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queen-of-the-avengers · 2 months

Text

500

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're given a gift that will allow you to help others. You try to use this gift for good and you never make anyone feel like a charity case. However, when you meet Bucky Barnes, you know you have to do something or he'll live the rest of his life in pain.

Squares Filled: graveyard (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

The thing you love most about New York is not everywhere is like the city. If you travel far enough outside of it, it turns into any normal town like any other state has. You’re on your way to visit your parents at the New York State Veterans Cemetery since your father was a soldier in World War II. Your mother requested to be buried alongside him even though she was never in the military, and they let her.

It’s a four-hour drive from the city where you live, so you take this moment to yourself and think about your purpose on Earth. About once a month, you get like this because you’re not normal. You were born with the ability to see people’s pain above their heads in numbers ranging from zero to sixty. One is not in any pain at all and sixty is the worst pain a person can be in.

You’ve been to plenty of hospitals around New York, so you’ve seen people who are in a tremendous amount of pain, but no one has ever been above sixty. You’ve been on this Earth for thirty-three years and never have you seen someone with a sixty-one above their head. Why were you born with this ability? You’re not sure but you know you can do a whole lot of good with it.

It’s why you became a licensed therapist as well as a social worker. You take on jobs that will help as many people as you can. While you can’t heal anyone physically like a nurse or a doctor, you can help with their emotional and mental trauma which is where most of the pain lies. You’re the only person without a number above your head but it’s likely your powers don’t work on you.

You look at the taxi driver and see the number twenty-five above his head. He’s seen some stuff in his life, that’s for sure. He must be a taxi driver to get away from it all, to just coast through life without having to deal with a lot of stress. You’re guessing but it’s not like you’re going to ask the man what kind of trauma he’s been through in his life.

He drops you off at the cemetery and drives away once you’ve paid him. You like to spend hours with your parents and tell them all that you’ve seen and the people you helped, and that usually takes a few hours at the least. You clutch your mother’s favorite flowers and walk into the cemetery, keeping your head down out of respect.

You sit down right across from their graves and break the bouquet into two so both your parent can have flowers.

“I helped a teenager last week escape his abusive parents,” you begin. “They didn’t care about him and often used him as an outlet for their rage. His pain was at a thirty. Thirty. At age fifteen. I went to go visit him in his new home and his pain was at a twenty-seven. He’s healing and I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I wish you guys were here to see this. It’s amazing to see someone’s number go down because of something I did.”

You look up and scan the area when you notice a man standing by himself near one of the graves. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you have to brace yourself on the ground so you don’t fall over. The man isn’t saying anything to the grave, just standing over it. Above his head is a whopping five hundred. If you saw someone with an eighty, you’d be floored. The fact that this man has a five hundred over his head… how is he still alive? It’s clearly not physical wounds that hurt him.

Who is this man? Even the most depressed people never go above sixty. You once got involved with a woman who was passed around in the sex trafficking ring and she didn’t even go above sixty. This man has five hundred.

Five hundred.

He says something to the grave before leaving, and you’re too shocked to get up and follow him. What would you even say to him? He had to have been broken down to the very last piece only to be put back together. Over and over again. That’s probably why he’s at five hundred. You don’t want him to feel like a charity case but you have to know that man. To think he’s walking around in such profound pain brings you pain.

“Mama, I think I found someone who might need my help. I’ll let you know how it goes next week.”

Since the cemetery is four hours away from the city, you’re hoping that he is from around here. You spend the next several days walking around Central Park just watching for that five hundred to show up again. You know exactly who the man was. You got a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the cemetery, and you knew he’d never leave New York. This is his home.

You know who he is and after some research on him, you know why he has a five hundred above his head. The following Saturday, you’re walking around Central Park in hopes of seeing this man again. You’d like to think because he has a five hundred, he has his humanity back. He’s feeling the guilt of everything he’s done so you know he isn’t dangerous.

