Cairo thought, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets as she made her way to class. A masterpiece of manipulation, tailored to destroy you in the same way you'd tried to dismantle her.

She didn't need to say another word. The damage was already done.

She didn't feel doubt either. Normal people might've cringed or hesitated when they heard whispers echoing through the halls—heard your name paired with Mr. Miller's in hushed, scandalized tones.

Normal people might've felt a pang of guilt at the sight of you walking into school, oblivious to the tidal wave of rumors about to crash over you. But Cairo wasn't normal. She never had been, and she knew it.

Her parents used to tell her as much, back when they still tried to parent her. "You've always been different, Cairo," her mother would say, her voice careful, measured, like she was trying not to provoke something. And her father? He didn't say much at all, but his absence spoke louder than any words could. They were always gone, always "working," always finding new reasons not to be around.

She wasn't stupid. She'd started to wonder if work was just an excuse. Maybe they didn't know what to do with her. Maybe they couldn't stand to be around her.

But that was fine. Cairo didn't need them. She didn't need anyone.

She convinced herself of that now as she strolled through the hallway, catching snippets of conversation, fleeting glances at the chaos she'd created.

"Did you hear—?"

"...Mr. Miller?"

"I always thought she was kind of weird..."

It should've stung, hearing them talk about you like that. But it didn't.

Because this was how things had to be.

In Cairo's world, there were no compromises, no apologies, no middle ground. There was only winning or losing. And if you weren't with her, you were against her.

She thought about the way you'd stood there yesterday, daring to question her, to challenge her. You were supposed to agree with her. That's what friends did, wasn't it? That's what YOU were supposed to do. You were supposed to see her plan for what it was—brilliant, unstoppable—and back her up without hesitation.

But you didn't.i

And now, you saw what happened when you didn't.

For Cairo, this wasn't revenge—it was balance. It was restoring the natural order of things. You'd crossed her, so she had to ruin you. That was the only way she knew how to handle betrayal. She didn't understand how to argue it out or let it go. She only knew how to burn it to the ground.

She'd done it before. She could still remember the look on Taylor Myers' face when Cairo had spread that rumor about her stealing from the drama club fundraiser.

Taylor had cried in the bathroom for weeks. She'd eventually left school altogether. But Cairo hadn't felt bad then, either. Taylor had deserved it.

She'd said something snide to Cairo in class, and Cairo had responded the only way she knew how: with fire.

This wasn't any different. If anything, it was worse. You hadn't just made a snide comment—you'd betrayed her. You'd questioned her.

So she would ruin you, just like she ruined everyone else who dared to cross her.

And maybe, in the quiet moments, when she thought too hard about why she was like this, she felt a flicker of unease. But she buried it deep, under layers of pride and rage.

Because what else could she do? This was who she was.

Now, Cairo was leaning against her locker, one hand gripping the metal door while the other fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket. The hallway was loud with overlapping conversations, but her focus was elsewhere. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings—not really. She was waiting. For you.

And then she saw you.

You walked through the corridor, your head held a little lower than usual, your gaze flitting uncertainly between the clusters of students you passed. You didn't look at Cairo. Not even once. But everyone else? You couldn't avoid them.

The whispers were pointed now, no longer concealed behind cupped hands or turned backs. Someone standing by the water fountain said something loud enough for you to hear, their voice laced with mockery.

A group of girls by the lockers looked you up and down, their expressions curled into sneers.

One of them muttered something—just a single word—but it was enough to send a ripple of laughter through their group.

And you? You just kept walking, your lips pressed tightly together, your face betraying what you were trying so hard to hide. Confusion. Hurt.

Cairo's stomach twisted.

She didn't want to feel it, but she did—a pang of something sharp and uncomfortable, cutting through the armor she'd built around herself. For a moment, her mask nearly slipped. For a moment, she remembered exactly who she had done this to.

It wasn't just anyone. It wasn't some random classmate who'd made an offhand comment she didn't like. It wasn't an enemy or a stranger.

It was you.

Her best friend.

And for the briefest of moments, the fire in her chest faltered, replaced by something she couldn't quite name. Regret? Doubt? She didn't know.

All she knew was that the look on your face—the way you blinked back whatever emotions were welling up, the way you kept moving even as the whispers grew louder—made her stomach churn.

But then she reminded herself why she'd done this.

You had tried to scold her. You hadn't supported her like you were supposed to. You hadn't told her it was a great idea. You hadn't agreed with her.

That was your mistake.

So no, her mask didn't fully slip. The flicker of guilt was smothered before it could grow. She gripped the edge of her locker tighter, her knuckles turning white, and forced herself to hold onto the anger. Because that was easier. That was familiar.

By the time you disappeared into your next class, the churning in her stomach had faded. All that remained was the satisfaction of knowing she'd taught you what happened when you didn't side with her.

And maybe, just maybe, that satisfaction wasn't as comforting as it should've been.

But as Cairo slammed her locker shut, the faint echo of your face lingered in her mind—confused, hurt, and vulnerable. It was only a matter of time, she thought.

She could already picture it: you standing in front of her, eyes wide with regret, voice trembling as you apologized.

You'd tell her you were sorry. That you should've supported her. That you hadn't meant to go against her.

The thought soothed the last trace of unease in her chest, replacing it with a cruel sort of satisfaction.

Because you'd come crawling back. You always did.

___

By the time next day arrived, Cairo had barely slept. She had laid on her bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as the hours stretched on endlessly. Every time her eyelids grew heavy, her mind would jolt her awake again, replaying fragments of the day she wished she could forget.

She had tried to blame the restlessness on the scratch in her throat, the raspy cough brought on by the cigarettes she'd burned through in a desperate attempt to calm herself down. But deep down, she knew it wasn't the smoke.

It was the silence.

An entire day had passed without speaking to you—a record. She hadn't spoken to you during lunch, in the hallways, or even through text. She had told herself it didn't matter, but the silence had gnawed at her insides until she felt hollow.

What had unsettled her most, though, was the memory of you in the corridor. She could still see the look on your face, clear as day—the confusion, the flicker of hurt, as people stared at you, whispering openly. They hadn't even tried to hide it, glaring or laughing as you'd walked by. And you?

You had looked around at everyone but her, clearly searching for answers, completely unaware of the storm Cairo had unleashed.

That was what had kept her up all night. You didn't know.

She had rolled over onto her side, burying her face in her pillow as if that could smother the thoughts clawing at her. She had tried to remind herself why she'd done it.

You hadn't agreed with her. You had scolded her, told her she was wrong, tried to stop her. You were supposed to understand her, supposed to stand by her, but instead, you'd turned against her.

Still, it hadn't gone away. By the time she'd finally fallen asleep, it had been far too late, and the restless hours she'd managed hadn't done much to help. When she'd woken up, the unease had clung to her chest, heavy and unrelenting, like it was a part of her.

It was a feeling she couldn't describe, though that wasn't new. She had lived with that kind of nameless heaviness since she was seven. But this? This was different.

When she had walked into the corridor where your lockers were, it had only gotten worse.

Students were clustered in groups, leaning against walls, whispering and giggling behind their hands. Some pointed toward a single locker, their laughter spilling out in bursts. Others simply walked past, sparing a glance and then smirking as they moved on.

Cairo hadn't thought much of it—until she had gotten close enough to see what they were laughing at.

It was your locker.

A single piece of paper had been taped across the front, its letters bold and jagged.

SKANK.

Cairo's breath had caught for a moment, but she had quickly swallowed it down. She had felt something twist in her stomach, but she had forced her expression to remain blank as she passed by.

Students were still pointing and snickering, some snapping pictures on their phones, others nudging each other and whispering even louder when they saw you walking in.

Cairo quickly walked to her locker, which was further down the corridor. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she yanked the door open and pretended to sift through her things. She didn't want you to think she was the one who had done it.

Of course, technically, she was—the rumor she had planted had led to this, even if she hadn't physically taped that paper to your locker. Still, she couldn't stand the idea of you connecting her to it, of you knowing.

She kept her back turned, keeping her movements deliberate and unhurried, but the noise behind her—the laughter, the whispers—was impossible to tune out. She was itching to look, to see what you were doing. And eventually, she did.

Turning just slightly, she let her eyes find you again.

You were still standing in front of your locker, frozen, staring at the word scrawled across the paper as if trying to understand how it had gotten there.

Your brows were furrowed, your lips pressed tightly together, and your shoulders trembled just enough to be noticeable. It was the way your chin tilted ever so slightly upward, like you were trying to hold yourself together, that hit Cairo the hardest.

Your eyes were glassy, shimmering with unshed tears that you refused to let fall. The confusion on your face was heartbreaking—because it was clear you didn't know why this had happened. You didn't know who had done it, or why.

It broke something in Cairo, watching you like that.

Her mask—the cool, detached exterior she had perfected over the years—almost shattered completely.

She tried to remind herself of why she'd done this. You hadn't agreed with her. You had scolded her. You had stood in her way, when you were supposed to stand with her. And this—this was what happened to people who didn't.

But none of it felt like enough anymore.

You turned your head, scanning the hallway for any signs of who might have done it. But everyone avoided your gaze. Some were glaring or whispering behind their hands, others laughing outright, and the rest simply turned away the moment you looked in their direction.

