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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 4 months ago

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✧✦✧ Chapter 2 ✧✦✧

A New Reset, An Old Story

Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader

Warning this part contains: low qual English + corny/cringey usage of it, lots of cursing, emotional stuff, weird hallucinations, and bad editing I guess? was someone there before? Can someone pick me up? MC is being weird.

Note: a bit longer part this time

MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 1 , 3 ...➣

NOW PLAYING ↻◁ ||▷↺ Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole lıılıılılılıılıılı

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How do you act when you feel like your day keeps repeating?.

Would you be content? to just go with the flow? to memorize each of your steps, actions or words?.

Or, would you go crazy? lose your mind and sanity? to see red dancing on the edge of your eyes if you keep remembering the shit that keeps happening to you?.

I would, especially if you went through what I did, all effort I did just gone with one bullet from a gun, from a high fall, a kidnapping gone wrong, get killed by a villian, a sword, a freak accident or maybe just one very very bad day.

Gripping my seatbelt I wait for Commissioner Gordon to open the car's door and let me out, stepping out of the police car with it's siren and lights off, I stand on the graveled road that leads to the stone steps of the old and dark mansion I knew too well.

A little scribbles pops in my vision roughly drawings and crossings on the mansion as if it's giving it an evil and snarling look of a giant man eating beast.

The older man gently stir me up to the porch and I watch as he ring the doorbell - The tiny mean words and drawings floating around the door flew away from the sound - on the side of the giant doors as we wait for anyone to answer.

Tensing when I heard someone's familiar shoes thudding on the otherside of the closed entrance, I step back as I grabbed Gordon's coat and braced myself to put up a new face again.

'By now Alfred should open the doors and be surprised to meet us'. a little tiny voice said by my ear as they hide behind my back- peeking over my shoulder as if they were scared even though they're not the one confronting them anyway.

As soon as they're guess was right, I observe the old event unfolding in front of me seeing Gordon hand Alfred a manila folder and show him what I knew was my DNA test, citizen papers and profile inside.

I stare blankly at Alfred who looked at me with slight pity and worry after he heard that Gordon personally escorted me here because I was supposed to be relocated to my biological father custody more than a few months ago.

'Would have prefer to stay there as well but the broody asshole insisted on one of the last resets and got my hopes up just to go back to becoming #1 fucked up dad on my list'

'Yeah! he's such an asshole!' The voice pipe up with a snort and a laugh while leaning on my shoulder.

I turn back to Commissioner Gordon one last time as he drove off as I sadly wave goodbye from the door before side eyeing the butler who was already watching me.

"Would you like some tea young master?". He kneels down and hold out a hand to me.

I stare at his face as I see glimpse of scratches around the air and scribbles on his face - crude lines to circle around his only slightly older look - a wobbly arrow to point at the small cracks of wrinkles on the edge of his eyes and a small older doodle of him from my old memories comparing his age before a glitch switching between a golden halo to devil horns floated above his head.

Blinking two times suddenly everything turned back to normal as I look at him again properly and I study his white gloved hand before grabbing it in a practiced motion as I keep on with the old scrip that I memorize long ago.

Walking close to him I follow as we pass long dark hallways that was only illuminated the flashing of lightning during the current storm and a few dark oakwood doors each one seemed taller and more menacing than the last as we entered a fairly large kitchen that I grew to love and spent most of my time in before.

He led me to an kitchen island with a marbled top so shiny I can see my face's reflection clearly along with a few stool chair with actual leather covers and I carefully climb before proceeding to watch him prepare me a tea and some of his prized cookies.

While waiting I got lost in my thoughts as I re-assess on what to do in this reset.

'What do I do now? does it even matter?'

'Do we even matter?' the small voice questioned in my ear.

I remember the times I try to use the past knowledge I have to get closer to them but........

'nothing really works for us anyway' again they reply with a murmur and lean on my shoulder.

No matter how hard I try, everything I sacrificed, anything I do nothing happens, sure there were some................. progress but I always get cut off by another death.

'We're just born to do this shit all over again' they spit out now with anger in their voice while I hear their teeth grinding together and their sharp nails digging on my skin.

If nothing else works then.......

Looking down at my bandage hand filled with little doodles from the other children in the orphanage and some cute yet old sticky cartoon bandaids, I relaxed my small hands on the flat marbled surface and breathe out.

I got nothing to lose, 2790 resets made me understand how dumb and starved I am for attention and love.

'So hungry and leaving us Starving-!' They groan and wail in pain before vanishing away.

Snapping my head up I see Alfred gently pushing a nice steaming cup of tea in front of me as well as some cookies on a plate.

