#and like you even see it happen before the twist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nosyp · 3 days ago

Text

Twisted Desires

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N = Contains spoilers, read at your own discretion. Don't blame me if you learn smt before watching season 2 <3 (also yes im reusing pics)

Warning = Smut🔞, Murder, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Captivity, Isolation

Pairing = Front man (Hwang In-ho/Player 001) x reader

Summary = You found out your boyfriend, In-ho, joined the squid game. As you watched the game unfold, you can’t help but feel the growing tension between you two, especially as the stakes get higher and your bond grows darker.

Word count = 2.1k words

There was no. fucking. way.

Your boyfriend, Hwang In-ho and frontman, actually joined the game. You watched intently as he walked through the gap between the two groups of people. One was on the ‘O’ side and the other on the ‘X’ side. He was the last to vote since he was player 001. The voting went from the last player to the first.

He paused at the table, eyes moving back and forth from the two buttons in front of him. The silence was intense, heavy. Then, his hand moves to the red button… what the fuck? No, actually… he didn’t press it yet. He halts, his hand still in the air. You can see his head turning to the blue button… and he presses it, making the count bump up an extra one. Of course he did.

At the end of the vote, the ‘O’ side won, which means that the game will continue. The opposing side looked clearly frustrated. I mean, you couldn’t blame them. This game costs their lives if anything.

Soon, the speaker announces: “The lights will go out in… 3… 2… 1”

Then, the lights shut down, darkness consuming the room. The screen showed the room with heat detection, you could now only see red silhouettes of the figures. Carefully, you inspected the figures and spotted a familiar one moving. The door to the room suddenly opened and the figure passed through the threshold.

Not long after, you suddenly got a call on the corded phone. The ringing of the phone echoed through the room. You hesitated to pick it up, carefully locking eyes onto the device. Your hand grazed the keypad of the phone, and you picked it up.

“Hello?” you ask the other voice.

“[Name],” his voice crackles through the phone, low and cold. “Are you watching?”

You can hear the slight rustling on the other end, but it’s not enough to make sense of what’s happening. The silence starts again before he continues, “I need you to stay quiet. Don’t try anything funny.”

You can feel your heartbeat picking up pace as you strain to hear any background noise. The weight of his words presses on you. “I’ll be with you again. Soon.”

You knew the man was crazy, but you hadn’t expected something like this… or maybe you did. He often spoke about ‘joining for fun’. There was nothing fun about the whole thing though.

“I don’t think I can really go anywhere,” you respond, still able to hear the rustling in the background.

“Good.” he says before hanging up. The phone call closed with a long beep.

This bitch somehow managed to find a way to dictate your life, despite being trapped in a game surrounded with many other people. Honestly, he’d probably find some other way if he couldn’t call you.

The next few days, you watched as he blended into the crowd of players and played his own game. Surprisingly, but also unsurprisingly, he managed to survive game after game. Though, he probably wouldn’t have died even if he lost. The fear of the other players, the chaos, the high stakes, it unnerved you.

The worst part about it was his calm, cold demeanor only grew more unsettling as he navigated the games with ease. There was no doubt in your mind that he was doing this for his own amusement, but you couldn’t tell what his goal was. Was he playing to win, or was he just having fun with the entire ordeal? Either way, it made you sick.

Every day, you were forced to watch from the sidelines, your mind consumed with thoughts of what might happen to him… or to you. You still hadn’t heard from him since that last phone call, but you could feel his presence in every corner of this twisted game. His control over you, over everything, was absolute. The way he operated, making sure his every move was calculated, was nothing short of terrifying. He was always somehow one step ahead, he could always predict future movements with precise accuracy.

He hadn’t just entered the game to survive, you swore he had entered it to manipulate it. You could only wonder what his true intentions were as you waited, trapped in this nightmare. Every moment you spent here, unable to escape, only added to the sickening realization that no matter what happened, you were always going to be his pawn. A toy in his little game.

The door suddenly clicked open, and in came two of the triangle-masked men. They hadn’t said anything and just stood near the door.

“What do you want?” you ask, shattering the silence of the room.

“Boss asked us to ensure your safety ma’am,” one of the men replied.

“I don’t need your fucking protection. How many times do I have to say that?” you spat fiercely. You didn’t even know if they were enjoying the torment with the boss or just doing their job. You’d probably guess the latter but the choice of workers this year was… very peculiar. Most of the people were nut-jobs, taking up weird & dangerous jobs prior to joining the ‘squid game’.

“Boss insists,” the other states, like you didn’t know.

You roll your eyes at the response and just sent them a deathly glare. “I honestly never wanted this… and I highly doubt you wanted it either,”

Silence followed, none of them responded.

—

It was supposedly nearing the end of the whole operation and it started to get interesting. Seong Gi-Hun, or player 456, had hatched a plan to attract the guards and when they got close enough, he would attack. The others, including your boyfriend, joined the plan.

The fight was already brutal. A purple-haired guy was already brutally stabbed to death by a fork and so many of the other players met the same fate as well. Blood was splattered all over the walls and floors, you couldn’t even imagine how long the cleaning’ll take.

The situation started to escalate as it turned into a gun-war. The masked group was obviously having the upper hand, they had more manpower and resources. Honestly, you admired Gi-hun’s bravery. He probably knew this was a high risk mission, the whole thing would have some amount of sacrifices.

One-by-one, they took down the masked men and it seemed like they actually had a chance. But you knew In-ho probably wouldn’t let that happen. And as you expected, he took down the two men with him. It didn’t take him long to flee the scene and go back to hiding behind the scene.

The door opened, and in came the infamous leader.

“So… you’ve had your fun… what now?” you speak up, interrogating him.

He pauses, stops in his place, you can see it from the reflection on the screen. His gaze flickers to you, he was still in his green outfit with blood all over him. “Hmmm… I need to go back to being the front man,”

You turn your head towards him, giving him a small smile, not of gratitude or anything though. “You put up quite the show… who knew you could do all that?” you say teasingly.

“You really don’t know me at all, do you honey?” he responds, with just as much tease in his tone as you.

Hearing his tone, you got up from the sofa and grabbed a napkin from the table. One step after the other, you slowly got closer to him and wiped the blood off of him.

“How sweet of you,” he says. “What changed?”

You stop after hearing the question. It was true, just a second ago you were angry at him. And it all just dissipated in thin air, what is happening to you?

“Nothing, just missed my boyfriend,” you giggle. “You should go change now.”

“I think we have time…” he says, his hand grabbing a hold under your thigh. He lifts it up and wraps his other one around your waist.

“W-what…? For what?” you ask curiously.

“You’ll see,” he says, his lips brushing over yours.

Before you could even process what was happening, In-ho’s grip on you tightened. His hands were firm on your body, pulling you flush against him with a strength that left you breathless. Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips onto yours, silencing any protests you might’ve had. The kiss was wild, needy, like he couldn’t get enough of you. And before you even realized it, your legs were wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as though you needed his support.

You felt the weight of his arms around you, supporting you, guiding you, and suddenly, it was all too much. His breath was ragged against your lips as he tugged you closer, the heat of his body mixing with yours.

His touch was possessive, but so tender in the way he gripped your skin. Every second, every movement, was loaded with unspoken words… his desire, his lust, his need for you, but also something darker, a reminder of who he was in this twisted game. Yet, all you could think about in that moment was the pull between you, how his presence seemed to drown out everything else.

You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest, syncing with your own, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no game, no chaos, no twisted rules. This time… it was just him and you.

It was almost dizzying. The way his lips moved with an intensity that left you breathless. You melted into him, giving in to the urgency of the moment, your hands threading into his bloodstained shirt as you pulled him even closer. And just as quickly, he deepened the kiss, a growl vibrating in his chest, pulling a desperate moan from you.

It was messy. It was raw. It was everything that you shouldn’t want, but couldn’t stop yourself from craving more of him.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough, just how you like it. “Just feel. Feel me.”

His words fell onto deaf ears as you numbed against his touch, His lips trailed down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, making your breath hitch in your throat. You clung to him, desperate for more, for any scrap of his attention, but your head was spinning.

“In-ho…” you managed to breathe, barely able to form words, your chest heaving as he kissed his way back up to your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin in that familiar, possessive way.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained desire, it was something more than that. He was desperate for you now. His hands roamed every inch of your body, tracing the lines, memorizing every curve as if he needed to own every part of you. “You don’t need to say anything. I know what you want.”

He spoke like he had all the answers, and in that moment, he probably did. The way he held you, the way he moved with such authority, made it impossible to do anything but give in to him. To him and this chaotic, twisted connection you shared. Maybe you weren’t any better than him.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him back to you as your lips crashed together again. It wasn’t gentle this time. The kiss was rough, hungry, full of tension and need. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you in a rhythm that only seemed to escalate the fire burning between you. His breath, hot against your mouth, sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his lips.

You felt his smirk before you heard it. “You’re mine, [Name],” he muttered against your lips. His words were a command, a promise, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the sound.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. “You want me, don’t you? Want me more than anything else right now. Tell me you want me,”

His hands were on you again, pressing you deeper into him, and in that moment, there was no escaping him. No escaping the pull of his dark, twisted affection.

You didn’t answer, not with words, but your body told him everything he needed to know. He hummed in satisfaction and you let him explore you even deeper.

#front man x reader #hwang inho x reader #hwang in-ho x reader #front man #squid game fanfic #squid game

403 notes · View notes

lizziesangel · 3 days ago

Text

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ i’m sorry

x KOOK!FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request - you and rafe end in bad terms, he just wants to talk to you, but when he tries to, the people who he owes money to decide to pass by.

WORD COUNT: +2.6k

GENRE: angsty

CONTENT WARNING: rafe is a MESS, mentions of blood, gunshot and hospital!

rafe was a storm brewing beneath clear skies. to anyone else, he looked like just another spoiled son of the outer banks elite, pulling into the country club in his sleek black suv. but behind the wheel, his knuckles were white against the leather, his jaw set like stone. he hadn’t slept—not really. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way your expression had crumpled when he’d told you it was over.

and oh, the memory gutted him.

he killed the engine, sitting in the stillness of the parking lot, but his mind was anything but calm. he could still hear the way his own voice had cracked, the way he’d nearly broken right there in front of you. “this isn’t working anymore,” he’d said, the words like acid on his tongue. “you deserve better, okay? someone who’s… good. and that’s not me.”

you had begged him to explain, your voice trembling, tears welling in your eyes. but he couldn’t. he didn’t think he deserved you, not your kindness, not your laughter, not the way you looked at him like he was worth something.

how could someone like you—sweet, soft, angelic—love someone like him? a man who couldn’t even love himself?

the thought made his stomach twist.

rafe had spent his entire life learning how to put up walls, to shove people away before they could see what was really underneath. and for a while, he’d let himself believe that maybe you were different. maybe you could love him despite his sharp edges. but the closer you got, the more he panicked.

so, he’d done what he always did: ruined it before you could.

and now, here he was, sitting in the parking lot of the country club, knowing full well you’d be inside with your friends, laughing over mimosas like nothing had happened. he hated himself for wanting to see you, for wanting to make sure you were okay.

he shoved the door open and stepped into the sunlight, running a hand through his hair. the familiar hum of the club surrounded him: tennis balls thwacking against rackets, the chatter of the wealthy, the clink of glasses on trays. it was all so routine, so normal, and yet he felt like he was walking into a minefield.

he found you immediately.

you were seated at a table by the terrace, a vision of effortless beauty in a sundress, your smile lighting up the space around you. it was like nothing had changed, like you hadn’t spent the last week crying over the mess he’d made of you both.

but rafe saw it. the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you seemed distracted even as your friends talked around you.

he swallowed hard, his chest tightening. what the hell was he doing here?

he should leave. turn around, get back in his car, and drive until the ache in his chest was nothing more than a distant memory. but his feet wouldn’t move.

because as much as he wanted to pretend he’d let you go for your sake, the truth was he’d been lying to himself.

he’d pushed you away because he was scared. because he couldn’t handle the thought of you realizing what a mess he was and leaving him first.

and now, seeing you here, pretending you were okay, rafe realized he might’ve made the biggest mistake of his life.

but what could he do about it now?

the laughter at the table dulled in your ears. you weren’t really paying attention to your friends’ conversation—hadn’t been for weeks, if you were honest. a distraction here, a small joke there, but it all felt like going through the motions. the ache in your chest hadn’t faded since rafe had broken things off, no matter how much you told yourself you’d get over it.

you pushed your chair back, standing up abruptly. “be right back,” you said, offering a small, tight smile. “left something in my car.”

no one questioned you as you walked away from the terrace, your sandals clicking softly against the stone path. the parking lot wasn’t far, just a short walk past the manicured hedges that shielded the club’s members from the sight of asphalt and parked vehicles.

the air was warm, the sun glaring brightly overhead as you unlocked your car and leaned in to retrieve your bag. as you straightened, dusting off your dress, you heard your name, loud and insistent.

