fem!caleb lets you suck on her boobs while you rant about every single annoying boy in your class, because of course she does.
she’s sprawled lazy and gorgeous underneath you, long brown hair fanning out across the pillow like spilled silk, wearing nothing but that flimsy camisole that’s already halfway to useless and a tiny thong that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide how soaked she’s getting. you’re straddling her hips, clinging to her like she’s your personal body pillow, face buried between her tits, arms wrapped tight around her waist.
“awww, what happened to my cute little meimei~?” she coos, voice all soft and syrupy, fingers gently brushing your hair back from your flushed face so she can see those pouty lips and watery eyes better.
you huff against her chest, lips dragging over the stiff peak of her nipple right through the thin fabric, teasing, mouthing at it until the material goes damp and clinging.
Caleb smirks, lets out a breathy little moan that vibrates straight through you. “go ahead, baby,” she murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “tell jiejie all about it while you’re at it~”
you don’t need to be told twice.
fingers hook into the neckline and yank it down in one impatient tug—her huge, soft boobs spill free, nipples already flushed dark and hard from your earlier attention. you latch onto one immediately, sucking hard, tongue swirling, while your other hand finds the neglected one, tweaking and rolling the bud between your fingers until she gasps.
“the boys in my class are so stupid,” you mumble around her nipple, words muffled and wet, sucking even harder like you’re trying to pull all your frustration out through her skin.
Caleb arches beautifully under you, back bowing off the bed, mouth falling open in a perfect, helpless little o. but her hand stays gentle at the back of your head, cradling you like you’re something precious.
“ohhh, is that so?” she hums, voice wrecked but still teasing, encouraging. “keep going, meimei. tell me.”
you switch sides with a needy whine, latching onto the other nipple now, teeth grazing just enough to make her hips jerk up. your fingers keep playing with the first one—pinching, tugging, rolling—while you talk around her.
“they’re always making stupid jokes… laughing at me… hnn—” you groan, biting down lightly, and Caleb chokes on a moan, thighs trembling, the crotch of her thong visibly darkening as she grinds up against nothing.
you keep spilling complaints between hungry sucks and bites, voice getting breathier, angrier, needier with every word. she just listens—humming, stroking your hair, rocking you gently while her own breathing turns ragged.
at some point you finally let go with a lewd, wet pop, spit stringing from your lips to her glistening nipple. you crawl up just enough to steal a sudden, pouty kiss from her mouth—still flushed and sulky and needy.
Caleb’s eyes flutter wide for half a second in surprise, then she melts, grinning huge and stupid-happy against your lips.
“oh meimei… such soft, cute lips,” she breathes, dazed and delighted. “kiss me again, baby~”
she pulls you back in before you can even answer.
this time the kiss is deeper, hungrier—tongues sliding together, wet and messy, little slick sounds filling the room as you make out like you’re trying to devour each other. her hands roam your back, your sides, eventually sliding down to grip your ass and grind you harder against her soaked thong.
when you finally break apart—both panting, strings of spit connecting your lips—she looks up at you with pure molten love in her eyes and the most satisfied, smug little grin.
her nipples are still rock-hard and shiny with your spit, chest heaving, hair a beautiful mess around her flushed face.
“boys are bad, meimei,” she whispers, voice hoarse and fond, hips rolling up slow and deliberate so you can feel exactly how wet you’ve made her. “you only need your jiejie.”
she pulls your head back down to her chest, guiding your mouth right back to her nipple like it’s where you belong.
“now keep sucking, baby… tell me more. jiejie’s listening.”
Synopsis: You're a loser. You have no job, don't have a degree, and you don't have a social life outside of your gaming profiles. You were content with your arrangement until a certain pop idol became infatuated with you.
PAIRING: Yuna Claire x GN!Reader.
WC: 1,569 words.
You always knew your life would take a turn one day. You didn’t expect it to be so... weird. So when the infamous pop idol Yuna Claire, yes, the Yuna Claire, decided to fall head over heels for you, an introverted loser with absolutely zero social skills, you figured there was no way this was real. Like, absolutely no way. This was either an elaborate prank, a marketing stunt, or you had accidentally crossed into a dimension where your life was now the plot of the world's most bizarre romcom. Either way, you weren’t buying it.
It all started with the flowers. You had just finished binge-watching a show you’d seen four times already (hey, it was comforting), when the doorbell rang. You dragged yourself out of bed, half-expecting it to be another one of those delivery mishaps where your neighbor gets your Amazon order. But no.
It was a delivery man with an enormous bouquet of roses that looked like something out of a cheesy romance movie. You squinted at the card attached: “To my love, with endless affection. –Yuna Claire <3.” Okay, you thought, “No way. This is a joke, right?” You looked around, half expecting some stupid prank influencer to come out with shitty cameras and yell, “You’ve been pranked!” But no. It was just you, the flowers, and the immense sense of something being very, very off.
You shrugged, placing the massive bouquet on the couch, then went back to your show. “Haha, okay. I get it. Very funny, Yuna. You’re really committed to this joke.” You chuckled to yourself as you clicked through to the next episode, completely oblivious to the fact that someone as famous as Yuna Claire could actually be serious about you.
