Brat || F!Yandere X F!Reader

Poor Little Rich Girl

Despite your --ahem-- anticlimactic first meeting, Ha-Joon quickly made herself into your rotation of regulars.

More often than not, you didn't do more than make out a bit. The furthest you'd ever gotten was second base.

Still, the longest she'd ever stayed away was five days. At least twice a week, there was that bashful, breathless voice on the other end of your work cell.

She was hard to read at first, clamming up even when the two of you were the only ones in the room. It didn't offend you at all, though. Some of your clients were open books and wanted to talk, turn you into their therapist. Others were all business.

But she eventually opened up. And, when she did, it was like a dam had broken.

After her five-day absence, the first words out of her mouth were an apology. "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately." It was like she thought she owed you something more than payment for a service rendered. Or worse... She thought the two of you were more than just client and escort.

"It's alright," you cooed, reaching across the table to gently touch the back of her hand in reassurance. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Ha-Joon started to shake her head, before pausing. "You won't tell anyone?"

"Not a soul," you promised, with as much sincerity and sentimentality that you could muster. Discretion was part of your job description. "My lips are sealed."

"I'm in business school right now, studying to succeed my father as CEO of QT Corporation. We had midterm exams this week, and I don't know how I did."

"You're a smart girl, Ha-Joon. I'm sure you did fine."

"You think so?" She was all choked up, like she was trying to speak around a frog in her throat.

"I know so," you said in your best reassuring voice, the one you used when a client couldn't get it up even after an hour of foreplay. "Have you tried talking to your friends about how they felt about the exams?"

That was a mistake. If anything, Ha-Joon looked even more panicked than before. "I don't-- I don't really have any friends. Colleagues and acquaintances, sure. We're friendly sometimes, but we're not friends." She stopped long enough to gulp, seemed to gasp for air, before asking, in a soft murmur, "Can I ask you something?"

It was clear whatever question she asked would be more about her than you. You didn't reply with words, just gave her an encouraging smile and nodded to show you were listening. Often that was what clients wanted the most: someone to listen.

"Do girls like you, Y/N...? Because they're definitely not nice to me."

You tried to imagine anyone being openly rude to the heiress to QT Corporation and couldn't quite manage. Sure, Ha-Joon came across as someone that would be easy to bully, but who would dare try?

Your thoughts must have been written all over your face, because she continued manically, "I mean, they're not not nice. But they don't like me. The second I fuck up, they're the first ones to gang up on me. Sometimes, when I lie in bed at night, I go through every single thing I did and said that day and grade it: A for perfection, F for I should just kill myself already."

She followed that disturbing revelation with a hysterical little laugh.

"That sounds like anxiety, Ha-Joon," you tried to explain. "Really bad anxiety. You should talk to a psychiatrist and get a prescription for that, something to help you sleep maybe."

Sure, you sometimes doubled as a therapist, but you didn't have prescribing capabilities. If you did, you'd write a script for Viagra to every male client you had. Think of the money.

"Oh, I have, and I do," she answered. "I just don't like how my meds make me feel. It's... Eerie, how quiet and empty my head gets when I take them."

You were starting to piece together an understanding of Ha-Joon, based on everything you learned about her personally in addition to everything you read in the tabloids.

It must be lonely at the top. Perhaps she couldn't get close to anyone, couldn't admit her innermost thoughts and feelings to an equal, in fear that they would turn on her. If it got out that the future head of the QT Corporation was a lesbian? Imagine the backlash.

That's where you came in. She could explore her sexuality with you without the fear of you running off and telling anyone.

Poor little rich girl, you thought pitifully, giving her hand a sympathetic pat.

She peered into your face like it was a crystal ball. Whatever future she read from your expression did not satisfy her.

"Do you like me?" She asked.

Your answer came out quick and honest. "Of course I do," you all but scoffed. "I'm a freelancer of sorts, Ha-Joon. I don't have to meet with clients I don't like."

You had other clients, of course, but some of them were better than others. For example, several of your regulars liked to play rough... But a few too many were a bit too sincere when smacking you around, like they really did find you filthy and deserving of punishment.

And you were able to drop most of them when you started seeing Ha-Joon more often. She was a big tipper and reliable as clockwork.

Her face flushed bright red, and she clasped onto your hands like they were her only lifeline in a sea of uncertainty.

"I want to try something different today," she said, with more confidence than you suspected she really felt.

"Of course. Whatever you want."

"I want to try--" Her voice was a bit too loud and pitchy, like she was making a declaration to the hotel as a whole. She seemed to realize this and dropped her tone down to a low whisper. "M-- Making love..."

You bit your lower lip viciously to restrain yourself from laughing out loud. You hadn't made love once since you took this job. You did, however, fuck on a daily basis. Once you were one hundred percent certain you wouldn't dissolve into giggles the moment you opened your dumb mouth, you replied, "I'd love to play with you."