“hey! wait! y/n!”

you turned, blinking in surprise. rafe was there, striding toward you like a man on a mission. his usual swagger was gone, replaced with something frantic, almost desperate.

“rafe?” you said, your brows furrowing. “what are you—”

“i need to—just, listen to me,” he interrupted, his voice hurried, his hands lifting as if he could reach out and stop you from walking away. “i know i screwed up. okay? i know i hurt you, but, i’m sor—”

the roar of a motorcycle cut him off, the sound ripping through the air like a warning.

you turned just in time to see it—a sleek black bike weaving recklessly through the parked cars, the rider’s face obscured by a helmet. but it wasn’t the bike that made your blood run cold; it was the glint of metal in the rider’s hand.

a gun.

“rafe!” the man shouted—barry, his voice rough and full of venom. “i want my money, country club!”

and then the shots came.

the first shattered the quiet serenity of the lot, followed by screams from the terrace as people dove for cover. rafe’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed your arm, pulling you toward him as he ducked behind a nearby car.

“stay down!” he yelled, his body shielding yours.

but he wasn’t fast enough.

a sharp, burning pain tore through your side, and you gasped, stumbling backward. your knees buckled, and you hit the ground hard, the asphalt scraping against your palms.

“y/n!” Rafe’s voice was panicked, raw, as he dropped to his knees beside you. his hands were on you instantly, trying to find the source of the blood. “no, no, n—stay with me. you’re okay, baby. you’re okay!”

you tried to speak, tried to say his name, but the words wouldn’t come. all you could do was look up at him, your hands trembling as you held them out, crimson staining your skin.

rafe’s face twisted in anguish, his eyes wet with unshed tears as he pressed his hands over the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. “no, no, no! don’t do this! don’t you dare do this to me!”

you managed a weak smile, your lips forming his name even as your vision blurred.

“stay with me,” rafe begged, his voice cracking, his hands trembling. “please, angel. i can’t—i can’t lose you.”

the world around you began to fade, the edges growing dim and quiet, but the last thing you saw was rafe’s face, etched with raw fear and heartbreak.

the wail of sirens pierced the air, growing louder with each passing second, but to rafe, it was nothing more than background noise. his whole world had narrowed to the sight of you lying in front of him, your blood seeping into the cracks of the asphalt.

he was crouched over you, his hands trembling as he pressed them to your wound. tears streamed down his face, his chest heaving with gasping, hiccupping sobs. he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. the only thing grounding him was the faint rise and fall of your chest. you were still alive—but barely.

“stay with me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “don’t—don’t leave me, angel. please.”

“i’m so sorry.”

the paramedics arrived in a rush, their voices calm but firm as they moved him aside. rafe resisted, his hands refusing to let go of you even as they gently pushed him back.

“no, i—i can’t—” he stammered, his voice cracking. “she needs—she—”

“let them do their job, rafe!” a familiar voice barked.

rafe turned, his tear-streaked face meeting sherrif shoupe’s sharp gaze. the man was striding toward him, his face a mask of fury and concern. “what the hell happened here, rafe?!”

rafe couldn’t answer. he shook his head, his throat tightening as more sobs wracked his body. “it’s—she’s hurt. i—God, i couldn’t—”

shoupe’s eyes narrowed, and he crouched down beside you as the paramedics worked, his tone softening as he muttered, “jesus christ.” He stood and turned to the medics. “get her stabilized. i want updates the second you’ve got her in the rig.”

the paramedics nodded, moving quickly but carefully. they placed an oxygen mask over your face and secured you to the stretcher, your head lolling to the side. rafe surged forward, his hands reaching for you.

“i’m going with her!” he cried, his voice desperate.

“no, you’re not,” shoupe said firmly, stepping in his path. “son, listen to me. you need to calm the hell down and tell me what’s going on here.”

rafe shook his head violently, his tears falling faster. “i can’t leave her! i can’t—not again.”

shoupe’s hands landed on his shoulders, steady but firm. “they’re taking her to the hospital, and you can follow. but you need to get it together, son. right now.”

rafe’s breath hitched, and he nodded shakily, his entire body trembling. as the ambulance doors slammed shut and sped away, his knees almost buckled, but shoupe helped him keeping him upright.

“what about—what about everyone else?” rafe choked out, his voice barely audible. “did anyone else get hurt?”

shoupe’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “nobody else was touched. this ain’t random, rafe. it was aimed for you.”

rafe’s heart dropped into his stomach, his mind spinning. “what?”

shoupe’s eyes were hard as he stared him down. “now, how ’bout you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, huh? who the hell are you running from?”

rafe swallowed hard, his pulse roaring in his ears. the weight of the sheriff’s words sank in, his guilt and fear coiling tightly in his chest. he couldn’t lose you—not now. but he couldn’t run from this any longer either.

rafe paced the hospital waiting room like a caged animal, his fingers tangling in his hair every few steps. the fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, the sterile air thick with the smell of antiseptic. every tick of the clock on the wall felt like an eternity, each second driving another nail into his chest.

he couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head—the sound of the gunshots, the way your body had crumpled, the blood on his hands. his throat tightened, and he had to swallow back the urge to scream.

“c’mon,” he muttered under his breath, his voice raw. “c’mon, tell me something.”

the double doors to the ER swung open, and he whipped around, hope flaring briefly. but it wasn’t a doctor—it was sarah. and john b was right behind her.

her face was pale, her eyes wide with panic, but the moment she saw him, her expression twisted into something between fury and anguish.

“you let her get shot?!” she yelled, storming toward him.

rafe barely had time to open his mouth before her palm cracked against his cheek in a sharp slap. the sting burned, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move. he just stood there, his head bowed, accepting it.

“you were supposed to protect her!” sarah’s voice broke, tears welling up in her eyes. before rafe could even process it, she was pulling him into a fierce hug.

the force of it nearly knocked him back, and for a moment, he just stood there, frozen. then, slowly, his arms came up, wrapping around her tightly.

“i’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice cracking. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean for this to happen. i swear.”

she clung to him like she was holding on for dear life, her fingers clutching the back of his shirt. “you’re such an idiot,” she mumbled into his shoulder, her voice muffled. “but i know you didn’t mean it. i know.”

john b stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face tight with worry. “hiw bad is it?” he asked quietly.

rafe pulled away from sarah, his hands trembling as he wiped at his face. “i don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “they’ve been in there for hours. they won’t tell me anything.”

sarah sniffled, wiping her tears. “she’s strong,” she said firmly, as if saying it aloud would make it true. “she’ll make it.”

rafe nodded, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. he didn’t deserve your forgiveness, didn’t deserve a second chance—but he prayed to every god he could think of that you’d pull through.

because losing you wasn’t something he could survive.

the three of them sat in tense silence, the cold plastic chairs of the waiting room doing nothing to ease the ache in their bodies or the weight on their hearts. rafe was hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the scuffed floor tiles. his hands were clasped tightly together, his knuckles white.

sarah sat beside him, her legs bouncing nervously, while john b leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, trying and failing to look calm. every so often, someone would glance at the doors to the ER, hoping for a sign, a nurse, a doctor—anything.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors swung open. a nurse stepped out, her calm expression betraying no urgency.

“are you here for y/n?” she asked gently, glancing between them.

rafe shot to his feet so fast his chair tipped over and clattered to the floor. “yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “is she—”

sShe’s stable,” the nurse said, holding up a hand to reassure him. “she’s not awake yet, but her vitals are strong. the doctor would like to speak with you, but you can see her now if you’d like.”

rafe didn’t wait for further explanation. he was already moving, practically jogging through the doors as the nurse gestured for him to follow. sarah and john b exchanged a look, then trailed after him, keeping a respectful distance.

the nurse led them to a quiet room at the end of the hallway. the sight of you hit rafe like a freight train.

you were lying in the hospital bed, looking worn out but peaceful, your chest rising and falling steadily beneath the thin blanket. an iv was hooked to your arm, and a monitor beeped rhythmically beside you.

rafe barely registered the nurse speaking to sarah and john b, or the doctor stepping in to explain your condition. his world had narrowed to you.

he moved to your bedside, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. your skin was warm, soft, and the simple touch made him exhale a shuddering breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“you’re okay,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “you’re gonna be okay.”

his thumb brushed gently over your knuckles as he sank into the chair beside the bed, his knees almost buckling from relief. he didn’t care about the tubes, the machines, or the doctor’s voice in the background.

all that mattered was that you were stable. you were alive.

he leaned forward, his forehead nearly resting against your hand, as silent tears slid down his cheeks. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “i’m so sorry, my angel. i’ll never let this happen again. i promise.”

the doctor’s voice faded into the background, and sarah stepped closer, resting a hand on rafe’s shoulder. he didn’t look up, didn’t move.

he just held your hand, clinging to you like a lifeline, silently begging you to come back to him.

#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x kook!reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you

384 notes · View notes

alotofpockets · 3 days ago

Text

That's a lot of blood | Arsenal WFC x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "That's a lot of blood."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

The match was intense, the kind where every step, tackle, and shot felt like it could make or break the game. The crowd roared in the background, but you barely heard it, your focus narrowed to the field in front of you.

The opposition broke through your team’s line of defense, the ball sailing over the top. A one-on-one with the keeper was the last thing you wanted in a game like this. You pushed yourself to sprint back, muscles burning, and made the only choice you could: throw your body down for a tackle.

Your timing was perfect. The ball ricocheted off your foot and away from danger. But the striker tripped over you, her cleat catching your thigh as she fell. It all happened so fast that you didn’t process it until the sharp pain hit, like a knife slicing through your leg.

“Jesus.” Katie’s voice broke through your haze as she ran to your side. She dropped to her knees, her hands instantly on your shoulders as you tried to sit up. “Stay down.” Her tone was softer than you were used to from her on the pitch. “Trust me, that is not something you want to see.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” The panic very present in your voice. Before Katie could answer, Manu’s voice piped up from behind you. “That’s a lot of blood.”

Your eyes widened, and your stomach churned. Blood? That wasn’t a good sign. “Nice going, now she’s scared.” Katie snapped, glaring at the goalkeeper. It was well known within the team that you didn’t handle blood well. Let alone your own blood covering your thigh.

“Right, sorry!” Manu kneeled down beside you. “It’s not that bad. Really.” You shot her a look, “You can’t say that right after you say there is a lot of blood. Those two do not work together!”

Katie chuckled at your comment, but quickly gathered herself to be there for you. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the seconds dragging on as you lay there waiting for the medics to arrive.

The pain in your leg throbbed, and you felt the warm fluid in your leg. Your shorts sticking to your leg even more than before.

Then curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced down. A mistake. “Oh god.” Your face turned pale as you saw how much blood was covering your leg. You couldn’t even see the wound anymore.

A wave of nausea washed over you. Lotte, who had been hovering nearby, quickly knelt by your side. She gently pushed your shoulders back to the ground. “Hey, don’t look at that. You’re going to be okay. It’s not as bad as it seems. Just focus on me, alright?”

Her calm demeanor steadied you slightly, though your breathing was still shallow. The medics finally arrived, gauze and gloves in hand. You flinched as they applied pressure to the wound, the sting making tears spring to your eyes.

“Just breathe,” Lotte said, her voice soothing as she wiped dirt and grass from your face. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ve got this.”

Katie took your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. “Don’t make me show you how to breathe,” she teased, a playful glint in her eye despite the situation.

Her joke makes you chuckle. “See, you’re doing just fine.”

One of the medics looked up after inspecting your leg. “Good news, it’s not too deep. You’ll just need a few stitches.”

You sighed in relief, though the idea of stitches made your stomach twist. “A few stitches isn’t so bad.” You said out loud, trying to convince yourself.

Katie’s smirk appeared again. “Yeah, and chicks dig scars. You’ll find a girlfriend in no time now.” With a roll of your eyes you tell her that she’s awful. “If I’m awful, then why are you still holding my hand?” You stared at her deadpan. “Annoying too.”

Lotte shook her head at the two of you, a small smile on her lips. “You’re impossible, both of you.”

The medics wrapped your leg and helped you to your feet, with Katie and Lotte supporting you on either side. The trip to the tunnel was a blur, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the medical room with a couple stitches, a fresh bandage and crutches.