Then came the chocolates, not your usual chocolate bar. No, these were gourmet chocolates that looked like they belonged in a five-star restaurant. You took one look at the perfectly decorated box and thought, Okay, now this is getting old.
The note inside read, “For you, darling, because you're the sweetest. With love, Yuna Claire <3.” You sighed dramatically.
"This has got to be a prank. It's gotta be. There’s no way a pop idol would send chocolates to a total loser like me." You took a bite anyway. They were sooo fucking good, too good, and you found yourself oddly comforted by the fact that a part of you, deep down, kind of wanted to believe it was real.
But then, it got worse, if that was possible.
You were lounging around in your room, doing the usual, scrolling through your phone in a half-conscious stupor, when you heard a knock at the door. You opened it, expecting maybe a pizza delivery or something equally mundane, but no again.
It was another gift. This time, a giant stuffed bear that was way too big for you to handle. This damn bear was so massive that you had to struggle to drag it inside like you were moving furniture. You stared at it in utter disbelief as it took up almost half of your living room. You rip the note stabled on the bear’s ears, mind reeling.
“I hope this brings a smile to your face, darling. Love, Yuna.”
You stared at the note. “This is a joke, right?” you mumbled to yourself, rubbing your eyes. “This has to be a joke.” You threw yourself onto the couch next to the bear and sighed, letting the absurdity of the situation wash over you.
You thought this had to be the end of it, or at least that this was the most this prankster was willing to go to, but no. You were slapped with the cold harsh reality of a notification coming through your phone, sighing, you wiggled it out of your cheeto dust covered pants and… Lo and behold, a fucking text from pop idol Yuna. Claire.
You gaped, reading the message over and over again trying to put the scrambled pieces of your mind together, This is getting too damn far!! You anxiously scratched at your head, oh my god… Maybe it’s that one guy I made fun of on twitter… Ahhh!!!
“##-####-###: Hello, my dear. This is my number, save it on your phone, beloved. How’s your day going? I was thinking about you today. Let me know if you need anything, even if it were the moon itself, though you’ll find you are my moon. Have a day as beautiful as you are. <3”
You froze. Nope. No way. This was the part where you’d laugh it off. The part where you’d text back something clever. "Haha, you're really funny, Yuna. But no thanks. I’m just chilling, being a loser in my room." But instead, you were staring at the message for way too long. The logical part of your brain screamed, “This is a scam! This is a joke! Wake up!” But the other part of you, the part that had been secretly hoping that someone like her would pay attention to you, felt a strange fluttering sensation in your chest.
But there’s the other part—you’re so creeped out right now! How the hell did they get your number?? No one other than your mom has it, and even then you barely call her! How did they know your address, why are they spending so much time and money on a stupid prank?! Were… Oh my god, are you being stalked right now?? You’re such a loser! There’s no way someone would even think of wasting their time on you.
You let out a scream of frustration as you snuggled onto a pillow, hair messy as you stare back at the glare of your phone.
You couldn’t bring yourself to respond immediately. Instead, you paced around your room, panicking. “What do I even say to them? What if they’re actually Yuna?! No! No way.”
The best way to find out everything you’ve been curious over was to send her a message back, whoever they are, you’re going to get to the bottom of this. You took a deep breath, hands trembling as you typed out a completely normal message,
“You: im ok thsnks for the gifts btw”
“You: also who r u”
You waited.
The reply came almost immediately.
“Yuna Claire: That’s great to hear, my love. Your joy is my own. It’s truly my pleasure to spoil someone so perfect, don’t worry. I’ve already told you who I am, your admirer Yuna Claire, if you’d like, I can send you a couple of tickets to my concert in a week, my world.”
You gasped. Your first instinct was to scream and run for the hills. You didn’t deserve to attend a Yuna Claire concert! You were a total loser, remember? But then it hit you. The real horror of the situation.
Yuna Claire is texting you. She knows your number, where you live, and she’s your admirer?! Hell no. This is such a bad lie.
“You: idk if ur beign srs… man dont lie ik ur not yuna claire put a spoon on ur head”
“##-###-#### sent you a video!”
“I’m quite offended, my dear, you don’t trust my pure intentions?” Holy shit, this is real??? She… huh. You stood there dumbfounded, unable to form a coherent sentence, you were so shocked you hadn’t noticed the fact that the background suspiciously looks a lot like your door.
She was being serious, this wasn’t some weird fan interaction. This wasn’t some bizarre publicity stunt. Yuna Claire, the pop idol of your dreams, was actually in love with you. The biggest star in the country was not only thinking about you, but also wanting to hang out with you. And... you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh it off anymore.
But just as you were trying to process this new level of ridiculousness, the doorbell rang once again. And who was standing there? None other than Yuna Claire herself, looking like an angel straight out of a K-pop music video, her smile gleaming in the sunlight. You blinked at her, mouth hanging open.