I slowly reach out and take the cup before blowing on the warm tea then taking a tiny sip and relish the hidden memories that this tea have brought me.

As I stare at my reflection I see it ripples as my hands shake and my body soon followed as I sniffled and hiccup, Alfred the ever gentleman that he is carefully took a hold of the tea cup as I cry finally cry out.

I cry till my eyes are puffy, I cry as let all the pain I have endured for so long, I cry out and childishly try to wipe off my snot as I asked for my mother to come back.

I cry because

I can.

--- ✧✦✧ ---

After finishing my tea and the cookies Alfred asked me if I wanted to wait for 'my father' before I go to my 'new' bedroom.

I see them in the corner as the shadows collects on that side and rise up to reach the ceiling 'They' shook their head and blared a large rough 'X' in the air then disappear with a flash of lighting coming through from the large windows.

"No,...... it's fine maybe tomorrow". I said looking down before turning up to Alfred and set my plan in motion.

"Mr. Alfred?". I asked as I gently tugged on his slacks making him look down to me.

"Yes young master?". He angles down to me as he put away the dried dishes.

I see 'their' wide and sharky smile behind Alfred's shoulder before popping back down his back.

"Can I stay with you?". I asked tightening my hold on him.

'From now on, nothing else matters except you.........If we can't get a family out of this shitty one then We'll make a new one' They murmur down while twirling a small baby hair on my nape.

But first-

We'll have to prepare for a little reunion.

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U I A U I A A U U I I A

Taglist later because I'm now entertaining food coma bleh *dies*

#No More Chances #yandere batfam #x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere #yandere batman x reader #Yandere batboys #yandere Platonic #yandere platonic x reader #yandere alfred pennyworth

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misahyochaeng · 2 months ago

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FETISH

tw: dom!momo, sub!reader, photography-tutor!momo, “intern”!reader, enemies/rivals to friends to lovers(?), slight angst & fluff, fingering, pussy eating, momo’s slightly older, she also likes girls who beg 😊 (me ngl), slight humiliation, begging, a bit of degradation and impact play.

You absentmindedly fold the blank pages of your sticky notes into tiny origami figures, your fingers working on autopilot while the professor drones on about the rule of thirds. You've memorized every angle and nuance—today’s lesson is nothing new to you.

Suddenly, a tiny paper ball lands squarely on your table. You pause, and without even looking up, you know exactly who’s responsible. Momo, ever the nonchalant senior, sits a few rows ahead with a self-assured smirk. She points at the front of the class, silently commanding your attention.

You roll your eyes and return to your folding, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Leaning against your shoulder, Chaeyoung doodles absentmindedly on the edge of your paper.

“Ugh, she’s so irritating,” you mutter, your tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “Every single class, she just has to make me her personal punching bag.”

Chaeyoung looks up with a gentle smile. “Maybe she’s just bored. You know how seniors can be—they think they’re above it all.”

You scoff. “Above it? More like she’s on a mission to drive me crazy.”

Before you can continue, another paper ball whizzes by and lands on your desk. You shoot a glare at Momo, who casually flips you off before returning to her cool demeanor.

“Momo, seriously?” you mumble under your breath, the irritation clear in your voice.

Chaeyoung whispers, “Honestly, I think it’s her way of saying hello… in her own twisted way.”

At that moment, the professor’s voice snaps through the murmur of the classroom, “Alright, everyone, listen up. Today you’ll be working on a group project based on the rule of thirds. I’ll be drawing names from the registration numbers.”

You lean toward Chaeyoung, whispering about your dinner plans—McDonald’s, of course—when the professor announces, “Numbers 13 and 3.”

Your stomach drops.

You already know your number is 13, but 3… isn’t Chaeyoung’s. You quickly flip through your folder, scanning the list of student numbers.

A tap on your shoulder makes you freeze.

You don’t even need to turn around. You’d recognize that perfume anywhere.

“For fuck’s sake…” you mutter under your breath.

“Hey, respect your seniors, assface,” Momo drawls before giving you a not-so-gentle shove forward.

Then, as if she wasn’t just tormenting you a second ago, she turns to Chaeyoung with a sweet smile. “Hey, Chaeyoung.”

“Hey…” Chaeyoung laughs nervously before standing up. She mouths good luck before abandoning you to your fate.

Momo settles into the chair next to you, stretching her arms behind her head like she doesn’t have a care in the world. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking.

This is going to be hell.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, as Momo taps a pen against her notebook. She isn’t even looking at you, just scribbling something down like she’s already taken charge of the entire project before you’ve had a chance to speak.

“Alright,” she says, casually flipping a page. “Since I’m the oldest here—and obviously the one with more experience—I’ll handle the creative direction. You can be my assistant.”

