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ghoulishhx · 2 days ago

Note

um so i was the one who requested frank x switch!reader and JESUS CHRIST im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

i would love perhaps a part two? 🤭🤭

(ps, calling frank a good boy???? is all i need in life. yes ma’am thats my good boy right there without a doubt)

EHEHEHE I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME OH MY GODDDD

ok this may not be for everyone, idk how the general frank fanfic enjoyer feels about kindaaq subby!frank but im giving the people (me) what they (i) want. enjoy this absolute self indulgent smutfest!!

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: a big steaming pile of smut, switch!afabreader, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v sex (no creampies in this but still don't do this irl), dirty talk, praise, use of restraints, choking

Tags: had some help with dialogue from my wife @carbonfiction , also my other wives @nogoodbee and @yur1addict were along for the ride

Wordcount: 2.1k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ use your words

“You trust me, right Frankie?” you whisper into your boyfriend’s ear as you wrap your arms around his neck, peppering kisses along his jawline, trailing to his neck and chest. Your innocent, doe-like demeanor as you bat your eyelashes at him makes a groan hitch in his throat.

“Depends on what’s runnin’ through that pretty lil head, sweet girl.” he growls, wrapping his fingers in your hair, tugging softly eliciting gasps from you.

Your arms run down his body and stop at his belt, his jeans the only item of clothing between you and ecstasy. Your mind fixates on the leather hoisting the garment around his waist. Your fingers toy with the material, running your fingers along his waistband.

He raises his eyebrow at your fixation, confused at where you’re going with this.

“You’ll like it Frank, don’t worry.” you mumble as you push him onto the bed, straddling him as you begin unbuckling his belt.

“Doll, what are ya-”

“Shh Frankie.. Lemme make you feel good, okay? Lemme have my fun with you.” you kiss his neck as you unsheathe the belt from his denims. You push your fingers through his belt loops, pulling him closer to you briefly, before you push him down onto his back. You begin running your hand across his prominent bulge, palming him through the fabric as he groans. “Lemme take what I want,” you coo as you grind your desperate core into his thigh, “Take what I need.”

You use your hands to grab his larger ones, pushing them together as you wrap his belt around his wrists. He opens his mouth to protest, but you stop him with a grin.

“You want me to feel good, right Frankie?” you tilt your head to the side with a mischievous glint in your eyes, pouting at him.

“Kinda question is that doll, course I do,” no matter how hard he tries, he can’t say no to you, especially with that pout on your face. “Just confused s’all..”

“Nothin’ to be confused about Frankie, I know what I’m doin’.” you wink as you continue tightening the leather, bounding him tight as you raise your handiwork to your face, kissing his knuckles as you bend over him, pushing his hands above his head. His eyes don’t leave you as you do this, watching intently as his breathing intensifies. The action rubs his bulge deliciously into your sex, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Shit.. so fucking hard for me baby.. So handsome.” you coo as you place your lips on his forehead before sitting back up. The sight before you makes your clit throb, Frank Castle, the fucking Punisher, bound beneath you and enjoying it.

He can't help but blush at your words, trying his hardest to be nonchalant and fight his body's reaction to you taking power. You push down your hips into his, eliciting groans from him at the sensation, you bite your lip to subdue whimpers from escaping your mouth.

You can't help but giggle as you slip down from him, removing your clothes slowly until you're bra-less and only wearing a lacy thong. His favourite. It takes every bit of self restraint for Frank to not tear his way out of his restraints and feel your body, run his calloused fingers across each of your curves, tasting every inch of you with his tongue, but he's intent on allowing you to continue. Allowing you to take what you need, trusting you to do whatever you want.

You play with your breasts in front of him as you smirk, watching his cheeks flush from need. The effect you're having on him floods your panties as you tug and twist at your pebbled nipples.

“So fuckin’ beautiful baby.. shit” he darkly groans, his cock twitching in his jeans. Placing your hands on the waistband, you tug them off and allow the clothes to pool at his feet. Your eyes lock onto his dick, straining against the fabric of his underwear, leaking into the cotton.

Your fingers begin stroking his member, tracing his prominent veins and frenulum teasingly, your touch so soft it's barely there. However Frank being as aroused as he was, it felt like heaven. He can't help but buck his hips into your touch, chasing friction.