“Hi, darling,” she cooed, practically radiating with affection. “I thought you might need a little company, so I brought you some lunch.” In her hands was a bento box, beautifully arranged with perfect little rolls and desserts.
Your jaw dropped. “What... What are you doing here?”
Yuna chuckled softly, “I couldn’t just leave you all alone, could I? I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I just had to see you.” She stepped inside, brushing past you with a grace that made you feel like you were in the middle of a dream.
You were not prepared for what happened next.
She placed the bento box down on your coffee table, then turned to you with a predatory glint in her eye. “You know, darling,” she said softly, “I’m not joking anymore. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you know that.”
And with that, she leaned in, her lips barely brushing against your ear. “No more running. I’ll make you mine in every way.”
You swallowed hard, your face turning bright red. “I... I’m not running!” you stammered, trying and utterly failing ato keep your cool.
Yuna simply smiled, her eyes gleaming with possessive delight. “Good. Because I don’t like it when my darling runs away.”
And suddenly, your life became way more complicated. But also, undeniably... romantic in its own twisted, obsessive way.
A/N: lowk miss how good my writing used ot be sigh... lmk what you think! a reupload requested by anon :3
I have a bad habit of dozing during class, and unfortunately my prof's lecture becomes lost to time when an malicious thought enters.
Just here me out. Something about being a lady-in-waiting to a series of concubines for your kingdom, where your role is to help dress them, pick up after them, entertain them, and dutifully follow every request and urge that they demand.
Unfortunately, you've yet to make many friends amongst the other maids as you're clearly prioritized, the concubines dragging you along for games of chess and garden strolls. You have no one to turn to, no one to call out for when they finally pounce on you after mere days of teasing, dressing you up like a little doll and fawning over your skin.
"So soft here... and here!" One coos.
Another tests a lipstick shade upon your lips, peering at the rosy color. "Mmn, not my color. But it certainly is yours."
You're pulled and dragged like a children's toy being fought over, one concubine whining as another gloats in triumph. They've had to act 'respectable' for long enough, treated like castaways by the monarchy with nothing but their fineries to suit them. You, are perfect. You're theirs. When they come back from nights in the king's bedroom, you're there for comfort, for warm lips that don't bite and gnaw, but are gentle in handling their distraught lust.
You're half out of the frills and white cotton before you're tossed to a bed large enough for the entire castle to sleep on. They surround you, running fingers down your chest, stroking beneath the layers of fabric to graze your warm skin.
"You're so lucky, fraternizing with royal concubines; any other poor maiden would kill to be in your spot." A voice hovers in your ear, lips dragging down its shell with a soft plumpness.
"Perhaps you should thank us? I can think of a few ways."
A series of laughs ring out, wealthy and safe, as a hand pushes up your thigh, beneath the thin bloomers you barely managed to keep on.
It's as if a heat has encased the room, a thick tension hovering before it snaps. It breaks hard and you feel as if you're being pushed into a corner with a pack of hungry, silk-wearing wolves all staring at each other, then you.
It isn't long until words are a faint memory, your senses flurrying with pedicured hands and rich moans in your ears, your own ringing out somewhere in the midst, always causing a scene with the concubines when they release. They indulge in each other, in you, shameless and rough with a sadistic pleasure, and other times soft and passionate, sharing long tongue-filled kisses that you thought only lovers partook in.
Their clothes you wore are abandoned, your body on display for them as they mark you, rouge stains up your thighs as streaks of powder and blush line your chest and face, amalgamations of their perfumes and colognes decorating your flesh.
(Coudln't pick between making her an american pop idol or a k-pop idol so i made her both! She's half American and half Korean and makes variety solo music while in her band :))
Synopsis: While trying to earn your paycheck as a Audio Tech, you manage to catch the eyes of the magnetic, Grammy winning Yuna Claire.
Under the spotlight, Yuna Claire was perfection—every note, every glance choreographed for the adoration of thousands. But when her eyes landed on you, their fire softened into something sharper, something that burned with a dangerous kind of focus. You’d noticed her at first only because of Yuna's fame, the admiration people lavished on her so excessive it was hard to ignore. It was after a concert that she’d approached you, alone in the backstage crowd, moving with a deliberate pace that only you seemed oblivious to.
She’d started with a polite introduction, a charming laugh. Fans had parted around Yuna, gaping as if she were a goddess, while you gave her a casual nod, barely glancing her way. If anything, you’d appeared more captivated by the band posters on the walls. Yuna wasn’t deterred, though. Instead, she leaned in, her words silken, inviting you to a private after-party. Her words were sugar, her gaze hypnotic—but something didn’t feel quite right. And still, her allure was undeniable, almost magnetic.
But you had your own reasons for resisting. The world of flashing lights and obsessive fans didn’t appeal to you, and the drama of idol life felt exhausting just to observe. You'd given her a nonchalant smile, declining politely, leaving Yuna alone in a corridor of confused and shocked onlookers.
Yuna didn’t give up. For weeks after that, her messages appeared daily, each one a bit more intense than the last, though always wrapped in a veneer of politeness. She’d send short, casual notes about her day, like Yuna was trying to convince you of her “normal” side. Then came the carefully crafted photos, her smile dazzling, eyes dark with something unsettling. Still, Yuna knew just how to tread the line between flirty and forward, between coy and committed.