When you finally hobbled out to the bench, the game was nearing its end. The team checked on you, their faces a mix of concern and relief. You assured them you were fine, and that they could stop worrying about you.

The final whistle blew, and you looked up just in time to see Leah running your way with a grin on her face. “Scored that goal for you.” The team on the bench had informed you that Leah had scored off a corner just before you had made your way back.

You shook your head with a chuckle. “You so didn’t.”

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “Okay, maybe not.” She admitted, “But I am dedicating it to you. End of story.”

It didn’t take you long to get used to the crutches, so you joined the team on your round around the stadium, taking pictures with fans and signing their jersey’s and signs.

You noticed that no matter where you went, one of the girls was keeping an eye on you. While you appreciated their support, you were not looking forward to being babysat for the next few weeks while your leg was healing.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#pockets 5k celebration #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women #arsenal women x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #katie mccabe x reader #leah williamson x reader #lotte wubben moy x reader #manuela zinsberger x reader

336 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

Text

Squeaky Clean 4

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: yeah…

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A yawn strains your cheeks but you lock it behind your lips. Your eyes water with the constant glaze of fatigue. It could be the work; it’s a lot more physical than you expected, or it could be your usual insomniac tendencies. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. You just need to get through the day.

You drizzle the tub cleaner around the brim of the porcelain and watch it trickle down. There’s a hint of something scented still in the air. You note the bag of epsom salts on the little shelf. You guess Steve took your advice.

As you wait for the grime dissolver to do its thing, you turn and wipe down the thing, working methodically around the toothbrush holder and the white cup. You even clean the mirror, making sure not to miss a single inch. If you keep your hands moving, you don’t fixate on how dull this all is.

You grab your sponge and turn to crank on the faucet. You bend over the tub and set to work. Your shirt presses to the brim and you feel the moisture seep through to your stomach. You use the running water to scrub the cleaner to suds. The scent roils in the air.

You reach to the other side, one hand on the edge as you strain. You push your toes into the bathmat to extend further. As you feel you might tip into the deep basin, a firm weight settles along your hips and keeps you steady. You kick your feet into the floor as your head snaps up.

You squeeze the sponge in your fist and lean it against the opposite wall. You twist to see over your shoulder, squirming as Steve stands behind you, holding you as you sputter dumbly. What is he doing?

“You looked like you needed help?” He grins.

Your mind and heart race, competing to the panic line. What the hell? You want to yell at him to get off but your caution chokes the protest from you. As much as he’s overstepping, you need the job. Your landlord doesn’t care that the market is shit, he just wants his money.

“I’m... fine,” you eke out.

“You sure?” He asks.

“Yeah, er,” you nudge his fingers with your yellow glove as you turn back to your task. “I’m sure.”

“Well, let me know,” he loosens his grip and drags it around to your lower back. His touch sends a shiver through you. He draws away and the warm lingers there, another spatter as suddenly a clap stings across your ass.

You grunt and keep yourself steady with the hand pressed to the wall. Your eyes widen in disbelief. Steve hums as his footsteps softly retreat. You shudder as you stare at the ivory tile embossed with lilies. He didn’t just...

You scrub in circles as you wade through the shock of the encounter, trying to convince yourself it didn’t happen. You still feel the impact hot against your jeans. You rinse the tub out and stand. Maybe it’s from bending over for so long or the cleaner but you’re dizzy.

You finish up the bathroom but can’t make yourself leave. Where is he? Is he hiding? Does he realise what he did? Is he embarrassed?

Alright, you guess you can talk to Jan at the agency and get this sorted out. Yeah, you need a new client. This one isn’t working out. You gather up the cleaners and tiptoe out of the room. You stop short as you near your kit by the shoe mat. He can hear you. He has super hearing, right?

You’re further shaken by the reminder of his superiority. Before, you only thought of the disparity of your bank accounts, you hadn’t even considered the most obvious disadvantage. More than just the physical. He is Captain America.

Would he notice if you left early? He could report you first if he did. Then you’re the one getting dumped, not him. Between the two of you, he’d be the one they’d want to keep. You’re just another cleaner. You can be replaced.

So get through it and hope you can get a new placement. Hopefully closer to home. Or maybe further. Anywhere, really.

You wade through the townhouse warily. You wipe down the dining table as your mind wanders away. The table presses into your tummy. You look down and retract. Would anyone believe you? You’re nothing special. Steve Rogers wouldn’t waste his time on you. I mean, he works with Black Widow and have you seen her in a body suit?

Stop. Focus. Just get it done.

You continue your usual path through the house. Knocking on each door, checking that each room is empty before you tend to it. As you find each vacant, your dread builds. You’re not so sure he’s hiding from you out of shame now. It’s starting to feel like a game. Like he’s taunting you.

As you return to the entry way to grab your vacuum and do your final walkthrough, you stop just before the banister post. You stare at the broad set of shoulders as they slowly turn to you. You swallow and clutch the cloth in your hand tight as Steve turns to you in full regalia.

Cowl, suit, shield. He’s dressed to the nines in his Cap attire. It doesn’t look as campy as on the television. You can see the intricacy of the armour along his gauntlets and the way it lines his ribs just so, alluding to the wall of muscle beneath. That's what he is in that moment, a barrier. The door is behind him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his jaw looks sharper as the top of his face is hidden under the cowl. “Looking for something?”

You shake and point to the vacuum. He turns and looks around, grabbing the vacuum by the hose and dragging it around. He raises the flat end and wiggles it toward you.

“There you go,” his eyes shine through the cowl.

You shuffle forward and reach for the body of the vacuum. You squeak as he stops you by poking the vacuum nozzle against your chest. You flinch and reel back. He jabs until you’re walking backwards. You squeeze the cloth in your hand until your knuckles hurt.

You hit the banister post and stare at him dumbly. He pushes the flat attachment down so you feel your chest bulge around it. His eyes follow and he lightly jiggles you with the plastic end. You grab it instinctively to stop him.

“Steve,” you hiss.

He chuckles and flips the end free of your grasp. He taps your chin, just enough to make you flinch, and you recoil, showing your hands defencelessly. The cloth drops to the floor as he raises your head with the firm prod of the vacuum.

“They won’t believe you. Captain’s got a lot more going on than whoever’s scrubbing his toilet,” he steps closer, towering over you. You glower up at him, stomach roiling with disgust. “But hey, Stark’s got attorneys on retainer. He owes me one.”

Your lip trembles helplessly and you shake your head. “Why--”

He tuts and taps your chin again, quieting you. His smile remains as he leans in and brings his other hand up, tugging at the top of your shirt until he exposes your cleavage. You press yourself against the banister and whimper.

“Because I can,” he snaps the tension in your collar before letting go. “But the good cap’s gotta go save the world before he gets his prize.” He backs up and once more offers up the vacuum hose, “and you gotta make sure he comes home to a nice clean house. Like a good girl.”

You grab the hose and he keeps hold of it. You hold his gaze as the urge to rip it away and swat him shakes in your grip. He snickers again. You won’t win this battle.

“Tell Jan I say ‘hi’ and I’ll have that client survey done soon,” he lets go and turns away with a sigh. He turns to the door and puts his hands out, cupping them emphatically as he looks from one to the other. “You sure are a handful.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #maid au #squeaky clean #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

194 notes · View notes

melliemell · 2 days ago

Text

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), trying out a new position but Dazai gets too focused on staring and teasing than actual fucking (until successful persuasion that is), dazai levels of menace, Approx 1.2k words

“What? Pshhh, it’s a perfectly rounded ass I’ll have you know–”

You groaned, hiding your face deeper into the mattress. “Don’t just comment on it. It’s bad as it is. Get on with it.” Your muffled voice only drew another chuckle from Dazai.

“Gimme a second, I’m still engraving this in my mind,” Dazai said. “Future references and all.”

You hated Dazai. So much. Him and his annoying face and stupid voice and long slender fingers as they kept you in place, ass ceremoniously up as you stood on elbows and knees before him.

Worst idea possible.

You should have kept to the vanilla sex. You’ve no idea what possessed you to suggest… a change of angles, let’s say. The flash of excitement in Dazai’s eyes only spurred you on, unfortunately–that innocent eagerness for pleasing one’s partner taking hold of your better judgment.

But Dazai was just looking at you now, one hand lazily stroking at his cock as he trailed feathered touches down your back. Your patience was waning and your steadily kept composure along with it.

You must be definitely quite the sight, one that kept popping in your mind with how utterly embarrassing it felt to you. Your confidence wound up shriveling away with every second, face red but not from the fun type of activity.

“What happened to partner’s pleasure coming first?” you asked, sneaking a judging glance at Dazai's grinning face.

“Ooh, I am known to be very generous, yes,” Dazai said, and you shuddered as his hand trailed down to your pussy lips, teasing at your entrance curiously. As if he weren’t inside you less than five minutes ago. You were still very wet and very welcoming; the idiot only needed to take the hint.

“Well?”

“Well what?” He pressed a finger inside you, making you arch into the touch. He was quick to find your sweet spot, twisting his finger with just the right pressure to have you breathing hard again. “See? The picture of ample virtue, solely and entirely for the loveliest of beauties.” And he leaned down, chest pressing to your back as he kissed the spot between your shoulders.

“You talk too much,” you panted, pushing your hips back as you sought more of Dazai’s touch.

“Only truths. The heart sings when it’s in love, you know that?” he whispered against your ear, nose brushing playfully against it. “Seeing your ass up like that really set the deal for me. A man in love indeed.”

“Weirdo,” you said, capturing his lips before he went on with his smart remarks again. You could feel his cock against your under-thigh, hard and still leaking. Dazai was expressing a remarkable level of self-restraint. Too bad you had no such plans for yourself. “Dazai, dear?”

He hummed against you, biting playfully at your lower lip.

“If you don’t stop with your teasing now and get your cock inside me…” You cocked your head away, letting him seek for your closeness. “I’ll just leave.”

A dramatic gasp. “You wouldn’t.” He dragged his fingers up to your clit, smearing your wetness as he began stroking you. “That would be too cruel.”

Your belly fluttered, the familiar pressure building slowly up again. You lay back down, cheek resting on the mattress as you focused on the sensation. “The cruellest.” Your eyes fluttered.

Dazai kissed your shoulder before he rested his chin on the same spot. Even with your eyes closed you could tell he was watching you. You could even picture perfectly his brown eyes, the way he took you all in. It used to throw you off how much Dazai enjoyed eye contact during sex. Face to face as he held you close to him, soaking every detail, every reaction he managed to bring out of you. It used to trigger a self-consciousness that made you uncomfortable at times, but you knew where his habit spurred from.

As hard as it was to believe this, Dazai was attracted to whatever he saw. Even when you thought you weren’t at your best, he was still there. Looking.

That mind of his so loved being perverse too, to your immense embarrassment at times. But as long as you felt comfortable–and preferably in the territory of your own home, thank you–you didn’t mind treating him to a pretty view here and there. Besides, embarrassment really did die away once his hand was on your clit making your brain foggy with pleasure.

Sure. Good idea, yes.

You fluttered your eyes open, hooded gaze locking immediately with brown irises. You arched a brow.

Predictable.

A quiet, barely there sigh shuddered past your lips; enough to slightly pull at Dazai’s attention. Being loud in bed was not one of your fortes, and that’s why it was so… valuable. In times of need, that is.

You built up your sound carefully, shuddering through your every breath as your moans began spilling from your lips with every passing moment. You didn’t know if it was the placebo effect at play here, but you were pushing yourself even closer to your orgasm, the release of inhibitions spurring you forward unexpectedly.

You found yourself pulling at Dazai roughly, seeking him as your tongue pried his lips open. He kissed you just as fervently, grinning like a fool as his fingers moved faster against your clit. You could barely keep it in.

“Dazai,” you said, voice downright commanding in your desperation.

Good thing Dazai was a quick read, holding you in place as he finally slipped his cock inside you a second later, groaning against your lips.

It was a blur after that, Dazai’s thrusts sloppy and reaching deep as he fucked you into the mattress. He rose up at some point, using his weight to angle himself just right, the audible sound of skin slapping against skin too arousing for your mind to focus on anything else.

Dazai didn’t stop even as you clutched at the sheets between waves of pleasure, your orgasm passing through your body mercilessly. You were blinking the moisture from your eyes when Dazai pulled you up suddenly. Your body felt limp as he settled you against him, still thrusting inside you as a hand cupped at your breasts. Your thighs trembled from the position, pussy clenching involuntarily around Dazai as you still came down from your high.

“Ohh fuck–” Dazai laughed, the sound verberating through his ribcage. “Holy fuck of a–”

He stiffened, a low, guttural moan leaving his lips as you felt him spilling inside you. Dazai’s head dropped on your shoulder, breathing hard.