Two women job past you laughing at what one of them said, and you notice how one of the women has a two above her head while the other has a fifteen. Maybe the fifteen did something her friend doesn’t know about and the guilt is starting to eat her alive. A young couple is sitting on the grass with a picnic between them, and both of them only have a five above their head. They must be in love. An elderly couple walks past them with both of them having a forty above their heads. Guess love doesn’t always work out for people in the end.

Central Park gets around six thousand daily visitors, and none of them have a number above sixty. You’ve traveled across the country for your job and non one has ever surpassed sixty. Not until him. You walk further into the park where a cluster of benches are, and you stop when you see that thick five hundred number again.

There he is. Sitting all alone.

Now’s your chance. You walk up to him who barely acknowledges your presence.

“May I sit here?”

He looks up and sees the book in your hands thinking you’re going to mind your business and read silently. He doesn’t say anything but nods so you sit across from him and open your book. You pretend like you’re reading it when really, you’re looking at him from over the top of your book. He has gloves on his hands and it’s not wintertime yet.

There’s a reason why he is wearing gloves.

“My name is Y/N. What’s yours?” you ask gently.

“Bucky.”

“That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?”

“My middle name is Buchanan. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You go back to reading only to put the book down several minutes later. “Do you live around here? Or are you visiting someone?”

“No, not visiting someone.”

He’s clearly not into the conversation but you’re not going to give up. He’s not another project. You’re genuinely interested in getting to know him. Sure, his number enticed you to want to talk to him but you’re going to treat him like you would anyone else. It’s going to take a lot more than one conversation for him to open up to you.

The next day, you find him sitting in the same spot with the same five hundred above his head. You walk over to him and don’t ask to sit down, you just do. He lifts his head and notices the book first before looking into your eyes.

“Hi, Bucky. Do you mind if I sit here again?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

Today, you let him get used to your company. You don’t say anything to him except for when you part ways at the end of the day. You want him to be comfortable around you otherwise, he won’t talk to you. Every day after that, you keep sitting across from him reading the same book, allowing him to feel comfortable around you.

“So, what’s your book about?” he asks on the fourth day of sitting across from him.

“It’s called The Maze Runner. I know, it’s for an audience a bit younger than me, but I love the movies. It’s about a young man who wakes up with no memory of who he is and is stuck with a group of boys who also have no memory of who they are. They’re stuck in this maze-like area and they have to try and figure their way out of it that no one has ever survived. There are three movies but there are five books.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to read it.”

“Here,” you close your book and hand it over to him, “take this.”

“No, that’s yours.”

“This is my fifth time reading the series.”

“I can’t just take your book.”

“Then consider it a loan. Give it back when you’re done. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to come and talk to you again.”

Bucky smiles for the first time since you’ve met him, and God, what a beautiful smile it is.

“Thank you.”

“Look, I have to get going, but here is my number.” You write down your number on a spare piece of paper and hand it over. “If you ever want another good book recommendation or the second book in the series, give me a call. Or, you know, if you just want to talk.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You don’t have to look back to know he’s watching you walk away. The next time you see him is a couple of days later. He hasn’t used your number which is fine because you don’t want to rush anything with him.

“Did you finish it?” you ask and sit across from him.

“Yeah, I did. It’s really good.”

“I brought the second one just in case.”

You two exchange the books and he smiles at you.

“Thank you. Would you like to go on a walk with me? Just around Central Park.”

“Sure.”

A walk around the park usually takes two hours if you’re leisurely enough about it, and there is no rush to go anywhere else. You want to ask Bucky a million things about his life and where he came from but you don’t pry into his life. You can get that information online if you want to, but you want this relationship to grow naturally.

Though, you’re not sure you understand why someone like him can be this sad about who he is.

“So, this might be a weird question but how do you feel?”

“Why is that a weird question? I’m fine.”

“It’s just… you seem so sad sometimes.”