And then your eyes landed on her.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Cairo could feel her chest tighten as she held your gaze. She could see the question there, unspoken but loud enough to hear in her head: Was it you?

And for a split second, Cairo thought about stepping forward. About saying something, anything, that might erase the look on your face, the crack in your voice that would inevitably follow if you spoke.

But she didn't.

Instead, she forced her façade to stay in place, locking down the guilt threatening to spill over. Her jaw tightened as she turned back to her locker, shoving a book inside with more force than necessary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw you finally move. You ripped the paper from your locker, crumpling it in your fist. Your movements were quick and sharp, but not angry—just desperate, like you were trying to erase it before anyone else could see.

And then you yanked open your locker, shoving the crumpled paper inside before slamming it shut. The clang of the metal door echoed down the hallway, cutting through the noise like a knife.

Cairo didn't look at you again. She couldn't.

By the time lunch rolled around, the rumor Cairo had started had taken on a life of its own. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed voices, none of them low enough to be discreet. Cairo could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating—a storm she had set loose but couldn't control.

Sliding into her usual seat, she kept her head low, poking at the sandwich on her tray as the conversations around her hit her like punches to the gut. None of it sounded like what she had told Winnie. Not even close.

"I heard she's pregnant with his kid," a girl at the next table whispered, her tone a mix of disgust and disbelief. "That's why he left. He's, like, running from the responsibility."

"Pregnant?" another voice chimed in. "No way. I heard she was doing it for better grades, but it got out of hand, and he had to leave because it was a whole thing with the administration."

"She's probably slept with all the male teachers," someone muttered nearby, barely hiding their laughter. "Wouldn't be surprised if that's how she got through high school in the first place."

Cairo's stomach churned.

Every new twist, every new grotesque fabrication, felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. None of this was what she had said. She had been deliberate, precise, sticking to just enough to make it believable. She had wanted to hurt you, yes, but she hadn't expected it to spiral this far, this quickly.

And now? Now it was everywhere.

She clenched her fists under the table, her knuckles whitening as she stared down at her untouched lunch. Cairo never panicked. She didn't know how. Chaos was her playground; she was the one who thrived in it, the one who created it. But now, for the first time, she felt like the chaos was swallowing her whole.

This wasn't what she'd wanted. She didn't want people to think you were pregnant, or that you'd been sleeping with other teachers, or any of the other twisted lies that were spreading like wildfire.

Her breath hitched when she overheard another snippet of conversation from the table behind her.

"She probably blackmailed him," a boy said, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear. "That's why he left so fast. She's got dirt on all of them, I bet."

Cairo's pulse was racing, her chest tight with something she couldn't name. Guilt? Fear? She didn't know, and she didn't want to. All she knew was that she'd started something she couldn't stop, and now it was spiraling out of control.

Her hands trembled as she picked up her sandwich, forcing herself to take a bite. The dry bread caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to let anyone see her crack. She was Cairo Sweet, after all. She didn't panic. She didn't feel bad.

But then she thought about you. About the look on your face that morning. About how you had stared at her, confused and hurt, like you were searching for answers in her eyes.

And suddenly, she wasn't so sure about any of it anymore.

She sat frozen at her table, staring blankly at her tray. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there when she noticed you enter.

You held a tray of food against your hip, walking with a calmness that almost seemed defiant. Your expression was blank, almost disinterested, as though the entire day hadn't been spent tearing you apart in the cruelest ways imaginable.

Cairo's chest tightened at the sight, her eyes glued to you as you scanned the room. She could see what you were looking for—somewhere, anywhere you could sit by yourself.

And for a moment, it seemed like you'd found it. Your gaze lingered on a bench in the far corner, away from the noise, the eyes, the whispers.

But before you could take another step toward the corner bench you'd spotted, someone's voice sliced through the air, louder than the rest.

"That Y/N slut slept with Mr. Miller," the voice sneered, dripping with mockery. "Heard she's pregnant, too. Maybe that's why she's always looking so bloated."

The words hung there, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear, and Cairo's heart stopped.

Your head turned sharply toward the source, and Cairo saw the way your shoulders stiffened, your tray trembling in your hands. They didn't see you—too wrapped up in their laughter, too oblivious to the pain they were causing—but Cairo saw everything.

And then, your gaze shifted. You turned your head, scanning the crowd, and Cairo's stomach dropped.

You were looking for her.

When your eyes finally found hers, it was like a punch to the chest. Cairo froze, every muscle in her body locking up as if she'd been caught in a spotlight.

She didn't dare look away, even though she wanted to. Even though she couldn't stand the way you were staring at her.

Your eyes were glassy, tears brimming just enough to make the cafeteria lights reflect in them. But they didn't fall. Your jaw was clenched tight, your lips pressed into a trembling line as if holding back the urge to scream.

And the look you gave her—it was like a knife twisting in her gut.

You knew.

Cairo's breath hitched as she felt your gaze bore into her, relentless and unyielding. It was the same look you'd given her when you were kids, the time she'd blamed you for stealing cookies from the jar in front of her parents. Back then, it was a childish betrayal, the kind that faded by the next day.

This wasn't.

This was anger and hurt, disbelief and something that felt far worse: recognition. You looked at her as if she had been the one to put the note on your locker. And in a way, you weren't wrong.

Cairo's lips trembled, and she quickly bit the inside of her cheek to steady herself. It was ridiculous. Cairo Sweet didn't panic. She didn't regret. She didn't crack.

But now, under your gaze, she felt like she was crumbling.

You didn't say a word. You didn't need to. The way you stared at her, as if she were a stranger, said more than words ever could.

And then, without breaking eye contact, you turned on your heel.

Cairo's breath caught as she watched you stride to the nearest trash can. Your movements were sharp, deliberate, each step like a hammer driving a nail into her chest. When you reached it, you dumped your entire tray of food into the bin with a force that made it clang loudly, drawing the attention of half the room.

You didn't hesitate. You didn't pause. You just walked out, your head held high despite the tears threatening to spill.

Cairo sat frozen, her lungs struggling for air as the cafeteria noise gradually swelled back around her. People whispered and laughed again, oblivious to the storm raging inside her.

Her mind was spinning, replaying everything in an endless loop. She had wanted to hurt you, to punish you for standing in her way, for not agreeing with her plan.

But now, watching you walk out of the cafeteria—broken but still carrying yourself with a dignity she'd tried so hard to strip away—she realized something she couldn't ignore.

Cairo sat frozen, her lungs still fighting for air as the cafeteria roared back to life around her. The noise felt distant, muffled, like she was underwater. People were still laughing, still whispering, still twisting the knife deeper into the wound she had created. But Cairo didn't hear them. Not really.

Her mind spun in endless circles, replaying the way you'd looked at her—the tears in your eyes, the sharpness of your jaw, the weight of your silence. It was unbearable. It was suffocating.

And it was entirely her fault.

She had wanted to hurt you. She could admit that now, if only to herself. She had wanted to knock you down a peg, to remind you that you weren't perfect, that you didn't always get to be the one who was right. You'd stood in her way, called her out, refused to see things her way. And for that, she had wanted you to feel what it was like to lose.

But this?

This wasn't what she had expected.

Cairo had told herself it would be harmless. A rumor, a few whispers—something petty and fleeting that would blow over in a week. She had convinced herself it was just words, just noise, nothing that would stick. You'd get mad, maybe confront her, and she'd roll her eyes and shrug it off. You'd forgive her eventually. You always did.

But instead, she had lit a fire she couldn't control.

The rumor had spread like poison, twisting into something grotesque and unrecognizable. It wasn't just about Mr. Miller anymore. It was about everything they could find to tear you down. They'd taken her words and turned them into weapons, each one sharper than the last.

And you were the one left bleeding.

Cairo's chest tightened as guilt clawed at her throat. She had wanted you to feel small, to feel the sting of being wrong. But now, she realized what she had actually done. She hadn't just hurt you. She had handed you over to the wolves and stood back while they tore you apart.

And for what?

Why had she done it?

Because she was angry? Because she wanted to be right? Because it was easier to blame you than to admit that maybe, just maybe, she was the one in the wrong?

The truth hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn't done it for any grand reason. She'd done it because she was selfish. Because she was scared. Because when you'd looked at her that day, challenging her, standing your ground, she'd felt small. And she hated feeling small.

But now, sitting there in the chaos she had created, Cairo felt smaller than ever.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. She wanted to fix it. She wanted to take it all back, to rewind the clock to that day in the hallway, to the moment she'd let her anger get the better of her. But it was too late.

The damage was done.

Cairo's stomach churned as she thought of the look in your eyes, the way you had walked out of the cafeteria with your head held high, even as everything around you crumbled. You were stronger than she'd ever given you credit for. Stronger than her.

And yet, she had broken something between you that could never be repaired.

She had expected to feel triumphant, to feel vindicated. Instead, all she felt was hollow.

The laughter around her grew louder, grating against her skin, and she wanted to scream, to tell them all to shut up, to stop talking about you like you were some kind of joke. But she didn't. She couldn't.

Because this was her fault.

Cairo clenched her jaw, her nails biting into her palms as the guilt twisted deeper. She had pushed you too far, dragged you into something you hadn't deserved, all because she couldn't control herself. She had ruined you, and in doing so, she had ruined herself.

This wasn't what she had wanted.