But you didn’t respond, letting your silence answer in your place.
The silence only seemed to make her bolder.
Soon, small “gifts” began appearing. They were subtle at first: a book you’d mentioned liking left anonymously on your doorstep, a handwritten letter slipped into your bag somehow, perfume lingering on the pages. Then, one day, your phone buzzed, and there was a photo attached—a candid shot of you in a coffee shop, reading. The angle was wrong, too close, taken without your notice. The caption beneath read, “I love how focused you look.”
By now, you’d pieced together Yuna's persistence and presence. She was relentless, yet subtle. You’d heard rumors that she had been known to ghost her managers, locking herself away from the world for weeks until she’d get what she wanted. Those who defied her had been known to face mysterious career setbacks, projects canceled without reason. And now, that ambition—obsession—had found its focus on you.
One evening, you returned home to find Yuna waiting at your door. Her smile was radiant as ever, but there was an edge to her eyes, a desperation swimming beneath her polished exterior. Yuna wore a hoodie, as though trying to blend into your world, her gloved hands hidden in her pockets.
“You haven’t answered me,” Yuna said, her voice soft yet unyielding. “I thought… maybe in person you’d give me a chance.”
Her gaze didn’t waver as you fumbled for your keys, blocking your way. She leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Please,” she murmured, her voice low and nearly pleading, though her eyes told a different story.
“I’m… really not interested,” you managed, keeping your tone polite but firm.
The smile on Yuna's face tightened, her fingers flexing slightly as she stood still, the air heavy with her scent and the weight of her expectations. The seconds stretched, her intense silence trapping you until she finally spoke again, her voice softer, almost disarmingly gentle.
“I can change your mind.” It wasn’t a question, more like a fact she’d already accepted. She shifted, a gleam flickering in her gaze as she stepped closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I just need a little more time to show you how much you mean to me. You wouldn’t turn me away if you knew how long I’ve waited to find someone like you.”
You could feel your pulse quicken, her intensity seeping into the air between you. The way Yuna looked at you—as though you were the one person in a world of facades—stirred something uncomfortable, something deeply unsettling. But behind that, a chill ran down your spine, the unease creeping in as her gaze lingered, too steady, too fixed, a promise hidden in the depths of her stare.
“I just… want to be left alone,” you said softly, pushing the words out, feeling the way they seemed to make her freeze for a moment, like she was memorizing the rejection, absorbing it before it sank into her.
And then, Yuna's smile widened, her voice tinged with an eerie, honeyed calm. “You’ll change your mind,” she murmured, pressing a soft hand to your arm. “I have all the time in the world for you. And don’t worry—I won’t be far.”
She let her fingers linger just a moment too long before stepping back, her gaze never leaving yours as she turned, leaving you in the dim hallway. And as she walked away, you felt a cold certainty that this was only the beginning.
A few days passed with nothing more than a tense silence and a faint scent of her perfume lingering in your mind. You tried to shake her memory, the look in her eyes that had lingered too long, the unwavering way Yuna had spoken as if her persistence was just a matter of inevitability. But Yuna had fallen quiet, her presence slipping back into the shadows. You told yourself that maybe she’d taken the hint, that perhaps her attention had finally shifted.
But soon, small traces of her began appearing everywhere. It started innocently enough: a coffee cup with Yuna's autograph on the sleeve sitting outside your door one morning, her signature sharp and elaborate. Then, one day, a bouquet of deep red roses appeared—delivered straight to your office, the envelope tucked inside holding only a single message in her elegant handwriting: You missed my last concert. I was thinking of you the whole time. You could almost hear her voice in the words, soft and unhurried, like a gentle reminder she would never let you go.
Still, you kept your distance, responding to her with only silence, the only reaction you could give that felt remotely safe. But Yuna's gifts continued, each more intimate than the last. One night, you found a plush blanket folded perfectly at your doorstep, the fabric woven with her initials stitched carefully into the corner. You left it there, untouched, but the next morning, it was gone, replaced by a small silver necklace, engraved with the words, Forever yours.
By now, you were beginning to feel Yuna's presence even when she wasn’t there. You couldn’t walk down the street without glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting her to step out from the shadows, her voice low and calm, as if she’d just been waiting for you to look her way. It made the world feel smaller, her influence extending far beyond the glossy photoshoots and stage lights. She wasn’t just a presence on screens or in songs; she was a shadow, creeping into every quiet corner of your life.
It was on a rainy night that she finally crossed the line. You were sitting at your kitchen table, half-awake and nursing a cup of coffee, trying to shake off the unease that had followed you home. There was a knock on your door, soft but unmissable. Your heart dropped, a part of you already knowing who it would be.
Reluctantly, you opened the door, and there she was—drenched from the rain, her hair clinging to her face, lips painted red but smudged slightly as though she’d been rushing. Her eyes were wide and focused, her gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made you want to step back, but she was faster, already inside before you could say anything.