“Honestly? There’s not a whole lot to be happy about these days.”

“You’re alive, right? That’s a pretty damn good day to me.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Well, if you weren't, I wouldn’t have met you. I think you’re a great guy.”

“That’s because you don’t know who I am. If you did, you’d be smart to run,” he sighs.

“I know who you are. I know about the Winter Soldier. I lived in DC when everything happened with Steve.” He looks at you and uncertainty swims in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve read about what you have done. Hell, I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It doesn’t?” he asks with a thick voice filled with emotion.

“Come on, there are a lot of people worse than you like child molesters and rapists. On that spectrum, you’re not so bad. What makes a person bad is the fact that they know what they’re doing is wrong and still continue to do it. When someone wakes up and stops doing what made them bad, that’s not being bad. When someone is manipulated into doing bad things but doesn’t do those things anymore, that’s not being bad. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckles back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for the walk but I need to go now. I have to get to work. Can I take you out? You know, a place that’s not Central Park? I can show you my favorite bookstore with books like The Maze Runner.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Great. I look forward to it.”

You start to walk away from him knowing he is watching you walk off. When you get to the busy street, you look back and notice something that brings a bright smile to your face. That five hundred above his head? It’s now at four hundred and ninety-nine.

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voxsmistress · 5 months

Text

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part NINE

PHHEWWW this seems a bit of a filler but I wanted to show you some little moments she had with the Vee's - after all not everything can be big dramatic happenings - how else will we get to the good stuff if they dont build some trust together ;)

Plus what do you think is Y/n's surprise?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

It had been a week since that last meeting with the Vee’s and it had flown by. You were singing at the clubs, having meetings with Velvette to get your measurements done correctly, being more social on Sinstagram and other socials, you had a few interviews with small time magazines promoting you. You were a busy bee. And you loved it!

Tonight, you were going to a club opening that had asked you if you wanted a part time contract there as a singer – before you agreed you said you’d like to see what the night life was like first, which they then invited you to their opening night. Once you had the date set, Vel had been nonstop harassing you with pictures, sketches and videos of her designs and then letting you know all the progress when you chose the outfit you wanted. Sometimes you caught Vox or Valentino in the background of her videos; both rolling their eyes dramatically or pulling faces making you laugh. Or sometimes they took over the video and had a little chat with you pushing Velvette out the screen completely.

It wasn’t just Vel that you were in constant contact with either: Vox had taken to messaging you every day letting you know that certain media outlets wanted to talk to you (after he ‘persuaded’ them) about an interview or have you on their show. He also, a few days after you complained that your phone had such a crap camera, sent you a brand-new state of the art VoxTek phone. You laughed for ages when you turned it on as he set the background as himself standing proud with that charming grin of his. No matter how many times you tried to change the background, after a few hours it always switched back to that photo so after a few days you just left it.

Valentino, he was a bit more subtle than the other two. Sending selfies of himself and the other two on SinsChat with flirty little messages to you, a few text messages here and there but nothing too ‘Valentinoish’. When you mentioned that you were going to the club opening, he actually suggested some ideas to talk about if you were stopped by the paparazzi. Which you doubt would happen but better to have the ideas and not use them, than need them and not have them. Right?

You were in the elevator heading up to Velvette’s floor, you had a few hours to get ready and she was already in boss mode ordering everyone about when she phoned you this morning waking you up. You could only imagine what she was like now. Which is why you have brought the coffee: one for her, one for you, and two more in case the other two appear. They seemed to have a habit of appearing when you and Vel were having a meeting, usually causing Vel to have to kick them both out as they tried their best to distract you.