You blink at her. “Assistant?”

She finally looks up, lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah. Like my little sidekick.”

You scoff. “I don’t remember signing up to be your intern.”

Momo hums, tapping her pen against her chin like she’s thinking it over. “You’re right. Interns at least get college credit.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh, you’re hilarious.”

“I try.” She shrugs, turning back to her notes. “Anyway, I already have a plan. Something bold, something striking—something that might actually get us an A.”

“Might?” you repeat, offended.

“Well.” She glances at you, her smirk deepening. “You do tend to drag things down, so no promises.”

You slap a hand over your chest dramatically. “Wow. Senior privilege has really gone to your head, huh?”

Momo chuckles but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she stretches her arms behind her head and sighs. “You’ll get used to it.” Then, without missing a beat, she adds, “Now, go fetch me a coffee.”

You stare at her, waiting for the punchline.

She stares back, completely serious.

“In the middle of class?” you ask.

She tilts her head slightly, as if pretending to weigh the logic of that. “Yeah. I think better when I have caffeine. And you work better when you do what I say. So, really, this benefits both of us.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “You cannot be fucking serious.”

Momo leans in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Then do something about it.”

Your glare meets her smirk, and for a few seconds, it’s a silent battle of wills.

You groan, digging into your bag for your wallet. “You’re the worst.”

“No, I’m the best.”

You shake your head as you push your chair back. “This is gonna be a long project.”

Behind you, Momo chuckles, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, trust me, Y/N, you have no idea.”

The tiny campus coffee shop was buzzing with students, the scent of freshly brewed espresso and warm pastries hanging in the air. It was run by the school’s barista and baking club, which meant the prices were decent, and the coffee was actually good—not that you cared about any of that right now.

Because right now, you were stuck in a booth across from Momo, who was currently staring at the bill like it had personally offended her.

“I told you, you should’ve paid,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

You scoffed. “And I told you we were splitting it.”

Momo groaned dramatically, leaning back against the seat. “Why do I even have to pay? I didn’t even want to come here in the first place.”

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself?” You rolled your eyes, pushing half the bill toward her. “You dragged me out of class for this.”

She narrowed her eyes but eventually reached into her pocket and begrudgingly slapped a few bills onto the table. “This is daylight robbery.”

“It’s literally five bucks.”

“It’s absurd.”

You ignored her, pulling out your notes and flipping through them. Unlike Momo, who had come in with zero preparation, you had already crammed a whole bundle of organized ideas long before this project was even announced. You knew exactly what had to be done—it was simple, really.

Momo, of course, not admitting it, but you caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes as she skimmed over your notes. impressed, though her ego was way too huge to say it out loud.

“So, I was thinking we could go for a more dynamic composition,” you started, pointing to a section of your notes. “Maybe play with leading lines or forced perspective—”

Momo scoffed, flipping one of the pages like it was offensive. “You’re trying way too hard.”

Your eye twitched. “It’s called being prepared, Hirai.”

“It’s called overachieving, freshman.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you glared at her, while she casually sipped her coffee like she wasn’t getting on your last nerve.

“Look, you wanna do something boring, fine,” you said, exasperated. “But don’t come crying to me when the professor gives us a mid-grade because someone—” you jabbed a finger in her direction, “—didn’t want to actually put in effort.”

Momo smirked. “Please, like you’d ever let our grade drop. You’d rather die.”

“That’s—That’s not the point!”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “Relax, freshman. I’ll throw in some of my genius ideas, and we’ll be fine.”

You huffed. “Stop calling me that. You don’t even have a plan, do you?”

“I have vibes.”

You smacked your forehead. “Jesus Christ.”

The discussion—or rather, the argument—only escalated from there. What started as a simple debate over concepts turned into full-blown shouting about color theory, lighting choices, and whether or not Momo even understood what the rule of thirds was.

“I literally just explained it to you!”

“I understood it! I just think it’s dumb!”

“You’re dumb!”

“Wow, real mature.”

“Why are you like this?!”

By the time the coffee shop’s owner came over and politely —but firmly—asked you both to leave, you were fuming, and Momo looked far too pleased with herself. She shoved you out the door first, laughing under her breath as you stomped out.

You pulled your hoodie over your head, practically vibrating with frustration. “I’ll text you,” you muttered, keeping your gaze on the ground. Because honestly? Seeing her in person was a pain.

Momo chuckled, hands in her pockets. “Can’t wait.”

Every interaction with Momo was like an active battlefield.

Even through text, it was an argument. You’d message her something simple—Hey, let’s meet up tomorrow to finalize the outline—and she’d somehow turn it into a whole debate.