“Why haven’t you answered me?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, but the sharpness was unmistakable. “I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to give you time, but you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but Yuna shook her head, her fingers curling into fists, her gaze brimming with something raw and desperate. “I’ve waited so long to find someone who doesn’t see me as just entertainment,” she continued, her voice wavering slightly. “Everyone else is obsessed with the idea of me, but you… You’re real. You’re the only real thing in my world, and I won’t let you ignore me.”
Her words were laced with a haunting vulnerability, but there was an edge there, a dark gleam in her eye that made your skin prickle. She took a step forward, and before you could react, her hands were on your arms, her grip surprisingly strong as she pulled you close.
“Do you know what it’s like to be worshipped by everyone but feel completely alone?” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. “No one sees me like you do. You can’t understand what that means to me… what you mean to me.”
Her fingers traced along your arms, almost possessively, her gaze dropping to the floor before lifting again, filled with a sorrowful intensity that left you speechless. Her voice softened, barely above a whisper, but there was an unmistakable steel behind her words. “If I have to tear down every wall, break every distance between us, I will. You don’t understand how much I need you. You don’t know what it feels like to need someone the way I need you.”
You tried to pull away, but her grip tightened, her fingers pressing into your skin. There was a flicker of pain in her eyes, like she was fighting something darker, something she couldn’t control. Yuna's voice grew softer, almost pleading, a softness masking something much more intense. “I’ll be everything for you,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to her hands on your arms. “I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll leave the spotlight if I have to… if that’s what it takes.”
Her words hung in the air, filled with an eerie promise, a willingness to unravel her entire life just for a chance to stay by your side. You could feel her desperation, her obsession suffocating, seeping into the space between you until it felt like a cage.
“Please,” you finally said, managing to pry her hands off, your voice steady though your heart was pounding. “I don’t want this. I never asked for it, and you need to understand that.”
Her face fell, her expression wavering as though the weight of your rejection was physically painful. But after a moment, she smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You think you don’t want this now,” she said softly, her voice gentle, yet chilling. “But you just haven’t given me a chance to show you. I’ll change your mind… I know I will.”
With that, she took a step back, her gaze lingering as she brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. Her voice was soft, affectionate, but there was something almost dangerous in it now, something unyielding. “I’ll be seeing you,” she whispered, almost like a promise, before turning and slipping out into the rain.
As the door clicked shut behind her, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew, with an unsettling certainty, that this wasn’t over. And somehow, a part of you wondered if it ever would be.
You sank into a chair, heart pounding as you tried to shake off the echo of her words. But her presence lingered, curling around you like smoke, insistent and inescapable. Every shadow in your apartment seemed to hold her gaze, every sound just outside the door felt like her footsteps waiting to step back into your world.
In the days that followed, it was as if she’d slipped into your life like a shadow cast just beyond reach. It started small again—your phone buzzing with her messages, her number somehow bypassing the blocks you’d put in place. A photo of the view from her hotel room, sent late at night with a message below: This would look better if you were here. Each time you saw her name appear, a tightness grew in your chest, the constant reminder that she was watching, waiting.
When you went out, she was there, always just out of sight but close enough that you could feel her, as if her gaze was a constant weight on the back of your neck. She lingered at cafes, always alone at a distant table, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, never taking them off until you’d met her stare for just a moment too long. She’d nod, that half-smile twisting into something more when she saw the flicker of discomfort on your face.
One evening, you arrived home to find a package waiting for you—an expensive leather-bound journal, its cover engraved with your initials. Inside, she’d filled pages with a mix of her own thoughts, scrawled lyrics, and snapshots of herself, each one accompanied by a handwritten note. Some were simple—Thinking of you—while others were bolder: You belong in my life. The scent of her perfume clung to every page, making it feel as though she’d marked each one as her own. The effect was suffocating.
You tried to shake it off, tried to return to normal. You avoided places she’d visited, tried to take different routes, anything to break free of the feeling of being watched. But no matter where you went, she was always one step ahead, a quiet but relentless shadow. And then one night, as you sat in a dimly lit bar, she slipped into the seat across from you, her presence as bold and unyielding as ever.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you murmured, your voice betraying the surprise and unease that flooded your senses.
She simply tilted her head, a knowing smile curling her lips. “I told you, didn’t I? I’d be seeing you again.” Her fingers drummed on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “You keep avoiding me, but I know what you really need, what you’re afraid to admit.” Her words were soft, intimate, as though she were whispering them just for you.
“You don’t know anything about me,” you replied, keeping your tone even, though it felt like you were trying to steady yourself on a tightrope. “This obsession… it’s not what you think it is.”
She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “That’s where you’re wrong.” Her eyes gleamed with a chilling certainty. “You’ve made me wait, given me time to understand what you really need. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people who don’t see you… but I see everything about you.” She leaned closer, her voice low and steady, her gaze intense enough to hold you in place. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not until you realize that we belong together.”