Striding onto Vel’s floor you hide an amused smile at everyone running around like headless chickens and Velvette in the middle orchestrating the mayhem. Your phone buzzing in your pocket distracted you, walking over to one of the tables with no fabric on – you were not risking your undead life by getting coffee near Velvette’s designs – you pop the coffees, your purse and jacket on top. Yanking your phone out your leggings leg pocket (thank you Vel for that genius invention) you spy Angel’s face pop up on a notification. Pressing it you quickly read the message, frown appearing on your face. He was letting you down tonight, so much for your plus one. Now you think about it, all this week you hadn’t see hide nor hair of him and his usual constant messaging was getting less and less. Hmm. Reminding yourself to call him tomorrow to speak about it you pop your phone back in your leggings pocket. Okay no plus one, you can totally do the opening by yourself. Wouldn’t be the first time.

A hand grips your wrist and swirls you into a seat. No longer surprised at Velvette’s ways you just get comfy and sit up straighter in your seat. After the third or fourth time she’d done this to you, it’s easier to just accept the gentle manhandling.

“Finally, you are here. You know you were meant to be here an hour ago, right?” She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you, lips pulled down in a scowl. Yanking her coffee from the holder you hold it up as a peace offering, your best sorry expression across your face.

Taking the cup off you, a quick sip later she hummed under her breath before smirking: “fine you are forgiven! But do it again and I’ll start cutting that pretty hair shorter and shorter – an inch for every hour you are late” she threatens, swirling away to grab another sinner to start on your hair while she got her make up out ready. She had determined she was getting you ready for this club opening before you even thought about how you were going to get ready.

You closed your eyes as they got to work, the sinner working on your hair was sectioning it off and placing it in large curlers to make bouncy waves in your waist length hair and Vel was cleansing your face. At ease you barely notice anyone else until you smell the distinct aroma of a certain cigarette.

“Good evening, Valentino” you murmur, completely docile because of the fingers combing through your hair. You didn’t realise you liked it so much, not remembering if it felt this way when you were human or if it was a new thing now you were in Hell.

“Evening Princessa, it looks like you’re getting all the works tonight”, opening your right eye you smile at the Moth Overlord. Over this past week you’ve settled into a more relaxed relationship with each other. Less threatening and overbearing sexual innuendos and more flirty banter, which you could cope with.

“Yes, Vel was determined she was the best one to get me ready even though I offered to do my hair and make up myself” a small tap to your nose with a brush made you scrunch it.

“Well darlin’, if you want something done right, sometimes you just gotta do it yourself!”

Humming in agreement you close your eyes again at the feeling of the sinner sorting your hair, sighing happily. Or you did until you heard a snarl and the fingers stopped combing through your hair: “enough. Fuck off!” Blinking in shock you look up to see the sinner running quickly away and a glaring Velvette stood with her hands on her hips. She flashed you a smile when she caught your bemused stare, “she was taking the piss bae, Val is gonna finish off your hair. It only needs a few more curlers put in and then to set”. Hmm … a smile tugged at your lips from her behaviour. Was she jealous that you were enjoying someone else touching your hair?

“Like you said, if you want it done right, you got to do it yourself. My hair is in your talented hands Val” you close your eyes again at Velvette’s instruction as she starts on your eye make-up.

Fingers raked through your hair that hadn’t yet been pinned up and curled, nails scratching at your scalp caught you off guard as a moan nearly escaped your lips. Okay. You learn something new about your body every day. Even in Hell. Clearing your throat when you hear him lowly chuckle you try to distract yourself from the luscious feeling that he was pulling from you by playing with your hair.

“There’s a coffee on the table for you Val if you want one. I know you are usually up late with shoots so figured the caffeine fix might be what you need” you tell him, nose twitching when Vel turns and her hair tickles it.

“You are so kind to us, mi cariño” humming your agreement you allowed them both to work, chuckling every so often as the bitched and picked at each other. A week or two ago you would have thought they’d hated each other the way they spoke – now you realised this was just how they showed each other they cared. Toxic and not your style but it worked for them so who were you to stand in the way and judge.