You patted him on the forehead, hand falling back down from the extreme effort. “Please don’t lean too much on me now, being crushed is not fun.”

“I’ll talk to gravity about it,” he mumbled against your shoulder, weight falling dangerously forward.

Your eyes widened. “Dazai!”

“Ha.” He blew a raspberry on your neck, laughing at your exasperated face. “Gotcha.”

Ass. Absolute ass. But then he nuzzled against you, deep brown eyes looking up at you with so much adoration your annoyance all but dissipated. A smile crept on your lips, accompanied by a feeling of warmth within your chest.

Oh well. He was your ass, at least.

252 notes · View notes

moshuka · 2 days ago

Text

bratty-- jinx.

CW!! mention of anal, spanking, pain kink, dubcon maybe, crying, sub!jinx, prob ooc jinx, english isn’t my first language, based off this vid and this one

“OHH, JINX!”

You walk into her hideout seething. You heard from Thieram, the bartender at The Last Drop, (who Jinx likes to call Chuck) that your girlfriend was at the bar last night, flirting around. You can’t blame her for having a flirty personality, but you can blame her for acting on it.

You hear her before you see her. The soft swish of her long two braids dragging against the floor, and then she comes into view, her pale legs being showed off by a pair of baby pink lacy panties.

Oh, she’s in for it.

Jinx can feel you the second you stomp through the door. Her eyes go wide, her breathing catching in her chest. It isn’t often she sees you like this. Actually, ever.

She takes stock of your tense shoulders, the clench of your jaw. Her heart thumps faster in her chest, her eyes tracing down over your form, and finally landing on your curled up fists.

She sees the storm coming. She’s in deep deep trouble. She grins at you, her smile widening at the glare you throw her. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Bedroom. Now. You’ve got thirty seconds to explain yourself before your pale little ass is bright red.” You drag her into the bedroom area by her two braids.

Jinx’s eyes widen with surprise as you drag her into the bedroom. She lets out a high pitched squeal, not expecting the rough treatment.

She bites her lip, resisting the urge to reach up and soothe her scalp.

The second the door closes behind you, she spins around to face you, her hands on her hips, jutting out her chest challengingly.

“What’s your deal? You’re acting like I cheated on you or something!”

You can feel your blood boil as she talks back to you, her voice so full of bravado and sass that your hands start to shake.

“Oh, is that what I’m acting like?” you snap, taking a step forward, “Well, why don’t you tell me what you were up to last night?”

Jinx freezes, her smirk faltering for a second. She can’t lie to you. You’d see right through her.

"W-well, I..." She starts, her voice wavering for a split second. She swallows, avoiding your eyes.

"I was with Chuck," she starts, her eyes drifting away to the wall.

You take another step forward, reaching underneath her chin, and forcing her to look at you. "Oh, I know. He told me all about your trip down to The Last Drop last night. Why don’t you tell me what happen." You ask, your voice low and dangerous.

Jinx lets out a small gasp as you grip her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her breath comes out shaky, her heart pounding in her chest.

She tries to look anywhere else, to avoid the anger in your eyes, but you grip her chin tighter, making her wince softly.

"I-I..." She stutters, before finally sighing and giving in.

"I was bored, alright? You, were working, and Chuck was there, and he-” she cuts herself off, biting her lip. “He poured me a drink! He said it’d be free if I flirted with some people, and you know I can’t turn down a challenge—“

You feel your heart sink in your chest as she admits what happened.

You can see her struggling with herself, internally fighting her need to be defiant with the part of her that doesn’t want to disappoint you.

As she talks about the drink, and flirting with the random strangers, your anger boils over, and you snap. You grab her shoulders and shove her hard against the wall, making her squeak from surprise.

“You’re damn right I know how much you love to flirt,” you say through gritted teeth.

Jinx’s eyes widen as you shove her against the wall, her back hitting it with a loud thud.

Her heart starts to pound, her pulse racing as adrenaline and fear course through her system.

You’re angry. So, so angry. She’s never seen you like this. Even when you get mad at her, you’re always gentle, almost too gentle. This is new. This feels dangerous, but that part of her that loves danger makes her lick her lips.

You can see her body trembles against yours, the way her lips part ever so slightly, almost like she’s enjoying your anger. It makes the fire in your chest burn brighter.

You move forward, pinning her against the wall, putting your forearms across her collarbone. You don’t press down, just enough to keep her in place.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” You say, your voice low and dangerous. “You just can’t ever do as you’re goddamn told.”

Jinx’s breath comes out in short, quick pants as you push her against the wall. She feels helpless, pinned under your body.

But even as her heart pounds, she can’t deny the thrill of the situation. The way you overpower her, hold her down, makes her shiver in excitement.

“Y-you never told me not to,” She murmurs, her voice coming out as a whimper.

You finally break. “Strip. Keep the panties on, though.” You sit on the bed, crossing your arms as you lean against the headboard. “You have five seconds to get across my lap, ass up.”

Jinx’s eyes widen at your words, her body reacting before her mind can process.

She quickly unbuttons her shirt, letting it fall from her shoulders, leaving her bare to your eyes. She hooks her fingers into her panties, but stops her movements.

“Are you-“ She starts, but you cut her off, snapping your fingers.

“Four. I said keep the panties on, didn’t I?”

Jinx shudders. You always look at her like she’s something priceless - something beautiful. But here and now, the way you look at her is different.

She can still see that you love her, but there’s anger in your eyes. Lust, but more than that, there’s a want to punish her.

She closes the distance between the two of you, and with a deep breath, lays herself over your lap, positioning herself so her ass is up in the air, and her face is down.

Her body feels hot against yours, her skin burning with anticipation of what’s to come.

As she positions herself, you can see the small patch of her panties covering her. The pale pink fabric doing little to cover the skin beneath. You take a moment to appreciate the way she looks so vulnerable beneath you, letting you do as you want.

Gently, you run your hand over the curve of her ass, letting your touch linger. You can feel the way her skin quivers in response.

“Count.” You murmur, raising your hand.

Jinx lets out a shaky breath as you touch her, her mind swimming. She knows what’s coming. She’s craved this, but this feels different. This feels real.

She clenches her eyes, nodding. “Yes, I will.”

Her breath comes out in a rush as she feels your hand leave her skin, and then— thwack!

“One!”

You can hear the pain in her voice, that twinge of agony that she’s trying so hard to hide.

You love her. She’s your everything, but she’s also a brat. A brat that needs to learn her place. So you bring your hand down again, harder than the last.

“Two!” She gasps, wriggling from the pain.

You try to ignore the way the wet patch on her panties grows exponentially. “Stay still, you keep moving I’ll start over.”

Jinx feels the tears pricking at her eyes, the pain on her skin stinging.

“Y-yes, ma’am.” She says, her voice strained.

Your hand falls again. Thwack! “Three!”

Again. Thwack! “Four!”

There’s no way she’ll be sitting down comfortably for a while. You can tell she’s biting her lip, trying not to cry out at the pain.

You pull her sticky panties to the side.

Jinx feels you pull her panties to the side, exposing her completely. It’s a vulnerable feeling, but a part of her is secretly enjoying the situation.

“Please,” she begs, looking back towards you, “Please don’t—“

Thwack!

“Why’d you stop counting, hm?” You taunt.

Thwack!

“Five!” She gasps, “Six!”

“Seven!” Her voice is cracking now, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“H-how many more?” She asks, her voice hoarse.

“Depends. How much was the drink?” You smirk, spanking her again. She groans, her body tensing against the next hit. “Twenty-seven.” She whispers, “It-it was 27 washers.”

“Twenty seven spanks sounds good, then.” You decide. Jinx lets out a small sob, her legs shaking. She knows she deserves it, even if a part of her tries to fight it. “Yes, ma’am.” She says, burying her face against the bed.

Thwack!

“Eight!”

Thwack!

“Nine!”

Thwack!

She’s crying now, her body writhing weakly against your lap.

Thwack!

“Twenty!” She exclaims, “Twenty s-seven. That’s all, that’s what you said—“

You can feel your anger boiling over, replaced by something else. She was so eager, so desperate to push your buttons. Make you jealous. Make you hurt.

But now, now she’s sorry. She knows she’s done wrong, and your anger turns to pity.

You gently pull her off your lap and onto the bed. She’s laying on her stomach, her skin red and hot.

“You still think it was worth it?” You ask, gently running your fingers over her heated skin.

She shakes her head, a small noise leaving her. “No, ma’am.” She says, almost automatically.

She’s shaking, small tremors wracking through her body. Her eyes are red, tears staining the pillows.

She can feel your touch on her skin, soothing the redness. She feels ashamed, for not listening to you, for making you angry.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeats over and over again, hiding her face against the sheets. She’s cummed around four times from the spankings alone, and twice from when you‘d started paying attention to her tight asshole.

You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” You say, tracing your fingers across her sensitive skin.

But you can tell she is, in her own way. She looks remorseful, and you know it’ll be a long, long time before she acts like this again.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you act.” You say, running your fingers over her hips, “Maybe, you’ll remember this, and think of me, instead of the next pretty person to give you a wink.”

She nods meekly under your touch. “Y-yes ma’am.” She says, lifting her head to look at you.

Her heart stutters in her chest when she sees the look in your eyes, the disappointment etched in your face.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats again, “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you say, just don’t look at me like that.”

“I know.” You kiss her forehead as her eyelids flutter, pulling a blanket over her trembling body. “I know you will.”

#jinx #jinx x reader #jinx smut #smut #wlw #lesbian #arcane x reader #arcane smut #sub!jinx #sub character #dom reader #female reader #wlw smut #ns/fw

302 notes · View notes

saturnscafe · 2 days ago

Text

͙˚ ༘✶Big Bad Wolf | Werewolf Boyfriend? (Female Reader)

Smut Below

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s a little longer than I anticipated however I just adore it. I hope you all will enjoy it as well!

-🪐

He was known as the as the asshole of the college. Always picking fights and going after anyone who even dared breathe in his direction. He stood tall, muscular with scars that decorated his face and arms. His wolf ears standing at attention but not listening to anything that was around him. Everyone avoided him like the plague even you. However today had other plans.

You were sprinting down the hall, trying to get away from some asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer. When you ran face first into his broad chest. He was ready to say something to you until he saw the other man that trailed behind you. He grabbed you by the waist moving you to behind him before locking eyes with the other guy.

“Get lost” he said in annoyance. The other guys eyes looked over at you then back at him. Was he really willing to pick this fight?

“Dude Kyzer relax, just- just let me get my girl and we can forget any of this happened” the man said trying to grab for you.

Before you knew it he had the guys arm twisting it. “I said.” He growled. “Get lost”. His grip on his arm tightened nails digging in before pushing him away. The other man admitted defeat walking back with his tail between his legs.

Kyzer looked at you glaring down at your shaken body. “You good?” He asks surprising you even more. You don’t respond though, mind still in flight mode. He placed his hand under your chin lifting it up to look at him “hello? Are you good?” He said sternly.

You quickly nod snapping back to reality “yeah- yeah I’m good, sorry. Uhm- thank you.” You rambled out. You swear you saw a smile creep on his face but it was quickly gone.

He cleared his throat “if he tries anything again uhm?” He said hinting at you to tell him your name.

“Oh, uhm y/n” you said.

“If he tries anything again y/n, you come to me yeah? I’ll put his ass in the ground” he said with a twisted grin before walking off.

What was that? Was he actually nice? Or did you just catch him on a good day? No matter you went about your day. Going home and studying before getting the idea to bake him something to say thank you. Maybe he wasn’t so bad? Maybe this could be a way to get him to open up? But why did you want that? You scratched your brain, shit- did you like him? No, no that’s crazy. You still baked him something treats to take to him, hopefully he liked cookies.

The next day, you found him in his usual spot. Sitting at the tree while he ate his lunch. He looked peaceful as he ate, listing to some music and flipping through a book. You were so nervous to approach him but you did. Tapping him on the shoulder he turned his head quick. Ready to scream at whoever dared to disturb his peace. Until he noticed it was you, he tilted his head a bit like a puppy.

“Sorry for bothering you- I- uhm- made you these. As a thank you” you said sheepishly handing him the small container of cookies. He blinked, processing what you just said. No one’s ever really shown him much kindness. Even for doing something good like he had for you. So to say he was taken aback was an understatement.

“You made these for me?” He asked repeating your words.

You nod smiling at him shyly. “Yeah, if it wasn’t for you I- I don’t know what would have happened” you admit.