And as she sat there, drowning in the weight of her own actions, Cairo realized something that terrified her more than anything else.

She didn't know how to stop it.

[cann1bal-kitt3n-x]

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

MASTERLIST

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Finally, the group project comes to an end, and you won’t have to deal with Tara’s attitude anymore. Only if you knew what was coming, maybe then you would rather pick that crazy Carpenter...

tags: enemies to lovers, they are on it again, y/n got a new admirer, tara almost died, cozy, fluff

word count: 1.5k

You were currently sitting in a cafeteria. Wereses you had some free time before the last class so you agreed to meet there with Tara and continue with your project.

It has been a few weeks since you have been working on it and moved succesfully foward. Both of you were happy it finally moved to it´s end, this was something that was annoying your lives for these last days. Or more like you were annoying to one another.

„Do you think it can be like this?“ You turned your notebook into Tara´s direction. She red the notes and noded her head. „Great, so we just need to make the conclusion.“

You were sitting opposite of each other in one of the back tables. Behind your back was a big window with a sigh to a whole campus.

„Yeah, I think it´s perfect.“ You looked at the girl in front of you. Her bangs got longer, you wonder if she wants to cut it again or let it grow. She was wearing a dress to her knees with a flowers on it. The weather today was pretty good despite the grey clouds above your heads. It looked like it would start raining anytime soon.

Your eyes scanned the room. There wasn´t a lot of people today, everybody was probably studying at home for exams or taking class. You caught eyes of the girl on the other side. She was sitting alone with just book in her hands and caffee by her side. Your eyes met and she smiled at you, which you return.

It was almost time for the exam so you both agreed to do it later in your apartment. As soon as you both stepped outside you could feel the drops of water falling onto your skin. With fast steps you came inside the campus but still with your clothes wet. You looked at Tara and saw how her strands of her were stuck on her forehead from the rain.

You burst out laughing. The girl turned to you with angry eyes. „Stop laughing!“ She pushed you into your chest and you stumbled a little. Tara was holding her phone with the front camera trying to brush her wet hair and clean the mascara that was now on her eyelids.

„I´ve seen you looking worse.“ You said as you adjust the strap on your shoulder.

„You look worse all the time.“

Your mouth hung down as you kept looking at her back as she kept walking away from you into the hallways of the campus. No, you won´t leave it just like this, she will eat it with a winch.

-

You were standing in a aisle of a small shop by the corner of the neighbourhood were you lived. One of your hands was holding a small shopping basket and the other one was holding milk as you were reading the back of it.

The notification of your phone cut you from it as you put the milk back and took your phone to check the text from Ethan. Last time you shared the class you talked about the video games and how you enjoy playing them. After that he asked you if you wanted to play with him some time, which of course you couldn´t decline.

„Are you intolerant?“ Your whole body twinched at the sudden voice you heard behind you. You almost dropped your phone as you were trying to put in back in your pocket. With a quick motion you turned around.

„Oh, I´m sorry I didn´t want to scare you.“ The girls eyes widen with apologizing look in her eyes.

„It´s fine, you just caught me off guard.“ You said to her. She was familiar to you but you couldn´t really remember when did you see her.

She laughed at your words and looked behind you again. „Yeah, I saw that you were deep in the reading the back of the milk.“ The girl teased you a little. „You were trying to find lactose-free milk or something?“

„Uhm yeah.“ No, you didn´t have a reason to read it you just wanted to and it would look dumb if you said that you just wanted to read it. What the fuck would she think?

„Oh then I think you are looking the wrong way, the lactose-free is over there.“ She pointed at the direction of the other side of the shelf.

„Ah! My bad, looks like you know it better than me.“ You rubbed the back of your neck with a nervous smile.

The girl bit the side of her cheek gently looking at the ground and then up to you. „No problem, if you need anything else just tell me, I´ll be glad to help.“ She smiled.

By that smile you already knew who it was, the girl from the cafeteria. Damnit, she really needed to see you now? In your homeless fit for no one’s eyes to see. You were sure nobody would see you so you grabbed whatever was under your touch. Fucking embarassing.

You laughed nervously and thanked her making your way to the direction she was pointing earlier.

You need to buy this milk now you stupid imbecile.

„I recommed you this one.“ She grabbed the milk from the shelf. „It´s probably my favourite.“ This girl can´t rest, can she?

„You seem like you know what you are talking about.“ You said.

„Oh yes! I only drink these types of milks.“

You softly grabbed the milk from her hands and put that in your basket with a embarassing smile on your face.

„Uhm thanks for advice I guess... uhm see you next time?“ You turned around and walked away from the girl. The vibe felt pretty embarassing so you felt urge to just walk away with her eyes still following you.

-

Tara was now again in your room finishing the project. Every time you spend time with the girl you needed to hold yourself on a leash but these past weeks when you were together, just you and her alone you felt like you were doing some kind of patience class.

How many times you held yourself from jumping on her because of the anger or holding the tongue behind your teeths because of some offending shit she said. That little brat didn´t know how to act but you couldn´t change that. Well, not like you tried.

You hummed to her as you brought her glass of water she asked earlier. The girl noded with her head taking the drink from the desk slowly learning back her back against your gaming chair. You sat back on your bed as always continueing with your work.

„I´m so glad we are finally at the end.“ She said with her eyes closed and her head tilt back.

„Yup.“

She looked at your way. „You know, I´m pretty surprised.“ You rised your eyebrows at her. „I mean the first day I was sitting on the floor and look at me now.“ She spin herself around on your chair. „I´m sitting in your spot.“

„So?“

Tara stopped and looked back at you. „I calmed down your agressive ass.“

„Mine agressive ass?“ you asked in disbelive with a high voice. „Last time I check you were like that. I don´t even know how that much of evil can fit into your small ass body.“

„See! I wouldn´t be like that if you weren´t! I was saying something nice and you are you again!“

„Me?! You- Argh!“ this is exactly what she wants from you Y/N... Don´t let her get into your head.

You breathed out the air from you chest and calmed your nerves. Tara smirked at you, in her eyes she won, like every time.

After that both of you were quiet once again and focused on the work. After finishing you went through the whole thing, scanning it and trying to correct the flaws that were left. Your strong focus was cut by Tara´s deep breathing. At first you thought she was just getting frustrated at something she found in her phone but as the seconds were passing by it was worse.

Of course.

You slowly stood up and left your room. You made your way into her bag that was left in the hallway of the apartment. She must have it here. Your hand went into her bag and was trying to find her inhaler. There wasn´t anyway she wouldn´t have it in her bag right? At the end of the day, her health was depent on that little thing.

When you finally found it you brough it to her. Her hand was already on her chest and her eyes were closed, trying to calm herself.

„Here.“ You took her hand that was resting on your chair and put the inhaler into her palm. She looked at the object you handed her and then up at you with her big brown eyes. You huffed and took her hand up to her mouth to use the inhaler.

Finally after when Tara´s breathing was calmed you stepped back and sat on your bed still looking at the brunette.

„Better?“ she noded at your words giving you a small thank you. She looked somehow ashamed of herself, looking into her hands that were resting in her lap. Suddenly her head shot back at you with wide eyes.

„You were digging in my purse?!“

„I just saved your life!“

„I swear to God-“

[letorip]

i heard your name [iii]

“your lips were divine and you said that you’d be mine, i was yours for a time, now everything is alright”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after finally opening yourself up to hope, everything comes crashing down in a fiery mess.

warnings: being used, references to sex, really really really bad emotional stuff and lots of conflicting emotions, GASLIGHTING*** so yikes

word count: 4.5k

A/N: i’ve altered the timeline a bit so that there’s more of a gap when miller and cairo kiss and when she cries about miller hating her story.

===+++===

===+++===

Even with your fingers sliding out of Cairo, placing her hot slick on your tongue like the sweetness it was and watching her shake, eyes rolled back to the ivory bed frame, you found yourself preoccupied with other thoughts.

From behind her, on the green of the walls as if there were an HD projector there, you caught a glimpse of the scene from a few days before, splashing with rain and the view you had from behind the bush, the greens bursting from the grey sky. Mr. Miller and Cairo. Cairo and Mr. Miller. Why was he driving to her house? What did he need late at night from his teenage student? Even in the rain, you definitely saw him, right?

“—Helllloooo?” came the voice from underneath you, jolting you from the waking nightmare. You looked down to where she was splayed out on the sheets.

Mascara blotted her cheeks from where the sweat had run, and Cairo shuddered, attempting to right herself. She sat up on her elbows, dark pupils blown out and staring at you in wonder. "Are you even on the planet anymore?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at you.

You managed a weak smile, guarding the real memory that was on your mind like clockwork again. Cairo's hands crept up to your unbuttoned shirt, grabbing each side and tugging you down on top of her, her hands threading themselves into the soft hair at your neck. She held you there, for a moment, resting her nose against the side of your face and nuzzling into you.

It was sweet and it was earnest, and had you not seen what you did, your heart would have done catapults in your chest and squeezed her right back. Instead, you wondered if your disgusting writing teacher had been here too. To what extent was Cairo breaking school policy? To what extent did she care? It was suddenly decidedly less sweet to be in her sheets.

"I should go," you muttered into the bed.

"Hm," hummed Cairo, but she didn't let you go, instead tightening her grip and holding you against her. "That was good," she whispered after a moment, right into your ear. You didn't reply, breathing in slowly and finding yourself consumed by the scent of her perfume. It smelled less like flowers.