“My eager boy, shh baby tell me what you want.” you coo, retracting your hand from his sex, trailing your nails along his bare thighs, making Frank shudder at the feeling. He groans at the loss of contact. “Use your words baby.”

“Shit don’t make me beg, doll.. Fuck..” he mumbles, tugging at his wrists, rutting his hips into the air desperately.

“Use your manners Frankie..” you taunt, pulling your thong to the side as you hover above his length. “Isn’t that what you always tell me, hmm? Say please baby and I'll give you what you want.”

His jaw tightens, realising this little game you’re playing, you completely switching the power dynamic on its head. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you push his leaking red tip between your folds, grinding on him, pushing him between your swollen lips. His cock collects your slick as your juices mix together, his precum intertwining with your wetness. His head thrusts deliciously over your bundle of nerves. You can’t help but moan around his length, desperate to fuck yourself on him but enjoying having complete power over him that much more.

“Gonna be polite f’me baby? Gonna use your words?” you lean down, pressing your lips along his jawline, licking stripes along his skin. Your touch is borderline overwhelming, Frank is utterly helpless, unable to feel your soft, plush skin with his calloused hands. His desperation is unwavering, he can no longer subdue the whimpers threatening to escape his throat. Your cunt just feels too good enveloping his cock.

“P-please.. Please baby, I-I need ya. Need ya so bad.” Frank gives in, his desire consuming him as you grin inches from his face.

“That wasn’t so hard was it Frankie? My good boy, I’ll give you what you need, baby.” you croon, leaning back as you wrap your right hand around his neck, pushing his length inside of you with your left. Your jaw falls slack as he fully sheathes himself inside of you, filling you to the brim. Frank needily starts thrusting his hips into you, chasing the pleasure he’s so desperately craving. You tighten your grip around his neck, eliciting a growl from his throat.

“Eager tonight aren’t we?” you laugh, halting his movements. You relish in the way he pants beneath you, chest heaving from being denied the pleasure he needs. “I wanna take my time with you, is that ok?” you place a kiss on his forehead as you begin gently rocking your hips. You throw your head back, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you bite down, your thumb rubbing comforting circles on Frank’s throat as you run your free hand down his chest, inching towards your needy clit.

“Fuck doll, ‘m not gonna last much longer.. Y-you feel too good..” his back lightly arches from the bed, tensing as he feels his orgasm quickly approaching.

“Mhm, the feeling’s mutual Frankie.” your pace quickens as you bounce up and down on his length, rubbing harsh circles around your bundle of nerves, swirling your slick across your pussy. “Fillin’ me up so good, such a good boy f’me.” you whine as his tip nudges your spongy spot. “Lemme have it Frankie, cum for me. Fill me up baby.”

Your permission sends jolts of electricity up his spine, he’s so close to ecstasy. He starts rutting his hips up to match your pace, his movements relentless.

“Just like that baby, fuck don’t sto-”

Silence. Your motion comes to a complete standstill as you pull yourself off of his cock in a rapid motion.

You can’t help but allow a mischievous grin to smother your face as you watch Frank whine at the loss of pleasure, his orgasm denied, cock and balls twitching hopelessly.

“Fuckin’ hell babygirl, I was so fuckin’ close, what the-”

“Shh Frankie, ‘m not done with you yet.” you trail your hands across his body as you kneel before him between his thick thighs, back arched and ass up as you come face to face with his purplish tip. His dick is covered in a sweet mixture of your fluids, you can’t help but drool as you playfully run your tongue from his balls to his mushroom head.

Frank’s whole body jerks beneath you, the overstimulation from being so severely edged stunning him. His hands are still bound above his head, despite how much he wanted to break free and wrap his fingers in your hair, he loved how much you were enjoying being in control, so he kept his wrists there and he’d be damned to try and break free. Anything for his girl.

“You taste so fucking good Frankie, filling my mouth already with just your precum.” you softly speak as you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock. The noise that erupts from Frank’s mouth is primal, groaning louder than ever before. You can’t help but smile around his length, your effect on him is dizzying.

It’s not long before Frank’s impending orgasm, the pace of which he bucks his hips into your mouth faltering as he releases breathy moans of your name.

But you’re not done yet.

You remove your mouth from his cock, much to Frank’s disarray. He growls as his cock throbs and twitches impossibly harder, begging to cum, begging to spill his seed down your throat.