She pulled out a silver key, placing it on the table between you, a soft clink breaking the heavy silence. “I had a spare made,” she murmured, her voice a ghost of a whisper, as though confessing a secret. “I didn’t want to intrude too much, but… it’s better this way. I don’t have to wait for you to come to me—I can just find you when you’re ready.”
A chill swept through you, and the faint smile on her lips made it clear she knew exactly the effect she was having on you. She reached out, her fingers grazing the back of your hand, her touch soft yet possessive. “You’re afraid now,” she murmured, her eyes softening just enough to mimic tenderness. “But I’m willing to wait. I’m patient. I’ll give you all the time you need… because in the end, you’ll see that I’m the only one who truly understands you.”
Before you could respond, she rose, leaving the key glinting in the dim light between you, a symbol of the door she had already opened, the boundary she’d so carefully, and deliberately, crossed. And as she walked away, you realized, with a sinking certainty, that there was no escaping her.
The lessons that had been instilled in you since birth resurfaced in your mind: ‘The Mother of the Nation should be dignified, elegant, and composed. She should never show any sign of weakness in front of her subjects.’
But you couldn’t help but break in her embrace.
✦✧✦✧
[tw: adultery, s*xism, slight description of blood/injury]
✦✧✦✧
Your marriage with your husband—the Emperor, was a cold and loveless one, devoid of any warmth or affection.
The two of you were betrothed to each other at a young age for the sake of politics. You were the daughter of an influential duke, while he was the heir to the throne. To the gaze of others, it had seemed like the perfect match.
You had once thought the same. You had hoped that the differences between the two of you would find a resolution in the arrangement, but that wish gradually withered away, unfulfilled.
You could only silently endure the circumstances you were placed in, maintaining the perfect facade expected of an Empress.
As the years passed, the weight of responsibility overshadowed the absence of love in your marriage, settling deep within you as resigned acceptance.
But deep down, a small, naive part of you still wished for a happy ending with your prince, like in all those fairy tales your mother had once read to you before she died.
Your parents’ marriage had also been an arranged one, but as a little girl, you remembered the way your father would look at your mother as if she had hung all the stars in the sky. Perhaps one day, your husband would look at you in the same way?
It was simply too bad that this small hope of yours had been mercilessly crushed the moment your husband brought her home.
The sight of them together made your stomach twist into knots, and your words were caught in your throat. Your hands trembled as you clutched the silky fabric of your gown, trying to maintain a steady composure.
She was beautiful, with flowing blond locks and bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight filtering through her delicate skin. Although dressed in a simple gown that marked her status as a commoner, she exuded the grace and elegance of a noble princess.
A faint smile played on her lips as she laughed lightly with your husband, and he returned her smile with an equally warm one.
Why had he never smiled at you like that before?
“Her Majesty has arrived!” announced the servant behind you, and only then, did the lovers part.
Your eyes met her blue ones. Her face lit up with excitement and delight as she took several steps toward you before stopping abruptly, realizing she was in front of the Emperor's wife.
Her eyes widened, and she immediately fell into a curtsy. Her dress rustled softly as her head dipped lower, revealing the graceful lines of her neck and arms.
"G-greetings, Your Majesty! I've been looking forward to meeting you." Her voice held a slight tremor as she spoke.
She seemed younger than you, an edge of innocence that stirred people's protectiveness under her words—it served as another bitter reminder that the man you married did not belong to you.
You ignored her gaze boring into you; instead, turning your eyes back to your husband.
Your tone was icy, "What is this?"
"Lucia is going to live at the palace." He replied smoothly.
A hazy sense of familiarity washed over you once you heard her name come out of his mouth, but that was quickly forgotten with his next words:
"I intend to make her my concubine."
"What?" Your breath hitched sharply. "Why was I not informed of this sooner?"
He furrowed his brows in disapproval, "I do not need to explain my decisions to you. Do not get ahead of yourself."
"Have you not thought about what others would think—"
"Is that all you worry about?”
“Excuse me?”
“You have failed in your duty as my wife, for four years, you have not bore me a single child. It was about time someone else took care of it."
The harshness of his words cut through you like a blade, leaving you momentarily speechless. He continued, unperturbed by your silence, "My decision is final. I expect you, as the Empress, to give her suitable accommodations and see that she gets properly educated and trained."
You suddenly felt the urge to laugh, a humorless scoff ripping from your mouth as a cold fury burned within you. Your fingers curled tightly against your palm until it drew blood.
Your voice was hollow:
"I have important matters to attend to. Enjoy your stay, Lady Lucia."
Without waiting for an answer, you turned on your heel and strode out the grand corridors, the entourage of servants silently trailing behind you.
The sound of numerous steps echoed throughout the halls, but you had never felt as lonely as you did in that moment.
✦✧✦✧
Soon, word had spread quickly of Lucia's arrival as the Emperor's new concubine.
Even your family had heard the news. You were quickly met with a wrathful letter from the Duke, shaming you for losing to another woman—a commoner, no less.
For days, you had remained alone in your chambers. Rereading the scathing remarks written on the crumpled letter over and over again. Your father’s scorn a heavy burden on your already weary shoulders.