Your hand went to the mattress, pushing yourself up and off of Cairo, rolling over. Outside the sky was fading to a languid purple colour, and you stared at it, frowning. From behind you, you could hear a rustling in the sheets.

"Is something wrong?" She asked. Her voice was a sickly sweet wave, stirring the pool of conflict in your gut. You swallowed, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. You're being quiet again," she said, scoffing.

"How are you so sure?" You asked. Your eyes flicked towards her and then back to the garden outside. Cairo was sitting up now, crisscrossed against one of the bedposts.

"Sure of what?"

"Sure you know me, or what I'm 'being.'" You looked back at her. "You talk to me sometimes like you do."

"Well...don't I know you?" She challenged, playing with intertwining her fingers. “What don’t I know?” You squinted a bit to see her dark eyes, in the dim lighting of Cairo's lamps and candles. She absolutely refused to use the bright ceiling fan light, and the shadows hid the shine of her dark brown eyes from where you could study them.

You shrugged, unwilling to answer. "I'm not sure either of us know each other, at this point."

She blinked at you, and then a smile crept out like she thought you were kidding. "Oh, are you mocking me now? Are we back to that pretentiousness thing you ramble about? The Mr. Miller and poetry speech?"

You stared at her, unable to reply. See, there was a certain part of you that hoped she was being taken advantage of— a very cruel part of you. And then there was the exceedingly real possibility that came from knowing Cairo Sweet. The that you couldn't help but give you pause.

The thought that she knew and was doing it on purpose. The thought that she was the one seducing him, and not the other way around. The thought that she was far from brainwashed, and was instead choosing the more insidious route. It was wrong, but it also wronged you, and the thought made you sick to your stomach.

Was that selfish? To want something so terrible for someone just to spare your own feelings? To want that for Cairo? Such thoughts had run through your mind several times for the past several hours, and each time you felt like a worse and worse person. Sometimes when you were with her you felt that way.

"You're being quiet again," She said. "Seriously, I'm going to start thinking you're sick if you don't tell me what's going on," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

When you didn't reply to that either, she crawled towards you, laying her head on your chest and wrapping her arm around your torso. "I want you to tell me everything. We're close enough for that, right?” Above you in the ceiling, at the edge of the popcorn thread veins that weaved through the plaster like a map was some dark embossing that rich people had. You stared at it for a while.

"...I saw you and Mr. Miller," you said finally. The grief that came with it was unstoppable. It was quiet, but not quiet enough.

Cairo jolted up, yanking her head away from you and scooting a whole foot away as if a snake had bitten her. Eyes wide and wild, jaw slack, tears already starting to form. You watched her go.

"What did you say?" She asked, but not because she hadn't heard you. You repeated yourself anyways.

"I saw you two a few days ago. Together."

She nodded, but her cheeks were a flushed, angry and agitated red. "He dropped off my phone. I left it at sch—"

"—No, Cairo. I saw you guys kiss." She furrowed her eyebrows, looking...confused? This was when it was impossible to read her. Maybe she'd cry and tell you it was all in your head and you’d know your mom’s condition was genetic, or she'd punched him afterwards and she was going to the school board to raise hell and you could proudly stand behind her in support.

Instead, she simply said. "No?"

You stopped. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"We hugged," She replied, shrugging. "That was it. I don’t know what you thought—"

"—Cairo, I saw you."

"(Y/n), that’s illegal and disgusting. We hugged because of stuff with my parents I talked to him about."

"You guys were in the rain. Kissing."

She reached out a hand, putting it on your knee and staring right at you. “I promise. I don't know what you think you saw, but it was rainy and it was getting dark. All we did was hug.”

"I— I saw you. I saw you two," you shook your head, the disgust at the image starting to work its way into your voice. But when you looked up, Cairo was glaring, looking concerned for you and a bit angry at the same time. Maybe you were crazy, after all.

"We hugged. God, how could you even think I would do that??? Is this what you meant by ‘the knowing each other’ bullshit??”

“I saw him here after hours, Cairo. I really don't want to believe it, but I don’t know how to really trust you…”

“Well whose fault is that!? You’re the one who insisted on being a celibate fucking monk for weeks because you didn’t want any semblance of a string attached. So sorry, maybe you don’t know my childhood pet, but I would hope you’d know me well enough to not think I was sleeping with my teacher!”

You scowled right back at her feeling your previous sheepishness roll over into a boiling resentment within you. “You have a bad habit of jumping into the pants of people who you deem good at writing, y’know.”

Cairo’s eyes widened in surprise, and she scoffed at you like she couldn’t believe it. You couldn't believe it either. "Is that what this is? Do you feel inadequate?” She questioned. "You think I'm just going to run off and onto the next person when I'm done using them?"

“No!” you insisted, cheeks flushing. Cairo threw up her hands.

“I can’t believe I have to sit here and convince you to not be jealous of our fifty something writing teacher of all people. Are you seriously that insecure?”

“I’m not insecure!”

“And I’m not some manipulative mastermind!"

"Then why are you lying?"

"God, are you on something?" She snapped, rolling her eyes. She wandered on over to her underwear, pulling them up her legs in frustration. "Normal people don't just accuse someone of a literal crime, (Y/n)," she spat, but the edges of her eyes had begun to water again.

"I saw you!" But your tone was weaker.

"Bullshit! You didn't see anything!" Cairo yelled, crying now. Gentle tears had begun to wash down her cheeks, taking some of the already splotchy mascara with it. She still looked beautiful, crying like that. "You're trying to blow up whatever good this was with your stupid insecurity! Why can't you just let things be good for once?! I was finally starting to have things be good for once!”

You stopped, feeling her words connect with your chest and sink directly into your heart. That hurt more than you wanted to admit. Once more you were wondering if it had really all been in your head. Was this all self-destructive?

You had sworn at seven to never do some of the stuff your mom always did, but the longer you looked at Cairo's tear-streaked face and sad, brown eyes, you began to wonder if the cycle was repeating itself and it was out of your control.

"I-I need to go," you shook your head. Get away.

"Are you seriously leaving again??" She asked, sounding incredulous. You didn't even look at her, grabbing your jacket and your phone, right when it buzzed in your hand. You looked down, seeing there were over twelve missed texts from your mom.

You threw it in your pocket. Now the warning light in your head was really going off. "I really need to go."

"We're not even done here! What is going on with you, and why are you accusing me of bullshit!?”

"Later."

"No, no way."

"Yes. Goodbye Cairo," you ended, throwing it over your shoulder before you fled her bedroom and down the stairs. When you reached the foyer, you heard her yell from the landing, watching you go.

"For a writer you communicate like such a child!" And then she slammed her door.

===+++===

It was remarkable, just how dull the white walls of your room looked now. In the past several weeks of having lived there, you had barely noticed just how blank they were. All of your walls were like that, ever since you had started moving around. People didn't usually bother to paint the walls of newer modern houses after their construction.

The very reason you had this new outlook was hard to ignore, and every single time you replayed the memory of seeing her and your writing teacher together on the porch of her house, the image became less and less cemented in your mind.

There had been a few branches, and the rain was very thick, and her porch was kind of far away, and maybe it was the wrong angle. Maybe you had seen it wrong, and it was all innocent, and Cairo was just getting support from her teacher that she idolised. Maybe she was right: maybe you had just ruined everything.

Of course, then there was the possibility that it was for the best. The overwhelming reality that you would probably be whisked away again in a month, and it was the realisation that you had stopped thinking about it that made you realise you had lived and loved like you’d be staying with her forever. More specifically, you had been a fool again.

You stood up from the ersatz desk, fashioned with a few cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other, and headed down the stairs at the end of the hall. It had begun to get darker outside fast, and the sky was fading from a faint purple to the lighter black of the blanket of night.

On the couch, your mom had splayed herself out, legs thrown haphazardly over the armrest and hands dangling from the seat cushions. Against the far wall was your television, with the big old crack right down the middle from when your mom had accidentally thrown it the week you had first arrived in town.

She didn’t say anything when you walked right past her, and you knew better than to talk to her when she was in one of her moods. It wouldn’t make it any better, it would make her cry. If you just waited a few weeks she would get up from the couch and want to go outside again. You walked right past her instead, going into the old kitchen and rooting around to find something to eat.

“Hey, kiddo,” she called quietly, and you had to stick your head out the doorway to make sure she had even really made the noise.

“Yeah mom?” You asked, a bit hopeful. Talking again was a good sign.

“I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “Why are you sorry?” There was suddenly the very real possibility that she would announce right there and then you were leaving again, and you were still kind of mad at Cairo and at yourself, but you didn’t want to leave. It didn’t feel over. But then again it never did. “Are we going?”

“For all this bullshit I put you through.” She sat herself up on the cushion and you could see in the dim light of the TV she had been crying, eyes raw and red. “You deserve the world, and not someone who’s just…this.”

“Hey,” you said softly, coming up behind her. “That’s my mom you’re talking about.” She gave you a weak smile.

“Nah. Moms are supposed to be there,” she said, looking up at you. “You deserve to not be alone,” she said. You didn’t know what to say back.

It wasn’t a new line of thought for her. The mournful look she gave you and the saddened apologies for your lifestyle happened usually once a month, and whatever connection you thought you two had would be immediately forgotten by an immediate period of high energy, and your mom trying every hobby in existence.

