Romy was just the shy, sweater-drowning girl with soft cheeks and a bad habit of giggling at everything you said. She clung to her sleeves, fidgeted with her hair, and blushed furiously whenever you so much as looked at her.

That changed the day you told her she was pretty. She went red from head to toe, stammering before blurting out

"U r prettier than the stars."

And just like that, she was yours. Completely, hopelessly yours.

From then on, she made sure everyone knew it. "Mine, mine, mine," she’d mumble into your shoulder, into your lips, into your skin. She never let go of your hand, never stopped touching you—whether it was playing with your hair, clinging to your arm, or crawling into your lap like she belonged there. Which, to be fair, she did.

Romy loved pushing you. But what she loved even more was when you snapped.She wanted you rough, desperate, starving for her. She wanted you to grip her hips hard enough to bruise, to pin her down when she got too needy, to whisper filth into her ear while she trembled underneath you. She wanted to be ruined. __

Present day

It was supposed to be a normal grocery run. You, Romy, and the chaotic army of cats she had gradually adopted over time—cats with names like Mr. Whiskerface, Chonkzilla, and Sir Pukes-a-Lot—needed supplies.

But the cashier girl at the store had other plans.

She was smiling too much.

Cashier Girl : "Oh, you have such nice hair"

she cooed, twirling a strand of her own.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before Romy grabbed your arm.The next second, Romy snapped.

Romy : "Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to my man like that? Smiling like some desperate wh-re, flipping your hair—what, you think you’re cute? Think he’d actually look at you? Pathetic."

You had to physically pull her away, dragging her into the car. The moment you sat down, she climbed into your lap, straddling you, arms locked around your neck.

Romy : "She was f-cking flirting with you, Tell me I’m prettier. Right now."