"Tomorrow’s no good. Do it yourself."

"I’m not doing everything alone, Momo."

"You basically already are, what’s the difference?"

“Fuck you."

It was exhausting.

Between this project, your other assignments, and just trying to survive life in general, made your patience wear thin. And she wasn’t helping. Every time you tried to make progress, she either made some sarcastic remark, refused to cooperate, or sent you on a damn coffee run just to waste your time.

And today?

Today was your breaking point.

The rain poured heavily outside as students rushed past with umbrellas and jackets pulled over their heads. You didn’t care about any of that. You were standing under the awning near the campus library, fists clenched, soaked to the bone, trying to talk sense into her.

“Can you for once take this seriously?!” you shouted over the rain, your voice raw with frustration.

Momo, standing in front of you with her usual nonchalant expression, just sighed. “I am taking it seriously. You’re the one freaking out.”

Your hands shook. “Are you—do you even hear yourself?! This project is due in less than a week and you’ve done absolute bullshit!”

She smirked. “I gave input.”

“Arguing with me every second isn’t input, Momo!”

You could feel the lump in your throat growing, frustration swelling in your chest like a balloon ready to burst. The rain pelted against you both, drenching your clothes, but you didn’t care. You were so tired.

Momo, however, just stuffed her hands into her hoodie pockets, barely fazed. “You need to chill.”

That was it.

That was the final straw.

With a strangled yell, you shoved her—hard. Momo barely had time to react before she stumbled back, slipping slightly on the wet pavement. She landed on the ground with a dull thud, rain instantly soaking through her jeans, her hands catching her fall too late.

For a second, she just blinked up at you, stunned.

But you didn’t care. You were shaking, tears already streaming down your face as your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave.

“You—you make my life a living hell,” you choked out, voice cracking. “I try to be cooperative, i try to listen—but every fucking second I spend trying to work with you, you make it worse.”

Momo just stared, lips slightly parted, but for once, she didn’t have a quick comeback.

With trembling hands, you reached into your bag and pulled out a thick stack of papers—a perfectly printed and organized document.

The project plan.

The exact layout, execution, and theme. Everything—even the parts Momo had specifically wanted.

And then, right in front of her, you crumpled it in your fists and threw it at her. The rain immediately soaked the pages, ink smearing, paper sagging as it landed against her chest.

Momo barely moved, still sitting in the puddle, as she slowly picked up the now-wet document. She tried to unfold the ruined pages, her fingers smearing the ink as she stared at the careful details, the way everything had been planned out—just the way she had stubbornly insisted.

A strange pang settled in her chest.

Why?

Momo had been feeling off all weekend.

No matter how many times she pulled up your contact, hovered over the text box, or even typed out a snarky insult, she always ended up deleting it. Too much? Not enough? She had no idea. And the fact that she even cared this much was messing with her head.

She didn’t hear from you at all. No texts, no passive-aggressive insults, no complaints. Not even a middle finger emoji.

By Monday, it was bothering her.

When she walked into class, her eyes immediately scanned the room, searching—There.

You were slumped at your desk, hoodie pulled over your head, face half-hidden by the fabric. A large coffee cup sat next to you, mostly untouched, condensation forming at the sides. You weren’t talking to anyone. You weren’t even on your phone.

For some reason, that sight made Momo hesitate. She wasn’t used to seeing you like this.

Slowly, she approached, standing awkwardly beside your desk before clearing her throat.

“Hey.”

You flinched slightly, like you hadn’t even noticed her standing there, before exhaling loudly. “God…” you muttered under your breath. “Not you.”

Momo forced a smirk, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Rude. I was so worried about you.”

You let out a weak scoff, still refusing to look at her.

She shifted on her feet, debating her next move before sighing. “Look, I… y'know, regret some things.”

That made you finally glance at her—just a little. “You? Regret?”

Momo rolled her eyes. “Okay, not in the way you’re thinking. But. I may have been an asshole.”

You raised an eyebrow. “May?“

“Fine,” she groaned, “I was an asshole.”

You nodded, satisfied, before looking away again.

A beat of silence.

Then, without thinking, Momo reached out and gently turned your face toward her, thumb resting just under your jaw.

She barely had time to process what she was doing before she saw you—really saw you. The eyebags peeking through your makeup, the slightly smudged mascara, the exhaustion written all over your face.

Her breath hitched. “Damn. You look rough.”

Your glare was immediate, and Momo quickly turned your head back down like she’d seen nothing. “I think it’s best if you just stay like that,” she muttered.

Your arm shot out, smacking her without hesitation. “Dickhead.”

Momo snorted, rubbing her arm. “Okay, okay, I deserved that.”