“Tell me what you want Frankie.” your eyes glint as you match his needy gaze, his iris�� non existent as his pupils are so lust blown.

“Fuck.. I- I need-” Frank babbles, so out of character for him.

“Shh shh shh.. Deep breaths, baby. Use your words. You wanna cum, huh? Fill my mouth Frank? Make me yours?” you coo, resting your cheek on one hand propped up by your elbow, the other running your nails across his tensed thighs. “Who do you belong to, hmm?” you test the waters with your final question, wondering if he would fully submit.

“Y-yes.. Fuck babydoll please.. I need to cum.. Shit I belong to you, o-only you.” his reaction stuns you, not once in your entire relationship did you expect to hear such submissive words from your boyfriend, the Punisher.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely baby, my good boy.. you can cum.” you hum appreciatively, resuming your movements, bobbing your head up and down his cock hastily.

Within seconds he spills down your throat, followed by a string of curse words, thank yous and your name all in between moans. You wanted him to fill your mouth, and my god that is what you got. Your mouth gets flooded by his hot, sticky release and you swallow every drop gleefully.

You finally pull yourself from his softening cock with an exaggerated pop of your mouth. His whole body jerks from overstimulation, and you can’t help but giggle as you reach above him to finally remove his restraints.

He takes his wrists in front of his face and rubs them dramatically as if he were a convict just released, pulling you into his embrace as you pepper kisses across his face and chest.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, didn’t know you were hidin’ that from me.” he chuckles darkly into your hair.

“Was it okay, Frankie? Did you enjoy it?” you meet his adoring gaze, blushing at the feeling of his vulnerable eyes bearing deep into your soul.

“Enjoy it? You kiddin’ me, sweetheart? Fucking loved watchin you up there." he hypes you up as he places kisses along your forehead, still pussydrunk as fuck. "Know how good you looked, takin’ control like that? Fuckin angelic." you sigh as you sink into his arms, grateful you could explore your more dominant side with him.

“Mhm, I’m glad baby.” you hum into his chest, “I’ll dust off the strap for next time.”

“Yeah not happenin’ doll, not in a million years.” the room fills with an eruption of laughter from your both, completely at bliss in each other's company.

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a/n: the gif was too perfect to not use. i love you frank castle please let me chain you up. i also wanna make it clear in my own personal headcanon, frank isnt the biggest fan of tying you up, loving you too much to potentially make you uncomfortable, but if you wanted to tie him up.. he would be damned if he didnt give his girl what she wanted. thank you for indulging me, i love you

my inbox is open!

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monicfever · 15 hours ago

Text

you were the villain all along 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher cast hcs

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

at first he doesn’t believe it.

he hears the proof. feels the evidence stacking against you. foggy tells him. karen warns him. but he defends you. “you don’t know them like I do.”

because he knows your heartbeat. the way you say his name. he knows the way your lips quiver when you say I love you. you couldn’t be lying. right?

then you confess.

maybe you didn’t mean to. maybe it was an accident. or maybe you knew you were cornered, and all that venom finally spilled out. you say, “I never wanted to hurt you.” and matt goes still. quiet. like the breath’s been ripped from his lungs. the heartbreak doesn’t hit him all at once. It sinks. like poison in holy water.

he tries to breathe through it, tries to make sense of it. but your voice — your voice, the voice he clung to like salvation — is suddenly untrustworthy. and it breaks him in places he didn’t know could shatter.

he stops sleeping. doesn’t answer calls. doesn't go to work. he spends entire nights on rooftops listening for you. hoping for something. anything.

if he hears your voice again — if he catches the rhythm of your heartbeat — maybe he’ll understand. maybe he’ll finally know why.

when he does see you again, his mask is off. he wants you to see what you did. his hands are clenched. his jaw is locked. he doesn’t yell — he’s past yelling. he just asks, “was any of it real?”

the silence that follows destroys him more than any blade ever could.

he can’t stop loving you. that’s the worst part. even knowing what you did. even knowing you used him. lied to him. worked against him. there’s a piece of him — small and stupid and so human — that still hopes there’s a version of this story where you come back.

his catholic guilt becomes unbearable. how could he not have known? he’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen — but he couldn’t even sense the devil in his own bed.

he questions every instinct. every choice. every whisper of god’s will he thought he understood.