He felt his cold heart warm, pounding so loud he thought you could hear it. He looked over your face trying to read you. Fuck were you this cute yesterday? “Thank you” he said taking the container. He opened it right away the smell of the cookies making him sigh happily. “They smell delicious” he said smiling down at them.

He’s smiling? He’s smiling! Your heart skipped a beat seeing his pretty smile. Those sharp pearly whites of his made your body warm. Your face must have been red cause he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re cute” he said. It slipping past his lips before he could even stop himself. The compliment only making your face turn more red.

“I- uhm- thank you” you said feeling like you could puke at any second from the butterflies. “You��re not so bad yourself” you said with a smile.

His face started turning red, before he quickly turned away. “You uhm- you like movies?” He asked feeling stupid at his question. When you nodded his words came out fast “you wanna watch a movie later?” Fuck why’d he say that, his place was a wreck.

“Sure!” You said smiling like a dummy. “I just got a new system, we could watch it at my place?” You said.

“Cool, cool. What’s your number? So uhm- I can get your address” he said trying to play it cool. After exchanging numbers your alarm for your next class goes off making you jump. “I’m guessing no horror movies if you jump that bad from a phone” he teased.

You rolled your eyes “I’m gonna be late, I’ll text you my address. 7 sound alright?” You ask.

“Perfect” he said.

And you were off, sprinting to your next class.

His mind twirled with the thought of you. Fuck what did he get himself into? He doesn’t talk to many people nor has he ever had an actual relationship let alone a date. Sure he’s had his share of hook ups but that’s about as deep as it went. What the hell was he gonna do?

When the time came he stood outside your door taking a deep breath before knocking. When you answered his heart raced, here you were in sweats and a hoodie. How the hell did you look so good? When he walked in the smell of you overflowed him almost making him dizzy. You guided him into the living room where you had a bunch of blankets on your pool out. You were gonna be on a pull out bed. A bed. The two of you. His cock twitched in his pants at the mere thought of it.

“I’m sorry my place is a bit of a mess, but I got the couch all cozy. Oh and I have a bunch of snacks if you’re hungry” you said with a shy smile. He nodded following you to the pull out, when he sat down the scent of you was even stronger. Probably from all the covers you gathered from your bed. “Wanna watch a horror movie?” You asked flickering through the movies on the tv.

“Sounds goo- wait” he said looking at the screen. “You like that show?” He asked seeing a show you were watching earlier. It being one of your favorites.

“Uh yeah! It’s like one of my favorites I’m rewatching it since the new seasons gonna be coming out” you said smiling.

“No way! It’s one of my favorites, I’m super excited for the new season! I even have a poster of it in my room!” He rambled. It was cute seeing him all excited over something he liked. Seeing his cute smile light up.

“Maybe when the new season comes out we can have a watch party? I’ll make us some dinner and we can binge watch it” you said.

“Sounds perfect” he said back. It felt nice being able to talk to someone. To have something in common with you too.

You both decided on a movie, getting all covered up as it started. He was nervous to move closer to you but you were feeling a bit bold so you Scooted closer. Your shoulder touching now bodies close to one another. The scent of you driving him crazy more so now that he could feel your warmth. He moved his arm, to finally wrap around you “uhm- is this ok?” He said softly.

You nodded “aren’t horror movies the best ones to cuddle up too?” You said laying your head on him.

“Is that why you picked it” he said back in a teasing tone.

“Maybe”

“In that case why don’t we lay down in cuddle hmm? I mean we got this whole bed in all” he said with a smirk.

He was surprised that you instantly moved letting him lay behind you so you could both could watch the movie properly. He took his spot behind you wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body as close as he possibly could. His hand rested on your waist holding you tightly. His mind swirled with your scent god how was this happening to him?

A few minutes passed as you focused on the movie. Being painfully aware of the man behind you as he pressed himself against you. You could feel his girth cock pressing against your ass and you couldn’t help yourself. Grinding back against him, he let out a groan barely audible if it weren’t for him being so close. The sound of him turning you on way more than you thought it would. He didn’t stop you though, letting you rut yourself against him. Finally getting some friction.

His hand that was resting on your waist squeezed at every movement. You could hear faint ‘fucks’ coming from him only driving the want higher. The movement of you paired with the sweet smell of your dripping cunt was becoming too much for him. His hands hooked your at your pants “can I take these off?” He said softly.

You nodded letting him rid you of your sweats and your panties. He pushed his pants down after taking yours off. His big cock springing free finally. You could finally feel how big he truly was, fuck did you want him. His hands glided down your body moving your leg over his. His long fingers pressed against your needy nub making you whimper. His face was nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he licked up it.

His fingers lazy played with your clit before roaming further down. He couldn’t believe how wet you were, how wet you were for him. His fingers finally pushed into your dripping core curling ever so nicely. His movements were just as lazy, his thumb pressing against your clit once more. His mouth watered at the smell of you. He needed to taste you, and he needed to do it right now. With no warning he pulled himself from you quickly moving his body down yours.

He dived into your cunt, tongue quickly pushing into your folds. The moan you let out made his cock twitch. It was already leaking like a faucet ready to be buried inside you. “Fuck you taste even better than those cookies you made me” he said. His hands hooked around your legs pulling you closer to him as he ate you out like a starved animal. His tongue pushed deep inside you twirling around your tight walls. Your hands gripped at anything before gripping at his hair. You tugged on it softly making him groan “pull- ah- harder” he said. Of course you listened, tugging on his hair harshly pushing him somehow deeper into your cunt.

He felt like he was in heaven, fuck this must be heaven. Your cunt clenched around his tongue, knowing you were close he moved his hand to toy with your clit yet again. It didn’t take long after that for you to cum. Your body arched off the bed moans getting trapped in your throat only breathes making it past. He lapped up any of your sweet honey that dared to escape. Licking you clean before moving upwards to you. He kissed you messily. His cock head poking at your entrance.

Without any thoughts you moved yourself down letting his thick cock push into you. The stretch wasn’t bad, in fact the slight pain felt good. “Sh-shit” he moaned against your lips.

“Please- move” you whined out bucking your hips into him. His eyes met yours and what a sight to see. Your eyes were glazed over, cheeks flushed red. Fuck did you look so good. He blinked a second before everything sunk in. Your warm walls squeezing him so tightly. He started to move slowly before picking up speed.

His hands moved down pushing your shirt up. You quickly helped taking it off as he took his off too. He was delighted to see you didn’t even have a bra on either. His hands roamed your plush body, pinching at your perky nipples. He was quickly losing himself in you. His movements were becoming faster as his high was reaching near. “God you feel so fucking good, was this your plan all along huh? Get the big bad wolf all alone in your house to fuck you like a wild animal?” He teased.

“You- ah- you started it. You’re the one that was pressing there big dumb cock against me” you retorted.

“Can’t- can’t help it when you smell so good” he said back.

His movements were slowing down a bit making you whine. “Getting tired already? Need- ah need me to ride you?” You said with a grin. You felt his cock twitch at your words oh he definitely liked that idea. He wrapped his arms around you before lying flat on his back. Your legs straddled him the new position making him feel even deeper. His hands laid on your thighs those sharp nails digging into the soft skin.

As much as he wanted to show you how much of a big bad wolf he was he couldn’t help it. You were just too much for him, he was like some puppy dog that you had wrapped around your finger. When you finally got your feet in a proper spot you started moving. Bouncing up and down on his stupidly big cock. His knot forming as if his against your entrance. He watched as your tits bounced with every movement. His long tongue hung out of his mouth drool pooling with it.

“Fuck- just like that- ah” he moaned out. “Gonna let me knot you? Fuck please let me- need- need to breed you- ah- ah” he was such a mess under you. Your legs shook at the sight of him at his words. An orgasm washed over you without warning. Your body felt almost limp as it laid on top of him.

“I’m yours-“ you said in almost a whisper against his chest but he heard it. Oh boy did he hear it loud and clear. His hands gripped at your ass, fucking up into you with force.

“You’re mine? All mine?” He growled. “Good- all mine to- ah fuck- to breed- to claim- mine- mine” he kept repeating. Your hands that laid on his chest stared to dig in it his toned muscle. The slight pain Only driving him to fuck you harder. “Gonna take it all yeah? Gonna take everything I can give you- you’re mine. Mine.” He said.

“Yours. All yours.” You said softly against him. When those words finally left your lips that was it. He pushed up into you with one final thrust, his knot pushing past your entrance. The feeling alone bringing on another strong orgasm as you felt his balls empty inside you. His head that was nuzzled into your neck moved as he sunk his teeth deep into you. The pain the pleasure the everything of the situation had your mind floating. Your body shook harshly as you felt yourself squirting all over his cock and yourselves.

He let out a low growl holding your body tightly to him. He held you against him as you both came down from the intense orgasms. “You did so well” he almost purred into your ear.

A few minutes of silence mixed with heavy breathing filed the air before he spoke once more. “You really meant it right? That you’re all mine?” He asked sheepishly, afraid you’d take it back.

“I meant every word of it.” You said smiling. You kissed his cheek softly holding tightly to him.

You might have only known him as the asshole of the college but now. You were seeing him for who he truly was. He would let everyone believe he was still this big bad wolf that didn’t take anything from anyone. However when it came to you he was just a sweet overgrown puppy that would do anything for you.

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster fic #monster writing #monster x reader #terato #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster smut #monster #werewolf x reader #werewolf fic #werewolf smut #werewolf #werewolf fucker #werewolf imagine #werewolf nsft #werewolf partner

270 notes · View notes

halfmoonaria · 1 day ago

Text

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.

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #millers girl #jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #ask #sam carpenter x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron

183 notes · View notes

buttsmasher · 2 days ago

Text

Jennifer's Boyfriend

Warnings/Tags: Break-in, Gay Face Farting, Fart Torture, Unwilling Victim, Fart to tongue, Throwing Up, Ball Busting, (maybe just torture at this point?)

You’re startled awake from the sound of your bedroom slamming shut. The lights turn on and you’re momentarily blinded from being awakened in this way. “What the fuck?” You manage to get out as your hands cover your eyes from the light.

“Heard you’ve been flirting with my girl.” As your eyes adjust to the light you see Peter, your co-worker’s boyfriend standing at the bedroom door. He’s shirtless and wearing tight Calvin Klein briefs. It takes a few moments for your eyes to leave his bulge and back to his face.

“I seriously have no-” You begin. “Dude, get the fuck out of my apartment.” You say when you realize what’s happening.

“Nah bud, you have to make it up to me. No one gets to flirt with my girl for free.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about? Jennifer is so not my type.”

“Not what my girl said.” You throw your hands up in frustration.

“I don’t know what to say, but your girl lied.” You stand up ready to push Peter out of your apartment.

“So you’re saying my girl’s a liar?” You can’t help but facepalm. This dude can’t be serious.

“Please, just get out of my apartment before I call the police.” Peter seems to consider this for a moment.

“Nah, I need to show you what happens to guys who try messing with my girl.” He charges you and tackles you to your bed. You both struggle and wrestle until your face ends up next to his ass. You can smell his musk and notice that his briefs are a bit sweaty.

“Get off me!” You yell but he grabs the back of your head and pulls you close to his ass. His swamp ass disgusts you and face feels wet from the sweat.

“Don’t pass out, it’ll only make it worse for you.” You have no idea what he means until it happens:

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT

A loud, ten second fart gets blown across your face. “What the fuck?!” You yell out as the smell hits your nose and burns your nostrils. The sewage smell is overwhelming and you start trying to pull away harder. You slip out of his grip but he quickly grapples you and gets you on your back. He uses the opportunity to sit his full weight on your face.

PFFFFFFFFFFBBRBRBBRBBBRRRRRRR

“Chili tonight,” He says like he’s answering a question. “Always gets my stomach going.” You just gag and flail underneath him.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTT

Tears are streaming down your face as you try to get leverage against him. You’re punching his sides until he grabs both of your arms and holds them down to the your sides

PFFFFFFFFFBBRFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

“Settle down, you’re just making it worse for yourself.” You don’t heed his words, you continue to try and twist away but he has you pinned good.

“Please, I didn’t do anything!” You beg hoping he’ll have any kind of mercy.

“Liar. No one fucks with my girl.” PFFFFFFFFFFBBRBRFFFFFFFFTTTT “Especially not a bitch like you.” He grinds his ass hard against your face. Your nose gets pressed firmly against his hole. PFFFFFFFFFFFBRBBRFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT “Eat that bitch!”

PBRBRBBRBRRR PFFFFFFFFFFFFF

A wet fart followed by an airy fart gets forced into your nose. The smell is indistinguishable and utterly rank. You’re feeling weak when, Peter slightly lifts off your face. You’re surprised that there isn’t a brown spot after that last fart, but you don’t get to think about it much longer as he slams his ass on your face over and over again.