You flipped her off before taking a sip of your coffee, still sulking.

Momo exhaled, leaning against the desk. “Anyway… I actually came to say I’ll put in real work for the project.”

Your fingers twitched around your cup. “Hah.”

“I mean it.”

You gave her a side glance, still skeptical.

“I’m serious. We’ll work at my place later tonight. I’ll even buy dinner. Snacks too. My treat.”

You bit your lip, debating it, but Momo could tell she had you the second your shoulders relaxed slightly.

“…Fine,” you muttered, almost begrudgingly.

Momo grinned. “There’s that enthusiasm I love.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “This is gonna be hell.”

Momo patted your back, smirking. “Oh, absolutely.”

But for some reason, it didn’t feel as bad anymore.

—

When Momo opened her apartment door, she wasn’t expecting this.

You stood there, dressed casually — oversized hoodie, loose sweatpants, hair lazily tied back. No makeup, no carefully put-together outfit like you usually wore. Just… you.

Momo blinked. What the hell?

She’d always seen you as this organized, almost annoyingly put-together person. But seeing you like this — relaxed, comfortable, a little tired but still somehow… attractive?

What the fuck is wrong with you, Mo.. get a grip..

Momo bit her lip, scolding herself internally before stepping aside to let you in. “Took you long enough,” she muttered.

“You’re lucky I even showed up,” you shot back, toeing off your sneakers.

Momo rolled her eyes and led you to the living room, where her table was cluttered with notebooks, pens, and a half-empty bag of chips. “I already started setting things up,” she said, gesturing to the mess. “But I doubt your perfectionist ass will approve.”

You snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh, definitely not.”

For the next hour, you both actually worked — shocking as that was. The banter never stopped, though.

“Why are your notes written like you’re decrypting ancient text?” you muttered, squinting at her handwriting.

“Maybe if you weren’t illiterate, you’d understand,” Momo shot back, smirking.

“Yeah? Well, maybe if you weren’t lazy, I wouldn’t have to understand your part too.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”

Somehow, despite the endless back and forth, you managed to make progress. Eventually, Momo grabbed the snacks she’d promised, tossing a pack of chips at you.

“Here. Don’t say I never do anything for you,” she said, flopping down beside you.

You caught the bag, tearing it open before popping a chip in your mouth. “Wow,” you drawled. “Such a provider.”

Momo scoffed. “You’re welcome.”

She reached for her own bag, but midway through her snack, she noticed you distractedly flipping through your notes. Without really thinking, she grabbed a chip, held it up, and pressed it to your lips.

You froze.

“…What are you doing?”

“Feeding you,” Momo said like it was obvious.

“I have hands,” you muttered, snatching the chip from her fingers.

“Yeah, but you’re too busy pretending to be a genius.”

“Pretending?!”

“Don’t start crying.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“You’d miss me.”

Neither of you noticed how easy it had become — the teasing, the insults that felt more playful than venomous.

And it didn’t stop there.

For the next few days, it became a routine — meeting at her place, or sometimes on campus, even when there wasn’t anything to work on. Sometimes you’d pretend you *totally* had something important to do just so you had an excuse to hang out longer. And Momo? She didn’t mind.

Actually… she kind of liked it.

Too much.

She started noticing things — like how you scrunched your nose when you pouted, or the way you bit your pen cap when you were focused. And god, that *whiny voice* you used whenever she pushed a joke too far — it was so irritatingly cute, and it stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit.

Momo swore to herself she wouldn’t catch feelings.

But here she was — completely hooked.

And she had no idea how to deal with it.

quieter, something fonder.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Realizing she’d been staring a little too long, Momo cleared her throat and grabbed a bag of snacks from the table, tossing it into your lap.

“Here,” she muttered. “Before you start crying.”

You huffed dramatically, tearing the bag open — but as you reached for a handful of chips, you couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes still lingering on you.

The two of you worked quietly for the next half hour, your occasional sighs and scribbles filling the room. By the time you both finished, the weight of the project finally felt lighter — almost freeing.

“Well,” you exhaled, stretching your arms. “We should submit it now.”

Momo, still scrolling through her computer screen, scoffed. “Nope. We’ll send it tomorrow.”

“What? No, let’s just get it over with,” you insisted.

“It’s better to send it on time,” she argued.

“That’s so dumb. It’s done. Why wait?”

“Because what if something’s wrong? We can double-check it before—”

“Oh my god, Momo.” You groaned. “It’s fine. Just submit it.”

“It’s not fine, and you’re not always right,” she shot back.

“And you’re never right,” you snapped.

The tension built quickly — voices raising, your patience thinning again. For a second, it felt like things were spiraling into yet another full-blown argument.