he tells himself he would stop you if he had to. that if it came down to it, if you were hurting people — he’d do what had to be done. but the truth? it it were you and the world on opposite ends of a scale, he’d hesitate.

he’d hesitate long enough to burn.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

he knew something was off. he didn’t say it. didn’t push. but he saw the cracks — the quiet you couldn’t cover, the things you didn’t say. and still, he trusted you.

after everything, after all of it, you were the one person he thought was safe to believe in.

when he finds out, he doesn’t react at first. no yelling. no rage. just a quiet sort of stillness that’s so much worse. his eyes go flat. his hands stop moving.

and you know, immediately, that something in him just broke. he walks away. that’s how you know it’s bad.

frank castle doesn’t walk away from a fight. but you? you weren’t a fight. you were home. and now he doesn’t even know what he’s walking away from. or who.

later, when he's alone, that’s when it hits. not with anger. with grief. he sits in the dark, gun on the table, your name echoing in his head like a ghost that won’t shut up. “how much of it was real?” he won’t say it out loud, but he’s thinking it. over and over. like a prayer gone rotten.

he looks for reasons. for excuses. goes back over every word you ever said. every moment you touched him. every time you swore you loved him.

he wants to find something that makes it make sense. but he doesn’t. you lied.

when he sees you again, it’s not violence. it’s heartbreak dressed like indifference. he won’t shoot. he won’t shout. he just looks at you like you already killed him. maybe you did.

he says, “you shoulda just told me.” low. rough. final. because that’s the thing about frank — he can survive anything except being lied to by someone he gave his heart to.

he could’ve forgiven you. if you’d just told him. but you didn’t.

he won’t come after you. not unless you give him a reason. but you’ll never be able to get close again. he’ll know. he’ll see it coming.

and that version of him — the soft one, the trusting one, the one that kissed you like you were all that was left of the good in this world? he’s gone.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

he doesn’t get angry at first. not really. just confused. you? you did this? no. no way. not you. not the person who laughed at his dumb jokes and ate his takeout leftovers and kissed him like you meant it.

but then the evidence is there. undeniable. and he starts putting the pieces together. you were late that night. you lied about that meeting. you asked a lot of questions about that case, didn’t you?

and every single memory turns into a weapon. every moment of love — sharpened into something that cuts.

he confronts you. he has to. that’s who he is — still trying to believe the best, even when he shouldn’t.

and you don’t deny it. you don’t even flinch. you just say something like, “yeah, and?” and that destroys him more than anything else.

he doesn’t cry in front of you. he holds it together. he just stares at you like he’s seeing someone else. like he’s trying to find the version of you he loved under all the lies, and they’re just... gone.

he whispers, “was it all fake?” and when you shrug? it’s like you spat on everything he ever gave you.

foggy’s heartbreak is the quiet kind. he won’t get revenge. won’t lose control. he just hurts, and tries not to show it.

goes to work. smiles for karen. checks in on matt. but his spark? the thing that made him foggy? it’s dimmer now. a little less bright. he spends a long time wondering what the hell he missed. was he too trusting? too soft? did he make it too easy to be used?

he hates that he’s still thinking about you. hates that part of him wants to know why. he doesn’t hate you. that’s the worst part. he should.

but every time he sees your name on paper, or hears about what you’re doing now — he just feels this hollow ache. like something was stolen and never returned. and the thief smiled while doing it.

he’ll never let anyone get that close again. not like you did. you were the person he thought was safe. and now he trusts no one with that part of himself.

if he ever sees you again, it’ll be quiet. no anger. no yelling. he’ll just look at you and say, “i hope it was worth it.” then walk away.

because forgiving you? not possible.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

she wants to believe it’s a mistake. at first, she does. she knows people are messy. she’s made mistakes too. but this? this isn’t a mistake. this is intentional.

and the second she realizes you’re not sorry — that you meant it — her chest goes hollow.

she doesn’t confront you right away. she waits. watches. gathers everything she can. she wants the truth — the full picture; but with every detail she uncovers, it gets harder to breathe.

you were always ten steps ahead. you had her wrapped around your finger. and she never saw it. when she finally does face you, her voice is low. when you give her that cold, indifferent shrug like you never cared at all — her heart cracks so clean it doesn’t even bleed.

she doesn’t cry in front of you. she won’t give you that. but she almost does. her throat burns. her fists clench. she loved you. and you looked her dead in the eye while you ruined everything.

