Brat || F!Yandere X F!Reader

First-Time Customer

In your time as a private escort that specialized in the rich and the famous, you learned that --despite you being the sugar baby in the relationship-- all your clients were looking to be babied in some way or form. They all wanted their ego stroked, among other things. But none more so than Ha-Joon.

You would think that, as the only child of the CEO of the QT Corporation, a Korean conglomerate, she would want for nothing. And, for the most part, she did. The only exception seemed to be companionship.

Which was fair. Celebrities tended to attract a lot of fake love. Yours, while easily bought, was at least honest. They paid and, in return, they got what they wanted, no strings attached.

Some of your clients asked you to abuse them while others wanted to be the ones to degrade you. Sometimes you got really outlandish requests to do things that you wouldn't even do to pay your bills.

That was the thing, though. They had to know what they wanted.

From the very beginning, Ha-Joon didn't.

You suspected, the first time she bought your services, she did so on a whim. She contacted you through your sugaring website, paid for a single hour and asked you to meet her in one of the backrooms of a nearby hotel restaurant and bar.

By the time you arrived, she was likely already a bit tipsy, sporting the classic Asian flush.

If you hadn't recognized her by her name, then you definitely would have by her face.

Her face was round and pale as a white pearl. Her cheeks were flushed as if pinched, her mouth pink as if bitten... She had a button nose and big black eyes, like a doll.

Her eye makeup looked like it had been professionally done. That cat eye eyeliner was sharp enough to kill a man. Her complexion looked flawless enough to be all cosmetics too, but no full-coverage foundation would let the two beauty marks on her left cheek show through.

She wore a number of pastel bows and barrettes in her hair, which was straight and blonde as freshly churned butter, falling down to her hips. When combined with her short stature and near-androgynous figure, these accessories made her look much younger than the nineteen years she claimed to be.

Her manner of dress was a confusing mismatch of maturity and youth, too. She wore a baby blue puff-sleeve blouse under a soft pink dress. You thought it had a weird sweetheart neckline but, upon closer inspection, you saw that the neckline was actually supposed to resemble cat ears.

The hemline was short, made even shorter by the white petticoat she wore underneath. She paired it with white garter stockings. It looked more like a sexy Halloween costume than an outfit you would wear out on a normal night.

No high heels. Only a pair of pastel platform sneakers.

Unusual, to say the least.

"Hello there," you said as you walked in the room. You were wearing a halter-neck minidress in your favorite color, with no underwear whatsoever underneath, for easy access. "Are you Ha-Joon?"

She gaped at you, opening and closing her mouth for the longest time, before eventually blurting out, "Uh, yeah. You must be--"

You stepped forward, reaching out one of your hands. "Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you."

After a moment of hesitation, she reached out to grasp your offered hand. Her palms were mad sweaty and she was practically vibrating with anxiety, but that wasn't uncommon in first-time customers.

A handshake seemed too impersonal for someone in your profession, so instead you bowed forward to press a kiss to her knuckles. Ha-Joon audibly swallowed.

"You're even prettier in person than your photo on the website," she murmured, so low that you wondered if you were even supposed to hear it.

"You're too kind," you purred. "Do you mind if I sit down?" At her timid nod, you slid into the booth next to her rather than take a seat at the chair opposite. Her gaze remained fixed on you the entire time, like you were a predator closing in.

"I-- I don't know how these things usually go."

"Typically a client takes me somewhere as their date, after which we have sex. It can be as kinky or as vanilla as you want. I won't judge you or tell anyone."

"I don't want that. At least, not tonight."

"What do you want then?" You kept your tone low and patient. Under the table, your thigh shifted to press up against hers. She shuddered at the sensation.

"Can we go slow? Maybe just make out a bit?" Ha-Joon asked.

"Of course. We can go at whatever pace you feel the most comfortable."

The two of you ended up necking like teenagers for the entire hour. It was obvious from the get-go that she was either inexperienced or extremely out of practice. She started off kissing like a golden retriever, wet and sloppy and overenthusiastic. But you led by example, and soon she was picking up a few tips.

She was also as tightly wound as an unsprung spring at first. But you found, when you scratched the back of her scalp, right under the curve of her skull, she relaxed like a marionette with all her strings cut.

You didn't do much. But, when your phone finally dinged, letting you know time was up, she started to paw and pout at you. "Another hour," she demanded.

You hummed patiently. "You'll have to pay for that first," you told her. Clients could spend your time however they wished, but only so long as you got paid. "Same Venmo as before."

Then you watched as Ha-Joon took out her phone with shaky hands and tapped on it a little while. A few seconds later, you got a notification of the deposit on your phone.

But when you leaned in for another kiss, she stopped you, put a hand on your shoulder and pushed you away. "Wait! You'll do anything I want, right?"

"Yes, that's right." There were exceptions, of course, things that cost extra, but you'd bring those up depending on her request.

"Could you-- Could you praise me?"

Yeah, you could do that.

You cupped her face in your hands, looked at her like she was your entire world, and said, "Good girl. You're doing such a good job. I'm so proud of you," in the most sincere, saccharine voice you could muster.

Her eyes went wide and glossy, and she melted in your hands like hot butter. Then she lurched forward into your arms, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

Gotcha, you thought, your smile transforming into a smirk now that your expression was no longer under scrutiny. Hook, line, and sinker.