When she got in her moods like this, you could do nothing but watch her rake herself over hot coals like she was the worst person in the world and not your mother, who you were proud of, and who you knew was trying.

But that thing she said, about being alone. It sunk deep into your chest. There was Cairo’s face, eyes streaked with tears that you had caused over something you hadn’t even been sure of.

Maybe you didn’t want to be alone more than you wanted to confront what was so clearly in front of you. The red flag had been given and you had the hard choice of wether you wanted to step right over it or not. You didn't know what to say to your mom, so you said nothing at all, grabbing your dinner and trotting back up the stairs to stare at the wall a little bit longer.

===+++===

"Okay," Winnie clapped her hands together, slamming them down on the end of your table and glaring right at you. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

"What do you mean?" You asked. She put her hands on her hips and looked quite cross.

"Nuh uh, none of that. You and Cairo. Now." You cringed.

It had been about three days since you and Cairo...fell out? It was strange to describe. Class was class and was just as boring and forgettable as it had been before you had heard Cairo's name and knew she existed. She seemed unaware you were even around, any sort of relationship you two had was just washed down the imaginary drain.

Winnie had been miffed beyond belief. One day her two friends were inseparable and then the next, they couldn't be further apart. You weren't especially surprised she had come demanding answers, but that meant Cairo probably wasn't talking to her about it.

"We just have different views," you shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. Since you had less time to wonder about Cairo, it had become all the more clear how you were irrevocably fascinated and in love with her, and it only made your own fuck up a bit more painful when she walked past you but refused to meet your eyes.

"I'm calling bullshit, kid," said Winnie. She had her eyes narrowed at you, like she was trying to read your face.

"Kid?" you tried to joke. "I'm older than you." Winnie was having none of it, glaring dismissively.

"Then why are you both acting like children?"

You frowned. Would Winnie tell Cairo? Would Cairo even care? Part of you thought she might have been totally done with you. If it was really just a hookup, there was the underlying possibility she hadn't even really cared that you were no longer fucking. Maybe she had moved onto better things.

"Winnie, take your seat," Mr. Miller called, from across the classroom. Winnie spun back around, giving him her best smile before turning to you.

"Later," she insisted. From the front of the room Cairo was watching you both, her eyes focused and sharp.

===+++===

Being back at Cairo's house was definitely strange. The clouds had come back to sit over her roof, hiding it from the sun and the entirety of your walk, it had started to drizzle, soaking your hair and splattering onto your clothes.

You weren't entirely sure why it had to be that day, but Winnie had been less than helpful, and instead just looked at you like you were a kicked puppy, refusing to say more when you told her what was going on between you two.

"That makes sense," she had said, with a weird sheen of guilt. The whole conversation had felt weird, as if there was some unknown truth being held from you, that only managed to make you feel worse. Did she mean it made sense Cairo needed help with her parents? That was what you thought at least. It made the most sense, what with her needing comforting from Mr. Miller.

The whole ordeal had only managed to make you feel worse about confronting her about it and not leaving it up to Cairo to set her own boundaries. You decided right then and there that it meant you needed to apologize.

You weren't even sure she was home, now that you thought about it. The house looked a bit dark from down the green, but it was a rainstorm, so maybe that was normal for Tennessee.

You wandered right up to her door, dripping onto her porch with the expensive real wood and feeling a little bit bad about it. The lights were all out except for the one at the top of the stairs where you knew her room was. She was definitely there.

Your finger went to ring the bell when you stopped, noticing the crack in the door from the frame. It was propped open with a sandal from the nearby shoerack that sat in the mudroom and you frowned, feeling your mind jumping towards the worst possibilities. She seemed to leave the door unlocked all the time, but having it cracked it open was new.

There weren't any instructions for what to do in this kind of situation, and even if there had been, you had failed to ever come across a similar situation anyhow. You did the best thing you could think of, pushing the door open and calling out Cairo's name over the threshold.

No response. Fantastic. You shut your eyes and sighed deeply, before stepping inside. It was normal for the most part, but then your eyes saw the smashed plant pot right there on the table in the foyer, and you started to get worried again.

You raced up the stairs as fast as you could, stopping on the landing and bending over to catch your breath. That had been a terrible idea.

When you were finally no longer about to have a heart attack, you called out to her again.

"Cairo?" You said, loudly towards her shut door. From under the small gap between the door and the floor, the soft lighting from her bedside table lamp bled out into the hall. You lifted your hand, knocking.

"Who is it?" Came her voice, with a slight tremble to it. You frowned, pushing your ear against the door to hear.

"It's, uh— it's me. (Y/n)," you muttered.

"Go the hell away," she replied.

"Right, yeah, I was just gonna—"

"—Leave!" she cut you off. "Get the fuck out of my house. Why are you even here??"

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling awfully awkward. "I came to apologise about a few days ago...the door was just kind of open and I thought...well, I don't know what I thought."

"You know I leave it open," she said back, but with the same weird shake to her voice. You blinked. If you hadn't known any better, it sounded like she'd been...

"Cairo, have you been crying?" You asked, worry filling your voice and your mind, too. "Did something happen?"

"Why do you even care?" She asked. Her voice had even more of a quiver to it now. "You think I'm some weirdo." You winced, figuring you probably deserved that.

"Can I come in?" you titled your head to lay against the door.

"No," said Cairo, but it was closer this time, like she had wandered closer to it.

"Um, okay," you nodded, sinking to the floor outside instead. Even if she didn't especially want you back in her life whatsoever, you figured she could have probably used someone to just listen. Sometimes that's what your mom wanted when she was upset and locked herself away. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Why?" She mumbled, her voice a bit muffled. You shrugged.

"I want to make sure you're okay."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and you could feel her thinking it over. "I was...disregarded."

You frowned. "Is this about your parents?" When she didn't reply you continued. "It's just, I know you have a rocky relationship with them, so..."

"It's not a rocky relationship," said Cairo. She seemed to have stiffened at the subject, and you figured you had gotten it in one. "Leave it alone." You winced again. A period of silence fell over you both, and your eyes went around the landing, looking at the stacks of books, debating something within yourself.

You remembered her crying that one night, and you remembered pushing her away, and you remembered how painful that had been and how hypocritical it was now that you were bugging her to share. So you swallowed hard and did something you had never done before.

"Cairo," you said softly. "My mom is bipolar."

"What?" She asked. It was clear she was on the other side of the door now, like you were, probably sitting on the ground. Maybe not having her in front of you made it easier to talk.

"Yeah. It's part of why we move around so much. It's just been me and her for the longest time. She doesn't like the medication and stuff...says it makes her fuzzy and my dad was an asshole about it and she thinks one day he's gonna steal me for himself, so we just kinda go from place to place when she feels like it."

"Oh," she said.

"Some days she's invincible and wild, like a hero or something. And then other days she doesn't move off the couch, and sometimes I have to leave food out for her to make sure she eats. I don't know if it's going to be an up or a down day." The confession sat in the air between you for a moment, just out in the open, and it felt like a weight had been lifted right off your chest. The information now lived and died with Cairo Sweet.

"I don't even know where my parents are," Cairo said after a minute. "Somewhere probably in Europe, getting drunk and living life. I can't be mad at them, I'm afraid. I can't call them shitty parents when they're not around to be shitty."

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter how crappy of a parent they are. It still fucks you up when they're not around."

"Maybe," Cairo said softly. "At least they're having fun." It sounded bittersweet, and you wanted to reach through the door to place an arm around her or to stroke her cheek.

"So why were you crying?" you asked.

You heard a thud against the wood, and she must have leaned her head back. "I got a message...they're staying in Europe for a couple months. So they won't be at graduation." It was a clever lie, one that saddened you and filled your heart wit pity.

"Oh," you hummed. Neither would your mom, anyhow. You had glazed over it too, but probably neither would you. You had no idea what you would say if your mom decided to pack you up and move you again before the end of the year. Maybe this time you'd cling and stay. "Cairo?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I accused you of that with Mr. Miller."

She went silent but finally said, "I still don't know how the hell it could've looked like we were kissing."

"Yeah, I don't know.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, (Y/n).”

"I believe you."

"I know."

You two just sat there for a moment, separated by the door but together.

"I'm scared by all this."

"I know," she said.

"You keep saying that."

"I know," Cairo laughed. "You can open the door now, you know."

"Can I?"

"Mhm."

You clambered to your feet, reaching out to the railing to steady yourself. You opened the door and there she was. Against your better judgement and by the sheer sparkle of her warm honey eyes, you forgot every little comment from Winnie or question that was suspiciously dismissed.

And for what it was worth, Cairo looked at you— really looked at you, for the first time since you had met, and decided maybe she liked clinging to your chest.

===+++===

before anyone feels the need to say this, it'll probably be continued in a super messy fourth part that i'm already starting to work on. it may take a while to come out though. anyways thank you all so much for 300 followers and over 2.5k likes on my work. it means so much.

[wesstars]

crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

masterlist

“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound.

“He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.” 

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus. 

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind. 

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened. 

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out. 

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of roll, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo. 

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch? 

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air. 

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry. 

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted. 

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back. 

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled. 

“Cairo, isn’t it?” 

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed. 