for a while, she tries to make sense of it. sits alone with a bottle and her notes and the pieces of your story scattered on the floor.

she writes it all down. reads it back like it’s someone else’s tragedy. because that’s the only way it makes sense — as fiction. the version where she’s just another name in your file.

karen is so good at carrying pain without showing it. but this left something jagged in her. she starts questioning her instincts. doubting herself. how could she not have seen you coming?

she doesn’t want revenge. she wants distance. she wants to rebuild her walls. wants to make sure no one ever gets that close again — especially not someone with your smile.

but here’s the thing: karen doesn’t forget. you might be done. you might feel nothing. but she’ll always remember. the nights you stayed up late talking. the way you held her face when you kissed her. the way you made her feel safe when you were the danger the whole time. and that memory will rot in her like poison.

if she ever sees you again? she won’t flinch. she’ll look at you with steel in her spine and ice in her voice.

“i hope whatever you got out of it was worth losing me.” then she’ll walk away. because she might be broken, but she’ll be damned if she lets you see it.

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

she laughs when she finds out.

not because it’s funny. because it’s insane. you? the betrayal she didn’t see coming? she’s betrayed kings and slit throats without blinking — but you? you played her like she was just another fool.

she doesn’t spiral. she sharpens. everything gets colder. quieter. more precise. no more lingering looks. no more slow smiles. she goes dead behind the eyes.

because if she lets herself feel it, she’ll burn down the whole world with you in the center.

she confronts you with a grin and a dagger in her boot. leans in close like it’s still a game. like she’s still deciding whether to kiss you or kill you. “you played me. congratulations.”

but there’s something dark in her voice — something final. she may be chaos, but you crossed a line even she won’t come back from.

she doesn’t ask why. she doesn’t need to. villains don’t need reasons — and now that’s what you are to her. just another mask.

but later, when she’s alone, the cracks show. she’s not crying — she doesn’t do that. but her hands tremble when she takes off her gloves. she let you in. she let her guard down.

and you turned out to be the very thing she spent her life surviving.

she’s furious. but it’s not just at you — at herself. for falling for it. for falling for you. you didn’t even lie well. you didn’t need to. she wanted to believe you.

she starts dreaming about you. violent dreams. sweet dreams. sometimes you’re holding her. sometimes you’re bleeding out in her arms. she always wakes up angry. her mind still wants you — even if her heart’s gone numb.

if she ever sees you again, she won’t flinch. she’ll smirk. tilt her head. maybe even say, “miss me?” but underneath it? that’s a woman who almost loved you. and now she has to live with that. and so do you.

and god help you if you try to come back. elektra doesn't do second chances. not for liars. not for traitors. and never for someone who looked her in the eye while twisting the knife.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

he finds out slowly, because he didn’t want to believe it.

he made excuses. ignored the signs. you were the one thing that made him feel normal. now you’re the one who lit the match.

when it clicks — really, fully clicks — he doesn’t react. not on the outside. inside everything in him goes dead quiet. no thoughts. no breath. just a long, stretching silence like the second before a sniper fires.

he stares at the wall for hours. gun in his hand. your name in his mouth like a prayer he can’t finish. he whispers it over and over. like he’s trying to summon the version of you that didn’t do this. but you don’t show.

when he sees you again, he’s smiling. way too calm. it’s the smile he uses right before something goes very bad. leans in close, voice low, soft, surgical: “you made me love you. was that the plan?”

and when you just smirk, when you don’t even flinch — he feels something inside him snap.

he doesn’t kill you. not because he forgives you — but because death would be too easy. he wants you to know what you did. wants you to feel the weight of it every time you look at him and realize: you took something pure and sickened it.

he spirals in silence. stops sleeping. starts stalking. he watches you — just to understand. to figure out how the person who kissed his scars turned out to be the one who made them deeper.

he talks to you like you’re still there. alone in his apartment, pacing, whispering things like, “you said you needed me. was that a lie too?” / “i would’ve done anything for you.” his voice breaks around the edges, but he keeps going.

pretending you loved him is easier than accepting the truth.

you broke ben poindexter. not with violence. not with cruelty. with apathy. with calm. with the way you walked away like his heart meant nothing.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

when he finds out, it’s not explosive. it’s silent.

like the breath right before impact. the sky before a storm.