But what could you do? The Emperor's actions were beyond your control. It wasn't unheard of for a monarch to take lovers, and in some ways, even expected.
And the task of ignoring the jeers and taunts behind your back was becoming increasingly harder. In order to distract yourself, you began to drown yourself in the your duties.
"—They say Her Majesty is infertile. If that's true then here's no doubt about it; she'll be replaced by that new girl soon."
"—She's growing older each day, but there is still no sign of a child being conceived. Of course His Majesty would become tired of her."
"Poor thing."
You felt your fingers dig deeper into the gloves you wore, humiliation coiling in your gut. Behind you, your personal maid, Mary, spoke up, her voice filled with indignation on your behalf.
"Your Majesty, I'll go teach them a lesson—"
"No need," You replied, with a composed exterior, you continued walking. "Let's go."
As your husband had requested, you provided Lucia with everything he had asked for: servants, new gowns, jewelry, and suitable living quarters (which you ensured were as far away as possible from your residence). The lavish gifts and quarters were more than generous, a testament to your patience.
You had also ensured that her presence would be kept minimally invasive to your daily life. Hopefully, the only times you would encounter her were on formal occasions, and nothing else.
But it seemed that fate had a cruel way of playing tricks on mortals.
From the corner of your eye, a hint of blonde hair caught your attention.
You halted in your steps as Lucia's face came into view, accompanied by a small group of her attendants.
‘Why was she here?’
The sight was enough to put you on edge; the last person you wanted to see right now was your husband's mistress.
She wore a delighted expression on her face as the group made their way toward you, "Your Majesty! I've been looking for you.”
Before you could respond, Mary stepped forward and quickly curtsied before the blonde woman, a hint of unfriendliness in her tone:
"Lady Lucia, how can we help you?"
An indiscernible emotion flashed across Lucia's eyes before she smiled again.
"I wanted to thank Her Majesty for all the help she has given me, and was going to invite her for tea."
You couldn't believe your ears. Was she testing your patience on purpose?
"Her Majesty has important business to attend to. Perhaps we could arrange another time." Mary suggested firmly.
But the blonde woman ignored Mary’s words, and turned her expectant gaze towards you instead.
You remained composed, offering Lucia a polite smile that did not quite reach your eyes.
"I appreciate the kind gesture, Lady Lucia. But perhaps another time.”
You watched as Lucia's smile faltered, before she slowly nodded her head,
"I see... I'm sorry if I'm bothering you,"
You made a mental note to instruct the guards later not to let her wander around freely anymore. Seeing her every day would likely ruin your mood even more.
"—But,"
Shocked gasps rose from the attendants around you.
“My lady!”
Lucia paused, then her delicate fingers lifted the hem of her gown to reveal the crimson-stained slippers underneath. The blood had seeped through, staining her pristine white stockings a dark, ominous shade of red.
Your eyes widened in shock. The gory sight was enough to send shudders down your spine.
Lucia's eyes were wide, and her lips curved up into a serene smile, "It wouldn't hurt Her Majesty to join us this once."
"Lady Lucia... What are you planning?" You demanded, your voice trembling slightly as an unsettling feeling began to settle in the pit of your stomach.
Her voice rang out, sickeningly sweet:
"I only wish to repay you. It would be a shame for His Majesty to hear about his beloved concubine getting injured in the Empress' own quarters. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?"
Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female
(8941 words)
You regretted agreeing to this.
Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.
They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.
You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.
Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.
You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.
You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.
Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!
Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.
"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.
"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.
"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"
"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"
You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.
The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.
"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.
"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.
"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.
"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.
But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.
You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.
There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!
She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.
The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.
You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.
She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.
Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."
You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.
You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-
"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"
A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.
You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.
He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.
"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"
"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.
His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"
Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.
"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.
Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.
You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.
"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."
Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?
You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.
"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."
Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.
"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.
You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.
"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."
You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.
"Duh." She bobbed her head.
There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.
"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.
You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.
"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.
You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.
"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.
You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.
You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.
"Heyy..."
You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"
"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.
You asked if that was really necessary.
"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.
All you could do was nod meekly.
Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.
"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.
You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.
"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.
You asked what you should call her instead.
"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."
You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.
You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.
"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."
You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.
She shook her head defiantly.
"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."
You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.
A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.
"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.
"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."
You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.
"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.
You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.
You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.
Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.
You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.
You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.
The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.
When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.
You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.
She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.
However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.
The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.
In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.
You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.
It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.
"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"
The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...
You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.
"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"
"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"
"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"
"Really!? The rapper!?"
You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.
Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.
Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.
You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.
Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.
"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.
You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.
"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.
Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.
You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.
It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.
"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."
You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.
So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.
It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.
"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.
You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.
"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."
You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.
For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.
It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.
You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.
It's getting late, you should leave.
So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.
She frowned. "Boo. Boring."
You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.
"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.
You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.
"They don't close til 10."
Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.
She stuck her tongue out at you.
"Fine. But I'm driving you home."
You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.
"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.
Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.
The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.
It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.
It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.
Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.
"Stop working letz go shopping"
"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"
"nerd :-P"
"im boreddddddddddddd"
"go clubbing with moiiii"
"letzzz goooo"
"stop ignoring me :-("
These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.