“You’re not going to be able to go to work for the next few days because you’ll be trying to wash my farts off your face.”

PFFFFFBBRBRFFFFFFFFFFTTT PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

He grinds his unwashed ass on your face for emphasis.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT

“But here’s the thing. You’ll always smell this, even when it’s not there anymore.”

PFFFFFFFBBR PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTT

“This will be in your head for the rest of your life.” He gyrates his hips to make a point. “Whenever you see my girl, you’re going to immediately think of this.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFT BBRRRRR PFFFTTT

“Get off me!” You yell again. “Someone help!”

“No one can hear you.”

PFFFFFFFFFBBRFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT

Between the loud farts and your yells being muffled by his ass, you know he’s probably right.

“I can’t even hear you and I’m right here.” He lifts up again and removes his underwear covering his ass. “Now the real show begins.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBRBRBFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT

Your face is blasted with toxic fumes. The smell is somehow much worse now that his ass is unfiltered. You’re out of breath between your yelling and the lack of fresh air. You’re sweating bullets and your leg won’t stop shaking.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFF

Peter groans loudly as the last fart rips out of his ass and directly up your nose. “Get your tongue out and get a taste of my ass.” You refuse but Peter roughly grabs your balls. “Taste my ass, or your balls get it.” Tears are streaming down your face as you begin to run your tongue against his nasty pucker.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

He releases the bomb directly on your tongue. You can feel the bile starting to come up and Peter stands up. You barely make it to the trash can next to your nightstand. Everything is spinning around you and you briefly see yourself in your standing mirror. You look disheveled and utterly broken. Before you can take too much longer of a look Peter grabs you and forces you to your knees.

“I don’t remember telling you to stop.” He roughly pulls your face against his ass again. “Eat.” You start crying but follow his orders. You tentatively flick your tongue against his pucker hoping you don’t have to swallow another gas bomb. “You can do better than that.” He uses the heel of his foot and kicks your balls, making you yelp. “I said, eat.” He says with venom.

You use the flat of your tongue and swipe up his crack and over his hole. It’s the most disgusting thing that you’ve done in your life and the taste is even worse. Peter gives a satisfied sigh when you run your tongue over his hole again. “That’s it. That’s nice.” He teases. “You have a nice tongue. Made for licking my ass.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT

“Fuuuuck” Peter moans as he forces you to swallow another disgusting fart down your throat.

“I can’t, I can’t.” You cry as you pull away again.

“You can, and you will.” He doesn’t let you get far away as he forces you against his ass. “Open your mouth.” You keep shaking your head no and he gives you another kick to your balls. You cry out but do as he says. “There you go, now get those lips around my hole.”

Nothing prepares you for the quiet hissing sound that comes out of his ass. It lasts for 15 seconds and you can feel your cheeks inflate as he floods your mouth with more and more of his toxic gas. You try to leave it in your mouth and pull away to release it but he doesn’t let you go. You start shaking from the lack of oxygen and eventually you swallow.

That’s when everything starts getting dizzy. You feel yourself starting to fall over and Peter’s hand lets you go. You thump against the ground, barely conscious. You watch as Peter grabs his briefs and kneels down next to you. He covers your head with his briefs before grabbing a pair of your sweatpants and putting them on.

“Next time I won’t be so nice.” He gives you a final look before leaving out your window. You try to get up but feel too weak. You use what little power you have to at least remove the briefs off your face. It doesn’t get rid of the terrible smell though. He was right, you’re going to take the week off just to get the scent off your face.