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

--

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[weirdobarbie]

JENNA ORTEGA as Cairo Sweet in MILLERS GIRL (2024)

[paxtito]

forbidden

pairings: cairo x fem!reader

word count: 2120

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, cunilingus, strap-on

summary: you've gotten yourself tangled in a love affair with your father's top student

a/n: this is a filler so don’t mind the length- also credits to whoever requested that one cairo bot!

MASTERLIST | BOT

The dorm room is quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the campus settling down for the night. You fumble with your keys, a quiet sigh escaping your lips as you push open the door. It’s been a long day—one full of stolen glances, hushed conversations, and the constant weight of secrecy pressing on your shoulders.

You flick on the light, and your heart skips a beat.

There she is.

Cairo Sweet, perched on the edge of your bed, her legs crossed casually, her hands resting on the quilt your mother sent last semester. She’s still in her uniform from earlier, though the loosened tie and unbuttoned top collar give her an air of reckless confidence. That signature cheeky grin of hers—equal parts playful and infuriating—greets you as if she has every right to be here.

“Miss me?” she teases, tilting her head just so, the dim light catching the mischief in her eyes.

You close the door behind you, leaning back against it for a moment. “Cairo,” you say, your voice a mix of surprise and exasperation. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugs, feigning innocence as she leans back on her hands, her posture lazy but intentional. “Thought I’d pay my favorite person a visit. Is that a crime?”

“It is when you sneak into my dorm,” you retort, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Cairo’s grin widens, and she pushes herself to her feet with a slow, deliberate grace. “Relax,” she murmurs, stepping closer. “No one saw me. Besides,” her voice drops slightly, low and teasing, “don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me.”

You bite your lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing the way your heart is racing. “Cairo, we’ve talked about this,” you begin, your voice quieter now.

“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes playfully. “We shouldn’t. It’s dangerous. Your dad’s my teacher. Believe me, I’ve got the speech memorized.”

“And yet, here you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

She steps closer still, and now you can smell the faint traces of her perfume, something warm and sweet that lingers in the air between you. “Here I am,” she agrees, her voice soft but still teasing. “Because I can’t stay away.”

Your resolve wavers under the weight of her gaze, and she knows it. Cairo always knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to get under your skin in ways no one else ever has.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whisper, though the words feel weak even as you say them.

Cairo's eyes sparkle with mischief as she takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "So what if we do?" she murmurs, her voice a low purr. "Live a little, Y/N. Life's too short to play by all the rules."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Cairo always has this effect on you—making you question everything you thought you knew, making you want things you know you shouldn't.

"I... I don't know," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that simple."

Cairo's hand comes up to cup your cheek, her touch gentle but electric. "It is that simple," she breathes, her face inches from yours. "It's just you and me, Y/N. The rest of the world can fall away."

You lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. God, it would be so easy to give in, to let her sweep you away on this tide of forbidden desire. But...

You lean into Cairo's touch, letting out a shaky breath.

 Fuck it. 

Your resolve crumbles under the intensity of her gaze.

"Cairo..." you murmur, your voice heavy with want.

A triumphant smirk curves her lips before she closes the remaining distance, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging lightly as she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing along your bottom lip.

You melt into her, your hands coming up to grip her waist, pulling her flush against you. The heat of her body seeps through the thin fabric of her uniform, igniting a fire deep in your core.

Cairo's hands roam over your body with a new urgency, her nails digging lightly into your skin through your shirt. She breaks the kiss, panting softly, her eyes dark with desire.

"Touch me," she breathes, her voice low and needy. "I want to feel your hands on me, Y/N."

You comply eagerly, your fingers slipping beneath her shirt to explore the smooth expanse of her back. Cairo arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Just like that," she pants, her hips grinding against yours. "Don't hold back, baby. I can take it."

You lose yourself in the sensation of her, in the taste of her, in the way she makes you feel alive in a way no one else ever has. Cairo is a force of nature, wild and unpredictable, and being with her feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, dizzying and exhilarating all at once.

As your hands roam lower, skimming over the curve of her ass, Cairo lets out a low groan. "Mmm, yes," she hisses, her hips bucking forward. "You know just how to touch me, don't you?"

The knowledge that you make her feel this good, that you can unhinge her so completely, sends a rush of power straight to your head. You nip at her bottom lip, relishing the way she whimpers in response.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cairo gasps, her fingers fisting in your hair. "I need you. Right now."

You don't hesitate, sweeping her up into your arms and carrying her the short distance to your bed. You lay her down gently, taking a moment to admire the sight of her spread out before you, her chest heaving, her skin flushed with desire.

Cairo watches you with hooded eyes as you slowly undress her, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Each piece of clothing you remove reveals more of her smooth, tanned skin, and you can't help but trail your fingers along her newly exposed flesh, mapping out every curve and dip.

"Y/N," she whispers, her voice thick with need. "Please, I want to feel you."

You obey, your hands and mouth worshipping every inch of her body as you work your way down. Cairo arches into your touch, her fingers tangled in your hair, urging you on.

By the time you reach her hips, she's practically shaking with anticipation. You hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties, drawing them down slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck, baby," Cairo groans, spreading her legs wider, inviting you in. "I need you so bad."

You don't make her wait any longer, diving in eagerly, your tongue hot and wet and perfect against her most sensitive parts. Cairo cries out, her back arching off the bed, her fingers tightening in your hair almost painfully.

"Yes, fuck yes," she pants, her hips bucking against your face. "Just like that, don't stop."

You double down your efforts, licking and sucking and teasing until Cairo is a writhing, incoherent mess beneath you, her thighs trembling and her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

"I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna come," she warns, her voice strangled. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You redouble your efforts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge until finally, with a scream of your name, she comes undone, her body shaking and convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her.

You work her through it, gentling your touch as the aftershocks fade, until finally, she collapses back onto the bed, spent and sated.

You crawl up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Was that good for you, baby?" you murmur, nipping at her bottom lip.

Cairo hums contentedly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your back. "Mmm, that was incredible," she purrs, her voice low and sultry. "But don't think we're done yet. I'm far from satisfied."

You reach for your nightstand with trembling hands, fumbling for your trusty strap-on. In your haste, you knock over a lamp, sending it clattering to the floor.

"Whoops!" you exclaim, stifling a laugh. "Graceful as always."

Cairo watches with hooded eyes as you fumble with the strap-on harness, your fingers clumsy in your haste. She bites her lip, trying to hold back a laugh at your determined expression.

"Eager, are we?" she teases, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Shut up," you mutter, finally getting the harness secured around your hips. You turn to face her, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I'm going to rock your world, Sweet."

Cairo rolls her eyes, even as a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Big words for someone who can't even put on a strap-on without help."

You narrow your eyes, stalking towards the bed. "Oh, I'll show you big, alright."

Cairo's laughter dissolves into a moan as you descend upon her, your hands and mouth mapping the contours of her body. You take your time, savoring every inch of her, until she's writhing beneath you, desperate for more.

"Please," she gasps, her hips lifting off the bed. "I need you inside me."

You smirk, reaching for the lube. "Patience, baby. Good things come to those who wait."

Cairo groans, burying her face in the pillow. "You're such a tease."

You just chuckle, coating the strap-on liberally. "And you love it."

Her only response is a muffled moan of agreement. You line yourself up, pushing forward slowly, sinking into her welcoming heat inch by delicious inch.

"Fuck," Cairo whimpers, her hands fisting in the sheets. "You feel so good."

You set a steady rhythm, losing yourself in the slide of your bodies, in the slick sounds of your lovemaking. Cairo meets you thrust for thrust, her nails raking down your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The strap-on rubs deliciously against your own sensitive parts with each deep thrust, the pressure building steadily. You grit your teeth, fighting the urge to let go, determined to make this last for Cairo.

"That's it, baby," you growl, angling your hips just so. "Take it all."

Cairo keens, her head thrashing on the pillow, her body trembling beneath you. "Harder," she demands, her voice ragged. "Fuck me harder, Y/N."

You oblige, snapping your hips forward, driving into her with renewed vigor. The bed creaks in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall, but you're too lost in the heat of the moment to care.

Cairo's moans grow louder, more desperate, her body clenching around the strap-on like a vice. "I'm close," she gasps, her eyes squeezing shut. "So fucking close."

You can feel your own orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. "Me too," you pant, your rhythm starting to falter. "Come with me, Cairo. Now."

With a final, powerful thrust, you bury yourself deep inside her, grinding against her sweet spot. Cairo screams, her body convulsing around you as she comes apart, milking the strap-on for all it's worth.

The sensation is too much, pushing you over the edge with her. You throw your head back, a guttural moan tearing from your throat as you find your own release, your hips jerking erratically.

For a long moment, you both remain locked in each other's embrace, panting harshly, your sweat-slicked bodies pressed together. Slowly, you come back to yourself, the post-orgasmic haze receding.

You pull out carefully, collapsing beside Cairo on the bed. She immediately curls into your side, her head resting on your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

"That was amazing," she murmurs, her voice soft and sated.

You reach down, fumbling with the straps of the harness with clumsy fingers. It takes a few tries, but finally, you manage to unbuckle the straps, the harness falling away from your hips.

Cairo lifts her head, watching you with a lazy smile. "Need some help there, sexy?" she teases, reaching out to trail a finger along your hip.