But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.
You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.
"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.
In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.
Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.
A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.
"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"
You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.
"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."
You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.
For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.
All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.
She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.
It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.
It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.
Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.
You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.
You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...
"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.
She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:
"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!
"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.
"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.
She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.
But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.
You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?
"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.
"I didn't like my order."
You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.
"They didn't make it right!"
You asked her what made her think they made yours right.
"They just do!"
You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?
She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.
You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.
This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.
But she chose and bought you these clothes...?
You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.
"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.
You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.
"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.
Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.
"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."
Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.
Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.
You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.
Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.
"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.
You said you can't. You have work to do.
"Says who?"
You said your boss.
"Who's your boss?"
For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.
But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.
"Tell her!" She demanded.
"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."
Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.
"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.
You looked at her. How could she just do that?
"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.
It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.
It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?
It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.
It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.
But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.
So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.
And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.
Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.
You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.
You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.
It didn't last long, though.
There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.
Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.
The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.
Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.
She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.
However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.
"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.
You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!
You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?
The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.
"You."
Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.
You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"
This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.
"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.
You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.
"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.
"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"
You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.
"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.
You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.
She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.
You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?
You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.
You regretted agreeing to come to the city.
She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.
Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.
She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.
Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.
But now...
"Sit."
You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.
Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.
"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.
You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.
She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.
"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!
You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.
"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.
Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.
You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.
"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.
"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.
You nodded and let out a muffled yell.
"Roll over."
You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.
"Play dead."
You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.
"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.
You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.
"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.
"Open your legs."
She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.
"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.
You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.
You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.
Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.
Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.
Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female
(8941 words)
You regretted agreeing to this.
Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.
They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.
You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.
Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.
You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.
You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.
Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!
Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.
"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.
"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.
"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"
"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"
You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.
The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.
"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.
"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.
"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.
"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.
But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.
You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.
There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!
She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.
The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.
You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.
She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.
Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."
You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.
You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-
"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"
A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.
You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.
He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.
"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"
"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.
His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"
Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.
"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.
Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.
You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.
"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."
Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?
You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.
"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."
Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.
"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.
You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.
"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."
You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.
"Duh." She bobbed her head.
There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.
"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.
You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.
"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.
You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.
"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.
You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.
You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.
"Heyy..."
You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"
"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.
You asked if that was really necessary.
"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.
All you could do was nod meekly.
Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.
"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.
You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.
"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.
You asked what you should call her instead.
"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."
You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.
You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.
"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."
You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.
She shook her head defiantly.
"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."
You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.
A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.
"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.
"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."
You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.
"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.
You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.
You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.
Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.
You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.
You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.
The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.
When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.
You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.
She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.
However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.
The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.
In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.
You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.
It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.
"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"
The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...
You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.
"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"
"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"
"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"
"Really!? The rapper!?"
You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.
Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.
Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.
You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.
Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.
"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.
You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.
"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.
Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.
You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.
It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.
"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."
You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.
So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.
It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.
"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.
You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.
"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."
You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.
For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.
It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.
You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.
It's getting late, you should leave.
So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.
She frowned. "Boo. Boring."
You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.
"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.
You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.
"They don't close til 10."
Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.
She stuck her tongue out at you.
"Fine. But I'm driving you home."
You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.
"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.
Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.
The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.
It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.
It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.
Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.
"Stop working letz go shopping"
"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"
"nerd :-P"
"im boreddddddddddddd"
"go clubbing with moiiii"
"letzzz goooo"
"stop ignoring me :-("
These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.
But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.
You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.
"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.
In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.
Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.
A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.
"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"
You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.
"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."
You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.
For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.
All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.
She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.
It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.
It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.
Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.
You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.
You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...
"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.
She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:
"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!
"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.
"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.
She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.
But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.
You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?
"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.
"I didn't like my order."
You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.
"They didn't make it right!"
You asked her what made her think they made yours right.
"They just do!"
You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?
She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.
You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.
This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.
But she chose and bought you these clothes...?
You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.
"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.
You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.
"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.
Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.
"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."
Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.
Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.
You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.
Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.
"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.
You said you can't. You have work to do.
"Says who?"
You said your boss.
"Who's your boss?"
For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.
But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.
"Tell her!" She demanded.
"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."
Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.
"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.
You looked at her. How could she just do that?
"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.
It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.
It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?
It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.
It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.
But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.
So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.
And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.
Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.
You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.
You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.
It didn't last long, though.
There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.
Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.
The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.
Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.
She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.
However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.
"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.
You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!
You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?
The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.
"You."
Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.
You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"
This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.
"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.
You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.
"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.
"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"
You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.
"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.
You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.
She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.
You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?
You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.
You regretted agreeing to come to the city.
She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.
Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.
She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.
Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.
But now...
"Sit."
You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.
Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.
"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.
You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.
She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.
"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!
You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.
"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.
Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.
You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.
"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.
"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.
You nodded and let out a muffled yell.
"Roll over."
You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.
"Play dead."
You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.
"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.
You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.
"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.
"Open your legs."
She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.
"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.
You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.
You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.
Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.
Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.