he sits there, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable, and says: “wow.” then nothing. he’s calculating. already rewriting the story in his head. already deciding what to do with you.

he does not take betrayal lightly.

he built himself to survive it. but this is different. this is you. the one person he chose to keep. and you turned out to be just another knife in his back — one he let in willingly.

after that, trust? gone. with everyone. you made him worse. paranoid. vicious. now every glance is a threat. every favour is a setup. he double-checks everything. even people he’s known for years feel like liabilities now, because if you could get that close, anyone can.

and yeah, he gets manipulative. he doesn’t come for you with fists — not right away. he plays it smarter.

talks to people around you. twists the narrative. makes you look unstable. lets the world turn on you before he ever does.

when he finally does see you again, it’s… chilling. you expect rage. what you get is worse. a calm, cruel smile. a slow, measured voice. “i should’ve known. you were always too good at pretending.” and if you shrug — if you say something cold or clever — his eyes go flat.

and in that moment, he decides: he’s not going to forget. he’s not going to heal. he’s going to outlive this. he’s going to make sure you never forget what you lost.

he won’t hurt you directly. he wants you to unravel. wants you looking over your shoulder. wants you unsure of what he’s going to do. that’s how he keeps power. and billy russo? he doesn’t lose. especially not to someone he loved.

but deep down — under all that anger, all that pride — there’s still a part of him that misses you. and that’s what he hates the most. because you don’t miss him. you walked away without flinching and that kills him.

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

her initial reaction to discovering your betrayal isn’t one of immediate rage. there’s an unsettling stillness. her mind immediately begins to work, organizing everything she knows, processing it in the coldest, most efficient way possible. she goes silent, almost unrecognizable, as she quietly assembles her plans.

the first words she says to you are cold: “I never thought it would be you.” It’s not a question. It’s a fact.

her first instinct is to understand exactly how you betrayed her, why you did it, and what your end goal was. she examines her relationship with you, retracing every word, every gesture, to find the subtle cracks she missed.

she doesn’t rush into confrontation. she’s far too sharp for that. instead, she waits—watching you, watching others, trying to gauge who might be involved and what her next move should be. she’s an investigator at heart, and she’ll use every tool at her disposal to make sure she knows everything before she acts.

she immediately cuts herself off emotionally. she might physically distance herself from the people involved in the betrayal, or retreat into work. she’s someone who operates best when she’s in control, and she knows that feeling emotions right now will only make her vulnerable. she closes off to everyone, becoming all business, no personal connection. her vulnerability is gone; she’ll never allow herself to feel that way again, not after this.

rather than directly confronting you, she takes a more indirect approach. reaching out to mutual acquaintances or anyone who might know something useful. she subtly steers conversations to extract information about you, seeing if anyone else is part of the betrayal or if they have noticed anything strange. this approach ensures that by the time she does confront you, she has a full understanding of what’s at stake, who is involved, and how to turn things in her favor.

when she finally decides to confront you, it’s not a shouting match. dinah stands still, her face neutral, eyes piercing. her tone is cool, detached, like she’s discussing an uncomfortable subject, but not one that stirs her emotionally. “you should’ve known better,” she’ll say, as though the betrayal is an inconvenience more than anything personal. dinah doesn’t need to shout to make you understand: she’s in control now.

betrayal, for madani, isn’t just about pain—it’s about losing control. the moment you betray her, it’s a sign that things have slipped out of her grasp. she works meticulously to take back that control, but in her own quiet way. she may turn public opinion against you, let others see you as unstable, or slowly isolate you from people you trust.

if you hurt her professionally, she’ll hit you where it hurts, making sure your career, reputation, or standing with others suffers.

every word, every action is now questioned. she’s not just distant from you; she’s distant from everyone. she’ll let people get close, but only so close. there’s a wall between her and the rest of the world now, one that’s even harder to break down than before.

madani doesn’t forgive betrayal. she doesn’t forget it, either. once you cross her, it’s done. the door is closed, and there’s no going back. in her eyes, you chose to betray her — and that decision carries consequences. she’s not the type to let people get away with things like that.

over time, she might appear to let things go, but the truth is she’ll carry this with her for the rest of her life. it gnaws at her, a reminder that she can never fully trust again.

you broke her trust, and she’ll make sure that the consequences of that are felt long after she’s walked away from you.

started 4.20.2025. finished 4.23.2025.

( masterlist. )

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