When you return to work next week, you do your best to avoid Jennifer at all costs. When you do accidentally run into her in the lunchroom, your nose is assaulted by the phantom smell of Peter’s gas. You do the reasonable thing and run and hide in the bathroom.

~~~FIN

109 notes · View notes

revelboo · 14 hours ago

Note

hi! idk if you are taking requests right now, but if you are, could i ask for sunder dealing with a human psychologist trying to help him? (maybe a joker and harleen quinzel dynamic?)

I’ll try. Title is Whipped Cream by Ludo

Whipped Cream

Sunder x Reader

• Chains slithering against the berth they’d bound him to, he halfheartedly tugs at them again even though he knows they aren’t budging. They never do. Head falling back, he grits his denta to keep from laughing. They’re right there. Just outside the door. All those lovely minds to play in and he can’t get at them. Starving and frustrated. How long has he been here alone? Times a bit difficult to gauge since they only come in to force feed him energon occasionally, wrapped up in protective gear to keep him out. Lunging suddenly against his bonds, he screams out his fury. And hears a soft cry in answer.

• Staggering, you slam into a wall, vision blurry with tears. Have no idea what just happened, but it felt like being shredded apart and crudely put back together. Falling to your knees and dry heaving, unable to breathe like your lungs can’t remember how before you shudder and gasp. Slumping over, you let the shaking rattle you to the bone as the pain needles through you. And you hear a low, guttural growl of noises. Whatever happened, wherever you are, you’re not alone.

• Straining to see, he’s stares at the small shape on the floor of his cell. An organic? Where had you come from? But then your fear and misery spark through his mind. Thrashing against his chains, hunger lashes him. And he reaches his thoughts for you, sinking in. Not Cybertronian, but there’s still memories to lose himself in. But as he pulls them to him, they come apart and just reform. Stilling as his lips part, he keeps reaching. Little sips of you that he can’t destroy. Why can’t he devour you? What are you? Swimming through your mind, learning you, he slowly smiles.

• “Poor, little love. So much pain.” Your head snaps up at that silken, dark voice. Mouth falling open as you spot the big, metal monster chained down. “Don’t fear.” And it, he, smiles at you, expression softening. Those pretty, blue optics snaring you as a sense of safety spills into you. “I can ease your suffering,” he croons, servos twitching. That voice is dark velvet stroking over you. Coaxing. Sliding up the wall, you stand. Wanting him to help you, to help him. “That’s right, love. Come to me. You know me.”

• Crooning as he plays with your thoughts, trying to twist them to him. Because he’s desperate to get his servos on you, mnemonic needles sliding out of his fingertips as he arches. So hungry. Just a taste, let him drown himself in your memories. And then you rock to a stop. Backing away, he feels your sudden fear. “What are you doing?” That soft, sweet voice surprising him as you retreat back to the far wall. You can’t feel him in you. No one ever does. “Get out of my head,” you gasp and he jolts when you manage to push him out. Shocked, he shivers in a mix of desperation and fascination. How are you resisting?

• “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.” That voice chimes through you, calling to you to come to him. Making you want to do whatever he wants. Covering your ears with your hands, you slide down to sit feeling weak and shaky. Can feel him in your head, spreading like poison and there’s a disjointed sense of hunger and desperation. His? Yours? You can’t tell. “Sunder. My name. I’m sorry, I’ve just been alone for so long.” That voice. Head lifting, he smiles at you and those optics are so deep you can get lost in them, hearing yourself whispering your own name to this monster.

#transformers x reader #sunder x reader #mtmte sunder

115 notes · View notes

scoupsakakitty · 1 day ago

Note

hi!! I really liked the hoshi x 4th gen idol fic, do you think you could write it for my boyfie vernon please?? thank uuu <333

Eyes on You | idol!Vernon x idol!reader | fluff

The lights in the massive arena sparkled like stars, cameras flashing as idols filled the stage for the final group photo of the night. Cheers echoed through the venue, a mix of excitement and celebration as the award show came to an end.

Y/N stood with her group, smiling for the cameras and waving at the fans, but her attention kept drifting.

He was standing so close.

Vernon.

His group was positioned right next to hers, and by some twist of fate, they had ended up nearly side by side. She could feel his presence without even looking, but when she finally dared to glance his way, their eyes met.

Her breath caught, but she quickly smiled, pretending to stay calm.

To her surprise, Vernon smiled back—a small, subtle smile that made her heart race.

They held eye contact for just a second too long before Y/N looked away, trying to focus on the cameras. But the heat in her cheeks lingered.

And then it happened again.

When the music started and the idols began to exit the stage, Vernon glanced at her one more time. This time, she caught him and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Caught you.

He just smiled.

———————————————————————————-

By the time Y/N got back to her dorm that night, her phone was blowing up.

Videos of Vernon and Y/N’s lingering stares and subtle smiles had gone viral. Fans had zoomed in, slowed the footage, and added captions about “soulmates” and “love at first sight.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands as her groupmates crowded around her, laughing and showing her the edits.

“Oh my God, look at this one!” one of them said, shoving their phone toward her. It was a slowed-down video of Vernon smiling at her with dramatic music in the background.

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

Her heart skipped when she saw his name trending alongside hers. Was he seeing all of this too?

———————————————————————————-

The next day, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a notification.

Instagram DM: Chwe Hansol

Her heart dropped. No way.

She opened it quickly.

Vernon: Hey. I hope this isn’t weird, but I just wanted to say congrats on your performance last night. You guys were amazing.

Y/N stared at the message, reading it three times before typing back.

Y/N: Thank you so much! Congrats to you too. You guys were incredible.

His reply came almost instantly.

Vernon: Haha, thanks. I think I might have stared a little too much last night. Sorry about that.

She laughed out loud.

Y/N: You definitely did. But it’s okay—I was staring too.

There was a pause, and Y/N wondered if she’d said too much. But then another message popped up.

Vernon: Wanna make it less awkward and talk in person sometime?

———————————————————————————-

A few days later, they finally met up. It was late at night, and the streets were quiet as they walked side by side through the city.

Y/N had been nervous at first, but Vernon’s easygoing vibe put her at ease. They talked about everything—music, family, and how surreal their lives felt sometimes.

At one point, Y/N pulled out her phone. “I need to show you something.”

“What is it?” Vernon leaned closer, curious.

“My cat had kittens last week,” she said, grinning as she pulled up photos.

His eyes lit up as he looked at the pictures. “No way. They’re so tiny!”

“I was there when they were born,” Y/N said, her smile softening. “Two of them needed help, so I had to step in.”

Vernon looked at her, clearly impressed. “You helped deliver them?”

She nodded. “It was kind of scary, but also amazing.”

“That’s… really cool,” he said, swiping through the pictures. “They’re adorable.”

“You should meet them,” Y/N said without thinking. When she realized what she’d said, her eyes widened. “I mean—only if you want to.”

Vernon smiled. “I want to.”

As they kept walking, Vernon brushed his hand against hers—just lightly at first, almost as if by accident. But when Y/N didn’t pull away, he laced his fingers through hers.

Her heart skipped, but she didn’t let go.

———————————————————————————-

A few days later, rumors exploded online.

Photos had surfaced of two people walking hand-in-hand late at night. Their faces weren’t visible, but fans speculated immediately—was it Vernon and Y/N?

Y/N scrolled through the photos, her stomach twisting. The comments were endless, and even though some fans defended them, others weren’t as kind.

Her phone buzzed.

Vernon: Don’t worry about the photos. Are you okay?

Y/N: I’m fine. Just nervous.

Vernon: Me too. Can I see you later?

They met up again that night, but this time, Vernon looked more serious.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” he said, his voice soft. “And about you.”

Y/N swallowed. “What about me?”

“I like you, Y/N. More than a friend.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against hers again. “I know this isn’t easy, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

Y/N’s heart pounded.

“I like you too,” she admitted.

Vernon’s eyes softened, and he let out a quiet breath of relief. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, they just stood there, hands still linked.

“I don’t care what people say,” Vernon said finally. “As long as you’re okay with this, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tightening around his. “I’m okay with this,” she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. “As long as we’re careful and honest with each other, I think we can handle it.”

Vernon’s lips curved into a relieved smile. “I’ll always be honest with you.”

They stood there for a moment longer, just taking it all in—the weight of what they had just admitted to each other, the excitement of something new, and the slight nervousness of what might come next.

Finally, Vernon gently pulled her closer, their joined hands resting between them. “I promise, I’ll protect this—protect us. No matter what.”

Y/N looked up at him, her chest warming at his words. “Me too.”

———————————————————————————-

The days that followed were a blur of rehearsals, schedules, and whispers about the mysterious couple in the viral photos. Fans had yet to confirm their identities, but speculation continued to spread.

Y/N tried to ignore the noise, focusing instead on the texts and late-night calls with Vernon that had quickly become the highlight of her days.

One night, Vernon called her after his schedule ended.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

Y/N sighed, flopping onto her bed. “Better than I expected. I think the rumors are starting to die down.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I miss you.”

Her heart fluttered. “I miss you too.”

“Can I see you this weekend?”

Y/N smiled. “You still want to meet my kittens?”

Vernon laughed. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to that.”

———————————————————————————-

When Vernon finally came over to see her kittens, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She had never invited someone into this part of her life before—her home, her safe space—but Vernon fit in so naturally.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes lit up at the sight of the kittens tumbling over each other in their tiny bed.

“No way,” he said, crouching down to get a closer look. “They’re even cuter in person.”

“I told you,” Y/N teased, sitting down beside him.

One of the kittens—a fluffy gray one—wandered over to Vernon and pawed at his shoe. He laughed and gently picked it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

Y/N watched him, her heart swelling.

“You’re really good with them,” she said softly.

Vernon looked up and smiled. “I like them. And… I like being here.”

Her breath caught, but before she could say anything, Vernon leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“You make me feel at home,” he murmured, his voice so soft she almost didn’t catch it.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the kitten purred in his lap.

———————————————————————————-

Despite the rumors, the world slowly moved on, and Vernon and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm.

They couldn’t be as public as other couples, but they found comfort in stolen moments—late-night walks, quiet dinners, and lazy afternoons playing with kittens.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. And as they held hands in the privacy of her apartment, surrounded by sleeping kittens, Y/N knew she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Vernon squeezed her hand gently, pulling her closer.

“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead.

Y/N smiled. “I know we will.”

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

91 notes · View notes

that-one-ostrich-friend · 1 day ago

Note

Heyyyy

can you do a song blurb for Sirius using Conan grays wish you were sober???

Wish You Were Sober

sirius black x reader - wish you were sober

word count: 850

summary: sirius only expresses interest when he’s drunk

warnings: mentions of alcohol, angsty, sirius kind of being an asshole

a/n: YOU FUCKING GENIUS that song is so him reminder my requests are open!!

(this gif is so silly to me)

The room was alive with a pulse that Y/n didn’t share. The music thudded in her chest, the laughter was too loud, and the air was thick with smoke and the tang of Firewhisky. She sipped from her untouched glass of Butterbeer, her eyes darting around James and Lily's living room, searching for an excuse to leave.

“This party’s shit,” she muttered under her breath, but no one heard her over the chaos.

From across the room, Sirius Black threw back another drink, his laughter cutting through the noise. He was magnetic—always had been. His ripped jeans, unruly hair, and reckless grin gave him the kind of charm that made people orbit him like he was the center of the universe. Y/n wished she wasn’t one of them.

She felt his eyes on her before she saw him weaving through the crowd. She turned away, hoping he’d lose interest, but his voice called her name over the din.

“Y/n!”

Her heart sank.

“Merlin’s beard,” she muttered, forcing a neutral expression as he approached.

“Why’re you all alone?” he asked, leaning on the wall beside her. His words slurred slightly, and she could smell the alcohol on him.

“Too loud. Not my scene,” she replied flatly, avoiding his gaze.

He grinned, completely ignoring her tone. “You’re missing out.”

Y/n sighed. “You’re drunk already?”

Sirius shrugged, taking it as a joke. “Does it matter?”

Yes, she thought. It mattered more than she could admit.

“Come on,” he said, tugging at her arm. “Dance with me.”

“No thanks.”

He didn’t let go. “Don’t be boring, Y/n. Just one dance.”

“I’m leaving,” she said, pulling away. “Go find someone else to entertain you.”

His grin faltered, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to go.”

“I don’t want to be here, Sirius.” She met his gaze for the first time, and the rawness there caught her off guard. For a moment, she thought he might say something real—something honest—but then he laughed, masking whatever he’d been about to reveal.

“Suit yourself,” he said, stepping back.

Y/n turned and headed for the door, her chest tight. She didn’t look back.

The cold night air was a relief, crisp and quiet compared to the chaos inside. Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets and started walking down the street, the sound of her footsteps the only company she needed.

She didn’t hear Sirius until he called her name again, his voice softer this time.

“Y/n, wait.”

She stopped, turning to see him jogging toward her, his breath clouding in the night air. His ripped jeans and loose jacket were no match for the cold, but he didn’t seem to care.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Being with you,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“You’re drunk, Sirius. Go back to the party.”

He shook his head, stumbling slightly. “I don’t want to be there. I want to be with you.”

Her stomach twisted. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow.”

“Of course I will.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

She sighed. “Fine. But I’m walking you home. You shouldn’t be out like this.”

The streets were quiet, the distant hum of music fading as they walked. Sirius tried to keep the conversation light, but Y/n wasn’t playing along.

“You’re no fun tonight,” he said, bumping her shoulder.

“Maybe because I’m tired of this,” she snapped.

He blinked, surprised. “This?”

“This,” she repeated, gesturing between them. “You only say these things when you’re drunk, Sirius. You flirt, you pull me in, and then the next day, you act like nothing happened. I’m done.”

He stopped walking, his expression unreadable. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” she challenged.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking.

She stared at him, her chest aching. “That’s what I thought.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached Sirius’s flat, he fumbled with his keys, swaying slightly. Y/n reached out to steady him, her touch hesitant.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, pushing the door open.

She hesitated on the threshold, unsure whether to leave.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, his voice hushed. “Just for tonight.”

“Sirius…”

“Please.” He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Her resolve crumbled, but only for a moment. “I can’t.”

He looked at her, his gray eyes pleading. “Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk,” she said, her voice shaking. “And I can’t keep doing this.”

He didn’t reply, and the silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“Goodnight, Sirius,” she whispered, stepping back.

Y/n walked home alone, the cold biting at her skin. She didn’t cry��she couldn’t. There was nothing left to give.

Sirius watched her go from his doorway, the weight of her words settling over him like a storm. He closed the door and leaned against it, his head in his hands.

They were both left with the same thought:

I wish you were sober.

55 notes · View notes

angelinthefire · 2 days ago

Text

"Blisters and bedrock" and The Flashback

So I know the flashback scene with Felicia in s2e5 is controversial. So I wanted to take the time to understand it properly, and do a close rewatch.

And I realized that even though I watched the episode like four times before, I never properly evaluated what was going on with Vander, I wasn't thinking of him as a character in his own right, just as a symbol of Vi and Jinx's past, and hence I didn't understand the scene until now.

Of course, it's all about "blisters and bedrock". That phrase is the name of the episode, the line is repeated three times, obviously it's important. So what does it mean?

The first time we hear it, it's in Vander's garbled memories. The memory that's most impactful to him is the failed rebellion on the bridge and its aftermath.

There's fighting, there's Silco looking at him sadly, with almost child-like sadness, there's Felicia's dead body, then Vander trying to drown Silco.

Those memories are followed by his recent experience killing the enforcers at Stillwater, then by seeing Powder, and a still-blurry image of Vi, even though he hasn't actually seen her yet since he awoke as Warwick, almost as though Powder's presence implies Vi.

Then there's the image of Felicia at the jukebox, and then a disfigured Silco, toasting "blisters and bedrock". It's ghostly, almost accusatory, said as Vander's being faced with the gory injury he inflicted. But what it means is a mystery.

The next instance of the phrase is in Vander's apology letter. He gives his little explanation for his actions, and signs off, "blisters and bedrock." Still not super clear. The letter itself is kind of weak, as far as apologies go. And then there's this cryptic phrase at the end.

Finally, Warwick/Vander is drawn to the girls by the scent of Isha's blood. When he first sees Vi, she almost looks like a two-headed creature from his POV shot, with her massive gauntlets looking sort of like heads, with the glowing hextech gems as their eyes (And I think I need to make a separate post about Vi in this episode, because it's so good). They fight. But then she lowers her guard and he sees her, and that's when we get the full flashback.

Right off the bat, it's established that Vander and Felicia are close. He knows that the song she picked has some special significance. The way they look at each other is kind of flirty too.

They're celebrating the opening of The Last Drop, which they intend to be a pillar for the community of the Lanes (which is a very shop-local approach to politics, but whatever). We knew this was Vander and Silco's endeavor, and Felicia is the only other one there, which means she has a special place in their lives.

Silco is largely passive in the scene. We get a cute little bait-and-switch where it seems like he's going to be a super-serious revolutionary, but then he says something playful instead ("I'm bozo one"), so we get a glimpse of what he used to be like, and what the dynamic of his relationship with Vander was.

And then we get to the reveal that Felicia is pregnant. Now, I think what happens next has been twisted through discourse, so I want to quote it directly:

Felicia: The second I told you I put you on the hook. You two are going to figure this Zaun thing out. I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock covered in blisters. You're not allowed to fail anymore. For her. For me. Vander: What’s the point if we can't raise an ankle-biter or two? Silco: To Zaun, then. Blisters and bedrock.

I've seen people characterize this as Vander and Silco promising to look after Felicia's child. It's not that at all. She's not telling them to look after her kid. She's telling them to succeed at winning independence for Zaun for the sake of her child.

"I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock covered in blisters. You're not allowed to fail." That is: Do whatever it takes. Even if it's hard, and ugly, and painful. That's how you'll help my child.

Vander agrees - what they're fighting for is future generations of Zaunites.

And Silco turns it into a toast. Blisters and bedrock - whatever it takes.

So now we know that in the first ghostly flashback, "blisters and bedrock" was an accusation, it was a manifestation of Vander's guilt. "We said, 'whatever it takes'. And look at Felicia. Look at me."

"Blisters and bedrock" gives Vander's apology letter new meaning too. It turns a kind of weak explanation into something much more meaningful. He's saying he'll do what it takes to patch things up.

In an episode all about regrets and missed chances and forgiveness, it really resonates.

And there's one more instance of "blisters and bedrock" being used - in the song "The Beast" off the season 2 soundtrack.

Vander isn't really able to express himself as Warwick. So the songs providing a very literal window into what he's going through is useful. The lyrics of "What have they done to us", used towards the end of the episode, are just straight-up what Vander's thinking in that scene. I don't think the lyrics to "The Beast" are used in the show, but they're very straightforward too.

Here are the lyrics to the bridge of that song:

What happened to the place where we left off Any progress erased, I was dead wrong Couldn't carve out a place, every dream that we chased Through the blisters and bedrock

Vander is recognizing his failure.

When Vander put down his gauntlets to look after Vi and Powder, he wasn't keeping a promise to Felicia. He was *breaking* his promise to her.

The flashback frames the conflict between Vander and Silco in more personal terms too. In terms of what united them, they both promised to fight for Zaun for the sake of Felicia's child. But when those two things are posed against each other, Silco is willing to kill kids in order to fight for Zaun, while Vander gives up the fight for Zaun to protect the kids.

I think it's significant that the flashback doesn't end on "blisters and bedrock". It ends on Vander suggesting a baby name, showing where his priorities are going to be

And when he sees Vi, as Warwick, he sees the girl who he gave up the fight for. He's remembering his failures, he's tormented by his failures. But Vi, and Powder, are worth it for him.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #Vander #silco #Vi arcane #arcane thoughts #whenever I realize something like this I'm always like #'oh that was staring me in the face. that was written in a big neon sign'#I just never really stopped to think about Vander before

56 notes · View notes

applejuicebegood · 6 hours ago

Note

hey! if its alright, can i request some jason todd hcs where the reader is jasons little sister seems like the opposite of him (like always yapping, loves bright colors, etc) but they actually like a lot of the same things (like books, maybe the reader gets him into manga?) so they get along well?

A/N: Such a sweet idea! I've always wanted to write for an olderbrother!Jason. I really hope you like it dude! Masterlist

You were made known to him after his resurrection. A half-sister, born to the same filthy blood as him. Tracking you down was difficult but Jason found himself desperately committed to your discovery. When he finally found your address, Jason already recognized how similar you would be to him as he watched you blend and weave through the density of Gothams infrastructure. He sighed under the domino mask, watching you duck under a chain-link fence, disappearing from his line of sight.

When you slide back under the rusted metal, having successfully fed the family of stray cats that lived behind the abandoned chevy, the sun had just disappeared behind Gothams wall of skyscrapers. And he was there, his sturdy figure flicking in and out of illumination as the car headlights passed behind him.

The sleek red of the domino mask and the bat on his chest didn't give anything away as to who was standing in front of you. You stumbled backwards, an exhale of cold air catching in your throat as your back hit the fence. Awkwardly raising your hands up beside your head, already shaking, you didn't take your eyes off of him. 'L-Look man... whatever you think I did.. I promise you've got it wrong... I-I was just.. just' Even your voice carried the same street-given cadence as him.

He stepped forward with caution, holding a gloved hand out in front of him, trying to signal no threat. 'Your mother Catherine Todd?' You nodded, disturbed at how guttural the Red Hoods voice sounded through the obvious distortion. The annoying prick of confusion made it's way up your neck. Did dad got caught stealing cigarettes again? Is the Red Hood gunna kill me.. like as revenge or some shit? Fuck- what the hell is happening?

Jason brought his hands to the side of his mask, clicking the release buttons. The metal lifted from his skin with a hiss. The cold air hit his face as his naked eyes met yours. Your obvious shock stung like the cold Gotham air stinging his warmed skin. 'I guess we have something in common then' He chuckled, kicking the heel of his boot against the concrete. Your hands lowered to your sides, breath clouding up in front of your face. His eyes.. they were deep, even in the dank lighting of the ally your could see their infinite quality. His jet-black hair was the same as yours, only differentiated by the stark white streak falling over his forehead. The sharp swoop of his jaw, and the forwardness of his cheekbones, it was like looking in a mirror. Was this how everyone else saw you? Desperately intriguing, like an old book waiting to be read.

'What the fuck is that supposed mean?' You spat, bracing your body for the possibility of needing to sprint. He came closer, his face appearing to twist in the familiarity of guilt. The metal of the fence dug into your back, every muscle tightening in the expectation of a punch or your arms getting shoved behind your back.

Jason's hand found it's way to your cheek, freezing you in place. The rough fabric of his gloves scratched your skin as his thumb brushed over your cheek. The distant warmth hidden under the fabric disappearing under your chilled skin, your fearful gaze now tied to his. You could see the glimmer of tears gather in his mournful eyes as he smile. 'You've got her eyes'

That was a two years ago now. When your brother found you and made it known of his want to be in your life. Two years ago before you started living with him. Before you would mold Jason's heart into loving you as his baby sister.

It was the strenuous and aggravating learning curve at first. Understanding how to be an older brother to someone as explosively emotional as him. You would rile each others frustration as easily as fire consumes a dead log.

While his teeth were blunt from years of biting the metal of his mental cages, yours were still sharp and desperate to sink into the world. It was hard for him to dull that fury in you. Anger at the world, at your parents for keeping Jasons existence from you, anger at him for not coming sooner. Fortunately for the both of you, Jason had a pretty good older brother to look up too and emulate.

Dick is the first one in the family to know about your existence. Jason called him, frustrated at himself for seemingly not being able to connect with you the way he wanted. His job as the Red Hood didn't stop because of you now living with him and he was finding it difficult to carve out time to spend with you let alone present himself as a dedicated older brother. 'Ok.. How about I cover your patrol route tonight and you take her to that bookstore cafe thing down on fifth?' 'But what if she doesn't like that kinda thing?' 'So ask her what she likes.. and buy her a muffin while your at it. Jason... this thing is gunna be hard, but your doing everything supposed too. But if you really wanna show this kid that she can trust you, you need to give it a lot of time' Dick said as Jason paced between the kitchen sink and the living room couch. 'You sound like you've done this before' Jason quipped, tugging at the roots of his hair with his elbows leaning on the kitchen island. 'I have.. six times at this point'

You hurried off in front of Jason before the store door could shut behind him. He soon found you frantically tracing the shelves of the comic section until you pulled out a volume he didn't recognize. But seeing your face alight with joy, your dimples pinching your cheeks the same way his did, it was hard for him not to smile. It didn't take long for you to start rambling about the story. He wished he had a notepad of some kind so he could write all this down to remember for the birthdays he hoped to spend with you. You both walked the aisles lazily, Jason pulled a few books himself to explain and recommend. You smiled at his consideration of your presence, excited that someone was showing this kind of care and interest. You both left with a decently heftily stack, excitedly talking about which ones you were going to read first. And in that moment, a spark was struck within both of you. A precursor to the furiously powerful flame of your love for each other.

Jason felt ever inch of him burn with pride and emotion when thinking about the importance of taking care of you. And you felt ever bit of relief knowing that there was finally someone you could trust innately.

And while even though you now shared in this trust and pride, your differences is what made Jason truly proud to be your brother. You slowly morphed his dark and rather bland apartment into a wonderful blend of colour. Your personality slowly revealing itself to Jason you both worked to paint your bedroom a lovely pastel yellow. Eventually ending in you guys flicking paint at each other.

Jason learned how easy it was to smile when he was with you. Pride bloomed warmly in his chest when he compared himself to you when he was your age. You were so much smarter and brighter than he was. And he was eager, almost excited to make sure that constant brightness you had was kept safe and secure.

Jason knew that his job would make your life hard by association. So as much as it hurt his ego, he had to call up Bruce and ask if it was ok for you to stay the night at the manor while he helped out Dick in Bludhaven.

Your introduction to your brothers adoptive family only made you even more excitable. And with Jason asking Bruce to set you up in Gotham High with Tim, Cass, and Steph, your 'sister' label was suddenly not just for Jason to claim.

Tim and Cass specifically thought how funny it was that both of you came from the same parents yet could be so different in presentation. Jason darkening of doorways was suddenly impossible when you appeared by his side - your arms full of Tupperware containers filled with treats you had baked the night before, eager to hand out to everyone.

You loved the rest of the family, of course you did. But it was always Jason you would return too at the end of the day. Always him that you would come running too first.

Jason never expected in his second life to become an older sibling, to you or to anyone else in the family. The blood bond you shared was deeper and more emotionally sacred than anything he could have imagined. The care he had for you was so strong and potent, he felt the tug of warmth at the ring of your laugh because of something stupid he said.

He found you and carved out a little pocket of safety for both of you to exist within. He wouldn't let the fear and the horror of his world ever touch your intensely precious nature.

39 notes · View notes

kingkaizen · 22 hours ago

Note

Hello!! <3 I was wondering you can do Blue Lock x Kid! Reader? (Fluff), reader is about 10-11 years old

The plot is basically the blue lock allows children inside to train to become the next generation of Japanese soccer, reader is in the Bastard Munchen team for blue lock and then while reader is walking with some members of Bastard Munchen (specifically Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Yukimiya) to the cafeteria when suddenly they bump into a staff member which so happens to be reader’s biological dad. The dad is like “Oh hey there, sweet thing!” while reader is basically uncomfortable with their biological dad. Why? It’s because when reader was younger their dad would never take care of them and would sometimes lash out of them, which makes reader see him more of a stranger than a father. Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Yukimiya is like “back off bitch” because reader is CLEARLY uncomfortable with him. The dad does back off but sometime later in the locker rooms (all bastard Munchen members have clothes on) all of bastard Munchen are hanging out there when the dad goes into the locker room. Reader is now “fuck this shit I’m out” and hides behind one of members. All of them are like “Bro, LEAVE THEM BE” and when the dad says no, Noa gets involved with it and kicks him out. They basically now check up on reader and the rest is yours.

BRO I AM SO SORRY FOR COMPLICATING PLOTS 😭😭😭

— 💜 Anon (I would like to be anon please!)

∘ a/n: hiii 💜 anon, ty for this request. before you read, i do want to say that i did change some things up about your initial request just to make it more comfortable for me to write and make more sense in my head (although it doesn't change the overall meaning of your request). the reader is assumed to be around the same age as them and is a manager on the team. i hope you still enjoy <3

∘ ft: isagi, kaiser, ness, + kenyu

∘ includes: sfw, mentions of strained parental relationship

The halls of the Bastard München training facility buzzed with energy as you walked alongside Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Kenyu, a clipboard in hand. You’ve been keeping track of the teams’ statistics throughout the practice, which will be used in drills later on. The sharp scent of freshly cleaned floors mingled with the faint tang of sweat lingering from their practice session. The team was in high spirits, their camaraderie evident in the banter bouncing between them.

“You couldn’t score even if the net begged you to,” Kaiser quipped, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he nudged Isagi’s shoulder.

“Maybe if you stopped playing and actually passed, we’d score double,” Isagi shot back, rolling his eyes.

“Calm down, both of you,” Yukimiya interjected, chuckling softly. “Save the arguing for tomorrow’s match.”

You laughed lightly, the sound blending into the easy rhythm of the group’s conversation. But the laughter died in your throat when you turned a corner and nearly collided with someone—a man whose presence felt as cold and intrusive as you remembered.

“Hey there, sweet thing!” The man’s voice was smooth, but it grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

You froze mid-step, stomach twisted into knots as you studied the man’s features. His scruffy beard, slightly wrinkled uniform, and overly familiar tone—all of it belonged to someone you’d long hoped to forget: your estranged father.

“What… what are you doing here?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the words thick with unease.

The man shrugged casually, ignoring the tension in their posture. “Got myself a job here. Thought I’d finally get a chance to see how you’re doing. You’ve grown so much.”

The others immediately noticed the way you shrank back, their expression going pale.

Kaiser’s sharp eyes darted between the man and you before stepping forward, his voice dripping with disdain. “Who the hell are you, and why are you bothering (y/n)?”

“I’m (y/n)’s father,” the man replied, puffing out his chest as if the title alone gave him authority. “Is there an issue?”

“Yeah, there is,” Kaiser snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ness stepped up beside him, his cold blue eyes narrowing. “(Y/n) clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. Take a hint and leave.”

Isagi and Yukimiya flanked you protectively, their presence reassuring yet firm. Isagi’s voice, though calmer than the others, carried an undeniable edge. “If they wanted to talk to you, they would’ve reached out. You should leave.”

The man hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over at you. “We’ll talk later,” he muttered, his tone tinged with annoyance as he walked away.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, you released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your hands trembled, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“You okay?” Isagi asked softly, his gaze steady and concerned.

“I… Yeah,” you replied shakily, though the lie was evident in your voice.

The group exchanged worried glances but chose not to press further, instead walking silently toward the cafeteria.

…

The locker room was a sanctuary after grueling training sessions. The walls were lined with steel lockers, and the faint smell of detergent lingered in the air. After a quick meeting with the team, you decided to linger in the locker room with some of the guys from earlier. Perching yourself on one of the benches, you felt some of the earlier tension in your shoulders begin to relax.

Kaiser leaned back against a row of lockers, tossing a soccer ball into the air with practiced ease. “Bet I could score on Noa tomorrow,” he said with his trademark smirk.

“You couldn’t even score on me,” Ness teased, earning a snort of laughter from Yukimiya.

You smiled faintly, your earlier discomfort fading into the background as you soaked in the light-hearted banter. But, the fragile peace shattered when the locker room door swung open with a loud creak.

Your father strode in, his presence as unwelcome as a storm cloud. “There you are,” he said, his tone too casual for the situation.

You felt your breath hitch, panic flashing through your mind. Without thinking, you moved to stand behind Kaiser, clutching the back of his jersey like a lifeline. Memories of your childhood began to flood your brain, the constant screaming, words of hate spewing from his lips. You haven’t fully healed from all of the constant pain that you had to endure, and seeing the person who caused it right in front of you did nothing to help that fact.

Kaiser stiffened slightly, then turned, his face darkening with fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m just here to talk to my kid,” the man replied, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“They don’t want to talk to you,” Ness said coldly, stepping forward with an expression so sharp it could cut glass.

“Get out,” Yukimiya added, his calm tone carrying an unmistakable edge.

You peered out from behind Kaiser, hands trembling. The protective wall formed by the team was reassuring, but the man’s presence still sent your nerves spiraling.

“You’re not welcome here,” Isagi said firmly, stepping closer to the man.

“This is between me and my kid,” the man said, his voice rising in irritation. “Stay out of it.”

Before the tension could escalate further, the door opened again.

Noa’s imposing figure filled the doorway, his piercing gaze sweeping over the room. The team fell silent, and even the father seemed momentarily taken aback.

“What’s going on here?” Noa asked, his voice low and authoritative.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but Noa’s icy glare silenced him. “You don’t belong here. Leave. Now.”

The man tried to argue, but Noa’s tone turned even sharper. “This is your only warning. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security handle it. Don’t come back unless you’re prepared for consequences.”

The man’s face twisted with frustration, but he finally turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

The silence in the locker room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. You slowly sank onto the bench, chest heaving as you struggled to steady their breathing.

Kaiser crouched in front of you, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Hey, you’re safe now. He’s gone.”

Isagi knelt beside him, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with this alone. We’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Ness said, his usual sharp tone softening. “If he tries this again, he’ll regret it.”

Yukimiya offered a small, comforting smile. “We’re your team. No one gets to mess with you.”

Your vision blurred with tears, but their heart felt lighter than it had all day. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kaiser smirked, though his voice held genuine warmth. “Good thing you won’t have to find out.”

As the team resumed their lighthearted chatter, you realized they weren’t just teammates—they were family.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x reader #kenyu yukimiya x reader #kaiser x reader #ness x reader #💜 anon <3

36 notes · View notes