You must have dozed off as the next time you opened your eyes Velvette was putting the last touches to your make up and Val was taking the curlers out of your hair. Closing your eyes you felt yourself being blasted with a fuck tonne of hair spray. Not a hair would be out of place and your make up would not be smudged. You’d be surprised if you could move your own face with the amount they used.

“Now who is your plus one to this opening Princessa?” Opening your eyes you look in shock at yourself in the mirror that a random sinner was holding in front of you. The demon who looked back at you from the reflection looked like some kind of Siren. Velvette and Valentino worked miracles. In awe of their skills, you mumble how your riding solo tonight as Angel cancelled on you, missing the look they both shared behind your back as you twisted to see how the waves rolled down your back.

“Guys you are miracle workers, thank you so much! I don’t think I’ve ever looked this good even when I was alive!” Spinning in your seat you clap your hands giddily as Velvette giggles with you.

“Now for the outfit babes, then we’ve gotta get some photos of you posing before you go”, pushing you towards the dressing room you spy Valentino aggressively typing on his phone. Strange. But too excited to put on your clothes to give it another thought you barge into the room. A small shriek of excitement escaped your lips as you saw it finally. A black feather bustier with accents of the pink that you are starting to be known for, high waisted black leather pants which flared at the bottom, your favourite black stilettos with the pink bottoms were waiting for you. Pushing Velvette out the room to get ready you wafted away her complaints that she wanted to help you get ready saying you wanted it to be a surprise when you finally were all done up.

Carefully putting on the bustier, wriggling into it into place making sure it hugged your curves and synched your waist in but didn’t expose anything you didn’t want exposing. No nip-slips here people! The leather pants were a little easier to put on but again there was a lot of wriggling and jumping to get them completely up. And men thought we looked sexy putting these outfits on? The heels were the easiest thing to put on thank Lucifer. Slipping on the black choker you check that the little pink sapphire crystal was dangling correctly at the front of your throat, matching bracelet and ring then added. A quick spritz of your favourite perfume on your neck and wrists you were finally ready. Turning around to look in the mirror you grinned happily. Never in a million years did you ever think you would look this good.

Opening the door, you step out into the studio. Velvette and Valentino both talking about something heatedly together with their heads turned so you can’t read their lips. Hmm. Clearing your throat at them both to get their attention. Velvette was the first to look at you, beaming she claps her hands together as Valentino just licked his lips in a flirtatious manner.

“GIRL! You look AMAZING!! Right, we’ve gotta get some pics ready for your Sinstagram – you are gonna be trending tonight!” Suddenly there was a flurry of movement around you, lights blinding you as you were shoved in front of a backdrop. A photographer appeared from behind a big camera, him and Velvette directed you how and where to stand. Blinking in amusement you give your best seductive smile from over your shoulder to the camera, catching Valentino and Velvette watching you intently. Both of their gazes dark, Valentino was puffing aggressively on his cigarette. Blushing at their attention you lower your gaze before winking at them both. Screw it, you were going to have fun tonight! A few more photos turned into hundreds with you in different positions, places and sitting on different things. Your last set was you lying against the pink (you noticed this was a new addition in Vels studio) chaise lounge, back arched and your hair rippling down your back.

When you finally finished with the photographer you grabbed your phone and took a few selfies of yourself while you still had the light. Velvette appeared at your side, pulling your phone down a little you both took a few cute selfies together until a huff was heard from behind you. Smirking at the pouting Overlord you pull him closer by his hand.

“Come on you big baby, you’re gonna have to take the photos though as you’ve got the longest arms” you tease. Velvette clutching your arm on your one side and Valentino with his arms wrapped around your waist on the other you took a few selfies, laughing at how some of them turned out. Though you were having a blast with them both you couldn’t help but miss Vox’s sarcastic comments and charming smile. Shaking that thought from your head you check the time and squeak. It was time to get moving!