You shoot her a half-hearted glare, even as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. "I've got it," you mutter, tossing the harness aside carelessly.

Cairo just chuckles, settling back down on the pillows. "Alright, alright, I won't mock your struggle-bus hands."

You roll your eyes, flopping down beside her with a huff. "You're a brat."

"And you love it," she retorts, nuzzling into your neck.

You can't argue with that, your arms coming up to wrap around her waist, holding her close. For a moment, you just bask in the afterglow, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the soft whisper of her breath against your skin.

[apara-dise-penguin]

[yamysunmoon]

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

(I always request masc!reader, hope that's okay!)

Cairo has a habit of sitting on R’s lap when she’s working or distracted, running her fingers through R's hair and teasingly murmuring, “You’re mine, you know.” R just leans back and smiles, letting Cairo take control of the moment.

I know these are really short prompts (?), ideas, but I hope you can add something more into them, to make a complete story! Love your writing!!

-🥧

MINE

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x fem!reader

Summary: basically what anon said + reader and Cairo are in a committed relationship, reader is 1-2 years older than Cairo (she's about 22 by now), they're spending the spring break together in Cairo's mansion (they basically live together). Reader has an online meeting and Cairo is not willing to be unattended.

Words count: 3476

Warnings: smut +18, dry humping, teasing, possessive Cairo, reader calling Cairo "little ghost"

a/n: about the "i always ask for masc!reader" note, this lovely person sent the request before I posted my rules. Now yall know :)

Also first anon nickname! :) tysm for the request and your kind comment, 🥧 ig "punchline" was also requested by you so truly thanks for your incredible ideas. Hope this one reaches u

MASTERLIST

Cairo has a way to get into you. Since you first met, she's always known how to see through you, how to make you feel loved and seen.

She's very watchful; not a single detail about you has ever slipped away. That's something that made you fall instantly for her.

She always knows what you need, even before you do.

Lazy Saturdays like this one were all you needed to recharge for the next week. Just casually having lunch with Cairo in her huge, not anymore lonely mansion that she had inherited after her parents left the town for good.

After months deliberating, you had accepted her proposal of living together, following two years of relationship.

"Have a little more" she presses, her usual confident demeanor about what you need fills her tone as she serves you more food.

She isn't that good at the kitchen, but your favourite dish has become one of her main in her already concise repertoire.

"Wow, not that much. I have a meeting in two hours, I don't wanna be overcame by drowsiness afterwards."

Your lips curl up sideways as you watch her serve you carefully, listening to your request.

She glances at you narrowing her eyes, a soft pout on her lips.

"Ugh, I had forgotten your damned online meeting..."

While Cairo is enjoying her spring break, resting from college, you're a bit older than her and have already finished your studies.

That's why you have the luck to count on an stable job that allows you to work from home. Although this aspect of your job lets you spend more time with Cairo during her break, she doesn't seem to be content.

"Why do they need a meeting so badly on a Saturday?" she huffs dramatically, "The insatiable jaws of capitalism got you trapped again."

She leans back against her chair and crosses her legs, staring at you with a glint of playful haughtiness in her eye.

There's a slowness in her every move, a strategic seduction in her deliberated gestures.

She's wearing a creamy sweater combined with a denim jacket and a skirt with vertical stripes. Her legs are divine, covered by black stockings up to her upper thighs.

You shrug, mirroring her placid posture, but without crossing your legs. Instead, you spread them ever so slightly, your hands placed on your thighs.

"I just follow orders, ma'am" you shoot back, smirking.

Her gaze drifts briefly to your inviting legs and big hands before snapping up back at your eyes. One corner of her lips curls up a little, reveiling a hidden sly smile.

She exhales through her nostrils in a mocking huff, clearly enjoying the banter.

"Oh, I figured." She quips. "You've always been quite a... Docile girl, aren't you?"

She gives you a smug smile, wiggling her eyebrows. You grin, eyelids suddenly feeling heavy as your gaze drops to her body offered to you.

You wonder if your boss really needs you to attend to that meeting, because you could use yourtime for some much more appealing activities.

She can barely contain her relish at your obvious mesmerized state. She uncrosses her legs, your eyes dragging along her slender thighs, following her every move.

Her skirt is ragged up slightly, she doesn't do anything to prevent it. Instead, she scoots her hips back, sitting straight on the chair. The fabric slides up further, revealing more delicious inches of her creamy skin.

Her calves are crammed into fitted black stockings, but you can still appreciate the details of her legs- slender and delicate, you can almost feel the smooth texture brushing against your finger pads from the thousand million times you've had her all to yourself.

She leands forward, resting her forearms on her upper thighs.

"Are you seriously relinquishing to the suffocating cuffs a job that deprives you of spending your afternoon with me?"

Her voice is soft and feminine, glinting with seducement. Her eyes sparkle with naughtiness and something deeper, more subtle, something you can't quite decipher just yet.

You interwine your fingers on your lap, your body language telling her she's not going to convince you. "You're a quite dramatic, my little ghost. It's an hour-long meeting. I'm sure you'll survive."

She narrows her eyes, maintaining your sardonic eye contact as she fully smirks, not hiding anymore how much this banter is entertaining her.

She finally shrugs, "I had to try" she murmurs, finally breaking eye contact as she stands up to clean the table.

You help her and the kitchen delves into a comfortable silence. You share faint feather-light grazes, your hands gently holding her by her waist as she scrubs a plate, then letting go of her just when she was laying back against you.

She looks at you over her shoulder, eyes narrowing again, her nose scrunching, she shakes her head a little in pretended annoyance.

You squint at her, a tiny smile on your lips as you put away a dish after drying it. Her gaze remains on you, and so you finally turn around a little and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm not trying to tease you, sorry baby" you mutter, meek.

The playful glint in her eyes endures, eyelids fluttering briefly at your sweet gesture.

She would never admit it, but you always manage to melt her seemingly unfathomable cold heart.

"Oh, sure... I'm convinced you're not trying to play with me, sweetheart" she coos, suspicious.

You shake your head and roll your eyes slightly, smirking.

You truly weren't planning on tantalizing her, but her ethereal way of carrying herself always attracts you, like a helpless insect falling for the seducing flame.

You spend the next hours on the couch, she drapes her legs over your lap, keeping you warm and cozy as you massage her thighs mindlessly, both of you silent while listening to the news.

You've always enjoyed the quietness of her mansion. The distorted sound of her vintage TV, the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air, the high walls and worn-emerald paper walls covering them.

Cairo is reading a book, per usual, sprawled, and her feet fidget on your lap, rubbing subtly against your pants.

Your attention drifts between the TV and her endearing behavior. You feel like a prey being seduced by a good-looking predator, who pretends being oblivious to her own alluring game.

Her toes graze your groin, the suggestive fabric of her stockings sending a pleasant shiver through your spine.

You turn your head, finding her sweet stare peeking above the spine of her book. She wiggles her eyebrows twice, and you both giggle quietly.

Your giggle turns into a soft hiss when her touch turns a little more present, her foot sliding between your thighs. You look down.

She moves her ankle in slow circles, the sole of her foot pressing against your inner thigh as her heel grinds dangerously close to your clothed center.

You squirm, scooting back. "Cairo..." you murmur in a husky warning, glancing at her.

You find her playful stare on you, head tilted calmly, book carelessly dropped on her chest.

You gazes lock, and for a significant second you seriously consider to miss that damn call.

She notices your hesitation, her breath hitches in her throat, plump parted lips showing you her perfect teeth as she pants quietly, releasing air she didn't know she was holding.

Your fingers clutch her legs, her foot still perilously close to your crotch. You inhale deeply, gathering the courage to reject her ignoring your deepest desires, when your phone makes a notification sound.

You finally break eye contact, her gaze flying to the table where your phone is buzzling.

You glance at it, it's a Google Calendar notification. The meeting is about to start.

"I gotta go, baby" you say softly as you gently push her legs away. "I'll be in the studio."

You stand up, stretching your arms and torso. She sits up and glances at your phone, its screen is still lit up.

"Oh" her eyebrows raise, "she's gonna be there."

Her tone has a hint of annoyance and something underneath, something that's poking.

"Who?" You look down. "Oh, Lizzie. Yeah, the whole team is there."

"You call her Lizzie now?"

She looks up at you, her gaze glistening with her usual mysterious aura.

You can't quite understand the meaning behind her tone; you've never conceived Cairo as a possessive partner.

"Uhm... Yeah? She's just an acquaintance from the office."

Cairo's stare remains on you, calculated. She's scans your expression, her eyebrow arching at your specific choice of words.

She gets what you mean; Elizabeth is just a colleague from work, someone meaningless in your life. Her face lets you know she trusts you.

She just happen to despise her, and is not willing to hide it.

"Hmm... Does Elizabeth know she's just an acquintance from the office?" She purrs mockingly.

You reach down patting the top of her head in a mix of playfullness and true tenderness.

"Well, I talk about you non stop, so she should know."

She pauses, sighing in contentment at your touch and reassurance.

"Then she should stop reminding you about the meeting as an excuse to text you" she retorts.

Is in that moment when you grab the phone and see Elizabeth's message.

She has left you a rather sweet message with a couple of cute emojis, reminding you of the incoming reunion.

You glance at Cairo, your gaze earnest yet soft, in firm reassurance.