But then Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll send it.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” she grumbled, opening her email. “I’ll submit this dumb thing now, but you’re turning in the itinerary tomorrow.”

You crossed your arms. “Fine.”

Momo clicked the ‘Send’ button, but as she hovered over the file attachment, you caught a glimpse of her hesitation.

“You should double-check it first,” you muttered.

Momo’s eye twitched. “You just said it was fine.”

“Yeah, but what if you—”

“Oh my god, would you just—”

“Just check it again!” you barked.

“Shut up,” Momo huffed — and suddenly her hand clamped over your mouth.

You froze. Her palm was warm, fingers curling slightly near your jaw, thumb resting just below your cheek. She wasn’t holding you tightly — just enough to stop you from speaking.

It smelled... nice. Clean, faintly floral — her lotion maybe? Your thoughts scrambled for a second before you caught yourself.

What the hell is wrong with you? you scolded yourself.

Momo seemed to snap out of it too, pulling her hand away quickly as if she realized what she'd just done. Neither of you said anything as she finally hit ‘Send.’

“Done,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Thank god that’s over.”

You couldn’t resist. “Aw, you’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“In your dreams,” Momo snorted.

You grinned. “You wish I dreamed about you.”

“Oh, please.”

The room fell into an oddly comfortable silence. The tension from earlier felt... different now. Softer.

“Hey...” Momo spoke up after a moment, her voice quieter than usual. “Thanks.”

You frowned, turning your head. “For what?”

“For... putting up with me,” she muttered, her eyes flickering to her lap. “I know I’ve been... kind of a pain.”

You snorted. “Kind of?”

Momo chuckled under her breath. “Okay... a huge pain.” Her voice softened. “But... I mean it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Was she... being nice?

“Okay... what do you want?” you asked suspiciously.

Momo shook her head. “Nothing, idiot,” she laughed lightly. “I’m serious. You’re... you’re really dedicated. And hardworking. I like that.”

The words lingered in the air. You swallowed hard, feeling a strange warmth crawl up your neck.

Momo’s gaze lingered on yours for a beat too long. She licked her lips nervously, her body shifting just a little closer.

Before you could say anything, she leaned in — and her lips pressed softly against yours.

The kiss was tender at first — soft, almost hesitant — but then something shifted. It deepened, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that caught you off guard. Like she'd been holding herself back for far too long, and now she couldn’t stop.

You knew you should’ve pulled away. Should’ve shoved her back and demanded what the hell she was thinking. But instead... you melted.

Her hand slid to your jaw, fingers curling against your skin as her tongue swiped along your bottom lip. It was fleeting — just a tease — before she suddenly pulled back, her eyes wide in panic.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” Momo stammered, her voice breathless. “I shouldn’t— I didn’t mean— I don’t know why I—”

You didn’t let her finish.

Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, you yanked her back in, crashing your lips against hers once more. This time, there was no hesitation — just heat. The way her fingers dug into your waist, how her breath hitched as you tangled your fingers in her hair... it made your head spin.

Neither of you seemed to care how messy it was, how desperate — how much you both knew you shouldn’t be doing this.

But in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Her lips crashed back onto yours, this time with more urgency—more need. Her hand cupped the side of your neck, thumb grazing your pulse as if she wanted to feel just how fast your heart was racing. You barely registered the way her body shifted until your back hit the couch cushions, her weight pressing down on you.

Momo hovered above you, her knee slipping between your legs, trapping you beneath her as she added a bit of pressure to your core. The warmth of her breath fanned across your lips as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her face was flushed, her pupils dark and blown out.

“Your lips…” she panted softly, her voice low and breathless. “They taste so good.”

Before you could even think of how to respond, she leaned back in, her lips slotting perfectly against yours. Her fingers slid into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. The way she moved — slow yet deliberate — had you spiraling.

You knew this was dangerous. That whatever this was, it could only complicate things.

But when her body pressed closer, her lips claiming yours like she couldn’t get enough… you didn’t fucking care.

Her hands began to messily tug the hem of your t-shirt, slipping under to run her large cold hands on your soft skin, tracing shapes across your stomach.

She planted open mouthed kisses at your neck, each one earning a whine out of you, “Fuck.. keep making those noises, Y/N.” She tested the waters and moved higher from under your shirt, fingertips inches away from the lower part of your breasts.

She moved down to your collarbone, sucking on the skin there, leaving marks you knew you both were going to regret later—it didn’t matter right now though.

“Momo.. take it off..” you stammered out, your voice a fragile whisper that made Momo’s heart race—she held back wanting to ruin you whole.

She finally removed your t-shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor, she took in your bare body, looking at it with primal hunger, an urge to devour you whole.

She unhooked your bra in a swift motion, cursing under her breath at the sight of your breasts, how perfect, how soft they looked—she knew they would be even better in her hands—she cupped one of them, squeezing it slightly, you jolted forward and squeezed your eyes shut, she let out a tiny chuckle “So sensitive huh, baby?”

Momo continues to explore your chest, her hands roaming over the soft mounds. She leans down to capture one of your nipples in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hardened peak. Her other hand kneads the other breast, enjoying the feeling of your perfect tits in her hands.

You moaned loudly at the feeling of her warm wet tongue, fingers automatically going to tangle into her blonde hair, soft curses slipping out of your lips as you slowly grinded your core on her thigh that was still positioned inbetween herlegs, Momo’s eyes practically rolled back once she heard my moans for the first time, that urge of hers to lose control slowly coming out.

Momo's body reacts to your moans, her heart rate increasing and her breathing becoming heavier. She releases your nipple with a soft pop and looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Her hands continue to squeeze and caress your chest, leaving red marks on your delicate skin. "Fuck..."

You whined in eagerness, pushing Momo’s head back into your chest—the tug was firm and desperate as your lip quivered in desperation, you wanted—you needed—her mouth.

“Needy girl..” she happily obliged your desperate tug, diving back onto your chest with enthusiasm. She alternates between your nipples, lavishing one with her tongue while pinching and teasing the other with her fingers. A grin spreads over her lips as she feels your pussy grinding urgently against her thigh.

Your lips shaped into a pout as you pressed deeper on her thigh, hands reaching up to grab Momo’s shoulders, nails digging into her skin through her shirt. “Fucks sake—please, momo.” you bit back, impatient and desperate. Momo smiled agaisnt your skin before nipping at it slightly, she pauses her teasing and looks up at you with a seductice glint in her eye. "Say please nicely, and maybe I'll give you what you want."

Fucking god.

She sucked and swirled her tongue hard and you snapped, “Oh fuck you—“ she cut you off my pressing deeper into your core, her tensed thigh pressing down on your desperate cunt, you threw your head back and moaned. “Such a dirty mouth, Y/N, do better.”

“Mmph—fuck off.” you spat out, though your body was reactive to every touch, every grope, every pull. Momo smirked, finding your stubbornness surprisingly arousing. She grinds her thigh harder against your pussy, making you yelp. "Are you always this difficult to fuck?" She asks in small pants, nipping at one of your breasts.

You gave in, a tiny whimper escaping your lips as you cried out in a shaky, soft voice, “Please, Momo..” her face softened into a satisfied grin, she has you right where she wants you. She begins increasing the pressure, rubbing agaisnt your clit with a smug look on her face “That’s better.”

“I need it..” your chest heaved as your nails dug deeper into the fabric of her shirt, rubbing against her thigh more frantically, “Yeah? What do you need?”, she tensed her thigh muscles, she knew you were soaked, your cunt warm on her thigh, she nipped at your breasts softly. Your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape as she rolled your nipple inbetween her fingers, “Mmph—touch me, please..”

Momo gives in and finally slips her hand into your pants, cupping your dripping wet pussy, the warmth, the smell of musk, how wet it is—it’s driving her insane. "Is this what you need?" you frantically nodded as you bucked your hips forward into her hand, Momo’s eyes darkening with lust as she felt your wet cunt grind against her palm, she slowly slipped a single finger inside—letting you feel her length, she gasped at how easily her fingers entered “Gosh, Y/N.. you’re so fucking wet.”, she teased with a smirk as she pumped her single digit inside you.

You whined, “Stop teasing..”, every little pump just from her singular finger felt so good, lost in the moment, you closed your eyes and furrowed your brows out of frustration. "And if I don't?" Momo purred, her voice husky with desire. She spread your pussy lips with her fingers before adding a second digit. Hearing your little whines and moans was like a symphony to her ears. "What are you going to do about it?" she spat in mock pity.

Your voice cracked as you let out another moan as she hit all the right spots “Please!”, you sobbed out, you were sensitive, your face flushed all the way down to your neck—you grew impatient by the second, that cocky smirk on her face as she pleasured your pussy pissed—and aroused—you off even more.

Momo’s forearm and bicep flexed with every pump, licking her lips as she pressed down harder on your clit with her thumb, your pussy gripping her fingers for release, “You’re so fucking cute when you beg like this.” she watched as you threw your head back, tits bouncing slightly at every pump.

Gosh this was embarassing.

Not was she your senior, but she was the person you’d hate till the world ended—the one you’d swore you’d rather eat a thousand shard of glass before looking her way. Yet here she was, knuckles deep in your pussy making you feel good.