"I'll be clear with her, little ghost." You promise, then leave a kiss on her forehead and leave the living room.

"No if I let her know first, love" she mutters once you're gone.

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

You're in the studio already, your boss talking as the rest of the team has the camera on and microphones muted.

You're noting down very important point she makes; pencil sliding gracefully as your messy handwriting fills the page.

The warm lighting of the spring day bathes the spacious room, and you get distracted from time to time by staring at the beautiful lighting it provides you with.

Half in the meeting, Cairo steps in the office.

"Sorry, left my cigarettes here" she whispers as she approaches. The box of cigarettes is on the table beside your laptop.

You glance at her, "It's okay, I'm muted" you whisper playfully. Your boss is still talking but now you're distracted, obviously.

She smirks and her body gets in frame as she reaches for the box. You turn off your camera.

"Babe! I could've given it to you" you scold weakly, secretly enjoying the faint pressure of her thighs against your leg and her arm brushing your face.

She glances at the screen. "They are all really here, huh? Truly perplexing" she comments, casually sitting on your lap.

You lean back, holding your hands up in mock surrender. She has this habit of sitting on your lap whenever you're busy working on your computer, but she has never done it during a meeting of this sort. "What do you think you're doing?"

She shrugs indifferently. "Getting comfortable" she claims, her voice muffled as she holds a ciggarette between her lips, "now that you've turned off the camera."

You look back at the screen, your boss has stopped talking and now your co-workers are sharing their concerns, doubts and points of view.

Before you can retort, your boss adresses you. She calls you by your surname, then asks "why have you turned off your camera? Is everything okay? I was hoping on having your input as well."

Your eyes widen and you blush slightly, Cairo is admiring your flushing state with a thin smirk, lips stretched keeping the cigarette between her lips.

You turn on the mic. "Yeah, everthing's fine... It just turned off randomly. I can't turn it on, something's off"

You blush further and shake your head slightly, uncomfortable because of telling a lie and because of using your words so poorly in front of your boss.

You can see her frown in confusion and suspicion through the screen, she seems to hesitate; everyone saw that mysterious figure before your camera went off, and many in your office know about Cairo.

However, she blinks and shakes her head slightly, becoming desinterested.

"Okay, whatever... Any suggestions on your behalf?"

You gulp, and Cairo shifts, shamelessly straddling your thigh. Her thighs press deliciously against the sides of your leg, holding you in a warm grip.

You look at her, alarmed. She just shrugs and reaches for a match.

"Yeah, actually, I have a couple of notes..." you mumble, but your eyes are on her.

Your gaze follows her every move, the crispy sound of the match lighting and the warm light of the fire lighting up her features take your breath away.

"Well?"

The hint of impatience in your boss's voice brings you back to reality. You blink and turn your head abruptly, causing Cairo's smirk to grow wider.

"Yes, sorry, I was looking for them precisely" you excuse yourself miserably, the blush in your cheeks burning your skin.

For a excruciating minute, you try to explain your thoughts on your boss's proposition as Cairo smokes quietly next to your face, ocassionally shifting her hips back and forth ever so slightly.

You can feel her warmth against your leg under that tiny skirt that's travelling higher with every swift move of hers.

You have to catch your breath several times, and eventhough your colleagues can't see you, you can defenitely witness their confused expressions as they hear your obviously awkward tone.

Nevertheless. your words are eloquent, even if rashly, and Cairo listens to you with a mix of pride and amusement in her expression.

She has always had a thing for gorgeous girls who speak their minds. It's even more impressive given the situation.

When your done, your boss nods and thanks you for your 'interesting approach, which will be most definitely taken into account', as she says.

You let out a deep sigh of relief the moment you turn off your mic and your boss's attention and everyone else's drifts to another co-worker.

"Cairo, that was unnecess-" you can't even finish your sentence before a sharp hiss interrupts your train of thoughts, her core firmly pressing against your thigh.

"Oh, you're so effortlessly teased, my love" she purrs, nuzzling her noise into your neck.

The faint smell of smoke and the heat of her breath fans your neck. Yyour eyelids flutter in bliss, much to your dismay.

You inhale profoundly, your chest rising and falling as you try to keep some composure. The voices of your colleagues are far forgotten by now.

"You're such a tease, little ghost" you groan, your hands enveloping her waist, encouraging her to keep going.

She grins, one hand holding her cigar while the other wraps around your neck. "Am I? I swear, I just saw you here, so lonely, and I was like... Yeah, that's my seat..."

You chuckle dumbly, slightly gay panicking as you stare at her mesmerized in pure veneration.

"Oh yeah? It's that so? Your seat?"

She trails off to give you a smug smile and nods slowly.

Cairo hums seductively in affirmation, "hmm-hmm, definitely." She leans in and kisses your jawline, tracing it with her soft lips.

"You're all mine."

Her voice is laced with a beguiling certainty, she sounds husky and sure of what she's saying, knowing damn well you won't disagree with her.

Cairo looks sideways at the screen, spoting Elizabeth as you squirm miserably beneath her. She darts out her tongue and drags it along your jaw, her eyes fixed on that woman before they slowly turn to you.

"See that bitch? She wished she had you, but you're mine. All mine."

You stifle a quiet whimper. The way she rocks against your thigh makes your body bounce, following her rhythm. You look briefly at your co-worker before looking away, at her, your cheeks painted with a pale pink, embarrassment remaining.

"Don't worry about her, she's—"

"Who do you belong to?

She interrupts you in that quiet dominant harsh voice of hers, the one she grants you with when she's convinced about what she's saying. Her hand around your neck slides up to grab your hair, making you lift your chin.

Her elbow is resting on her right thigh, her hand holding the cigarette. It's burning, the white smoke surrounds her face giving her some sort of fascinating aura.

She is staring at you intently, clearly expecting an answer.

You babble, your hands fidgeting restless on her sides. She smiles mischievously, and resumes with her grinding.

"Uh...You..." you mutter sheepishly.

The corners of her lips curl up slightly, pleased but still not satisfied.

"What did you say, again? I can't hear you when you speak so faintly, sweetheart" she purrs mockingly.

You whimper, a silent complain dying in your throat. The muffled voices of your teammates saying their goodbyes are a distant echo that makes the scene even more enclosed.

She glances, expectant. A layer of burnt out cigarette falls down to your pants, she wipes it away but still leaves a mark. You look down, silently hoping it'll stay.

You peek up at her, the subtly motion of your head emphasizing her grip in your hair.

"Yours. I'm yours"

You voice is breathy, but this time is firm. You hold her gaze, defiant.

Cairo tilts her head slowly, looking at you with curiosity gleaming in her eyes. She batts her eyelashes feidging innocence, and her hips roll deliciously against your thigh.

She brings the cigar to her mouth and inhales deeply, then deliberately exhales on your face, making you flinch and blink.

She chuckles darkly, "Hmm, damn right" she finally adresses your words in a pleased tone. "That's my girl."

She leaves the spent cigarette somewhere safe and turns back to you, her hand sliding to a side of your neck.

"You are in deed my beautiful girl, aren't you?" She coos, rocking her hips steadily as she nestles in your neck, inhaling deeply, then dragging her canines along your skin.

"See how well you talked, how eloquently, as I was rubbing my cunt against you? See how perfect you are, keeping your shit together when in reality all you long is to fuck me here, on this very chair?"

Her voice is like a sexy spell getting whispered in your ear, her teeth sinking into your flesh only provoke you further; your whimpers turning into whines as your hands grip her sides.

Cairo smiles against your skin, she nuzzles your jawline, you can feel her delicate nose tracing your features.

You throw your head back slightly, your fingertips curl around her curves whilst you feel her motion, you feel her warmth against your thigh through your pants.

Cairo tilts her head up slowly, she mapes your right cheekbone with her dangerous mouth.

"You're right, sweetheart. You are mine" she repeats again, an erotic mantra slipping out of her lips.

Her hand holding the side of your neck snakes up and her fingers slide into your hair, playing with it as her other hand keeps a firm grip above your nape.

Your lips are parted letting go soft pants, and she goes on whispering sweet nothings, reminding you who you belong to, who owns you; while her skillful hands handle you so tenderly and her eager hips swing, as she uses you for her pleasure.

Your hands drift to the small of her back, pulling her down harder, and she stifles a little moan when she presses herself more purposefully against you.

Her hips are bucking and her breath is ragged, hot breaths fanning your ear as she whispers,

"Neither Elizabeth nor anyone else— are going to have you. Ah— you're mine, pretty girl."

Her possessive speech is interrupted by her own stifled moans and quiet whines, and she dry humps you so firmly it makes you grab her in a way to anchor yourself.

You look over her shoulder, the screen of your laptop black, showing how you're the only one left in the online room.

The darkness allows you to admire her reflection, the way her body is moving, riding your leg.

You throw your head forward, resting your forehead on her shoulder as she keeps rubbing against you, relentless, insatisble, demanding.

"You're mine... Mine... Mine..."

The way she's cradling your hair is softer now, but her hips are jerking insistently, a sharp contrast to her also smoother voice, laced with affection and deep desire.

You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her closer, pulling her down too.

She grinds fiercely, panting heavily in your ear, messy kisses all over your neck.

And a lucid thought comes across your foggy mind, an epiphany keeping you grounded to this moment.

You're hers.

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