You moaned before speaking through gritted teeth “Mmph—so fucking embarassing.” you locked eyes with her before rolling them, eyebrows furrowing as she curled her fingers “Oh? but you’re loving every second of this aren’t you?”

“I told you to stop fucking teas—“ her hand came down and snapped on your thigh, the motion leaving a harsh red mark, you yelled at the pain, the stinging becoming somehow arousing, “Then stop talking back you whiny bitch.” she starts finger-fucking you rapidly, her hand a blur between your legs. She can feel your pussy starting to tighten around her fingers.

You whimpered in reply as you began grinding on her hand, puffy clit grinding agaisnt the palm of her hand—momo watched. The sound of your wet pussy squishing against her palm is driving her insane with desire. She leans in close, biting down on your earlobe. “You gonna cum, Y/N-ie?”

You nodded, lip quivering as you tried to speak up, but it felt impossible. Without a warning, she pulled out, a whine leaving your throat at the empty feeling, you locked eyes with Momo, who was smiling against your flushed and sweaty skin. She teases your nipples with her tongue, biting and sucking gently before moving lower. She can feel your body trembling with need, and it turns her on even more. “Momo?..” your voice shook again, almost like a cold tremble.

Momo hums against your skin, blowing cool air over your nipples before sucking them again. She loves having this effect on you, absolutely loves seeing you so desperate and needy. "What is it, sweetheart?" She murmurs, trailing kisses down to your navel.

“What are you?—Shit!!” you threw your head back as she latched onto your cunt, her warm tongue tasting your pussy for the first time, she lost control. As soon as Momo's lips touch your wet folds, she loses all it. She hooks your legs over her shoulders and buries her face between your thighs, licking and sucking furiously. She can feel you convulsing against her face, but she doesn't stop.

You beg and scream out her name, the people in the dorms next to you probably hearing the commotion, but you didn’t care—atleast in the moment—with shaky hands you latched onto Momo’s hair, tugging and pulling her head closer to your puffy cunt, the dorsal bump of her nose bridge rubbing against your clit.

Momo moans against your wet pussy as you pull her closer, the sounds of your screams spurring her on. Her tongue thrusts in and out of you rapidly, occasionally flicking up to circle your clit. The smell of your arousal fills her senses, making her drunk with desire. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as you felt that familiar knot form in your stomach, “Fuck, fuck fuck—Momo i’m gonna cum.” She groaned against your pussy, her tongue working faster and harder. Feeling your body tensing up, your thighs clamping down on her head as you get closer to the edge. She doesn't let up, determined to make you cum all over her face.

“Shit.. Momo i’m—mmph..i’m cumming, baby—cumming!” your eyes rolled back as you jumped her face frantically, body convulsing and baco arching, coming undone on her tongue as your hands tugged her hair tighter, knuckles turning white. She flattens her tongue against your clit and holds it there, lapping at your juices as you cum hard against her mouth.

She helped you ride your high, sitting back on her heels, a dorkish-satisfied smile on her face as she looks at you. Her mouth is shiny with your juices, her bangs stuck to her forehead from the sweat and your arousal. “You’re so stupid,” you muttered with a suppressed smile as you pulled her in for a tiny peck she gladly reciprocated.

As she pulled back she nervously rambled as she tenderly brushed your sweat-drenched hair out of your face, her brows furrowed with concern. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? A towel? Did I... go too—“ you pressed a kiss on her lips to shut her up. “I’m fine, just get me some clean clothes and let me rest, ‘kay?..” you croaked groggily as you caressed her cheek, and without any word, she ran off, ready to take care of you no matter the circumstance.

—

The morning had been... weird. Not bad — just off.

Momo barely said a word when you left her apartment, but that smug little smile never left her face. Every time you glanced at her, there it was — like she knew something you didn’t.

Walking into the lecture hall, you spotted Chaeyoung near the professor’s desk, watching her paper get torn apart with red ink.

Perfect.

You grinned and wiggled your brows. “So... you and Tzuyu, huh?” you teased as she glanced at her work partner who towered over her.

“Get lost,” Chaeyoung muttered, rolling her eyes — but she was smiling.

She turned to leave, but paused, her eyes flicking to your neck.

Her smile dropped. She stepped back, staring harder.

“Yah…” she muttered, then laughed under her breath. “Wear something more neck-covering next time, okay?*”

Your stomach sank.

Your hand shot up, fingers brushing over your skin — and that’s when you felt it.

You turned to Momo.

She was watching, smug as ever. The second your eyes met, her grin widened.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

“Oh no,” Momo teased, voice low. “Don’t hide it now.”

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