Thanking them both for helping you get ready and promising Velvette you would take loads of photos tonight you grab your purse and phone – glancing at the lone coffee left on the table you sigh a little under your breath. It woulda been nice to have seen Vox’s reaction to your outfit. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts. Jeez y/n get a grip! Walking to the elevator you miss the smirks crossing Vel and Valentino’s faces. If you had, you’d have known you were walking into a big surprise.

Taglist:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzler @martinys-world @rosiethevoxobesser

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anjaelle · 1 year

Note

Hii I’m in loveeee with your writing I was wondering if you could write a Dave Lizewski x bimbo reader fic?

Oooh this sounds fun. I had to ruminate on this a bit, but I think I got it.

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Bimbo!Reader

Rating: She's tame

Word Count: 1.3K

He was staring again. Every time you turned to look at him, he would quickly avert his eyes to the front of the room. In confusion, you turned to look behind you, only to see the blank wall of the classroom. You looked back at him and found him staring straight ahead like he'd been caught doing something bad.

You pulled your phone out of your bag and opened the front facing camera to check to see if you forgot to properly blend your makeup again. Or maybe you had crumbs on your face.

It didn't look like you had anything on your face. Though you did think you could use a re-up on gloss, and maybe a touch-up on your brows. You accidentally left your makeup bag in your dorm, and you kept losing all of your backup purse makeup, so all you had was a lip balm and school stuff. You supposed that you could use this as an excuse to do a quick drugstore run across the street to pick up another backup makeup kit. But you also felt like you'd be missing out on the sushi buffet in the dining hall if you got there too late. You hadn't had sushi in a long time, it would've been a shame to miss it. Then again you could always order it from that one spot you went to with that one guy. What was his name again? Something with a "F"--

"Hello?" The professor said, addressing you and pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised your brows in surprise, and smiled sweetly.

"Hi!"

Your professor tapped her chin with a beautifully manicured nail and looked you over with a funny look on her face. "Your presentation topic for next week?"

"Oh!" You said, looking down at your notes. "Well, I might talk a little about how hard influencing is and how it's actually harder than a 9-5 job. I'm still deciding. What do you think, professor?"

There were a few whispers in the class as she thought hard on the question. At least that's what you thought she was doing.

"Why don't you workshop that and get back to me tomorrow?" She finally said, turning away from you and moving onto another classmate.

You pouted at yet another presentation subject being shot down and made a note in the margins of your notebook to do just that. You hated going to her office hours, because you felt like you could never really do anything right.

When class let out, you pulled your phone out to text your friends about your change of plans tomorrow, when you felt a gentle touch on your elbow and turned to find Lizewski. Knowing that he was quiet and always a little bit stuttery, you smiled politely and gave him your full attention.

"Hi, how are you?"

"H-Hey," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Uh...I saw that you've been having a bit of a hard time with our media class."

A few people passed by the two of you in the hallway and greeted you but shot a curious look his way.

"It's so bad isn't it?" You frowned, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "I'm literally so great at most Social Media outlets, I don't understand why this is so hard. I mean...it's all the same shit."

He nodded, wide eyed and eager as always, "You're so right."

"And I'm trying really hard, but I just can't get it."

"I can help!" He blurted out. "Only if you want. I mean, you probably don't need my help. But I'd be happy to, if you want."

"You'd help me?" You asked, genuinely touched. "I don't know if I can pay you much, but how much do you want?"

"You don't have to pay me, come on." He dropped his eyes to his sneakers and shifted his weight on his feet, "We've known each other since middle school."

This time your eyes widened in surprise, "We have?"

This time it was his turn to look at you in surprise and confusion, "You went to my Bar Mitzvah."

"I did?" Then you thought about it, "I only remember going to one, and it was this boy named David."

He let out a short laugh and nodded, "Yes, that was me."

"David?! But everyone calls you Lizewski! That's your last name?" He nodded again and you gasped. Your whole world turned upside down. Without thinking you pulled him into a tight hug, "It's so nice to see you again, David! I thought you moved away in high school!"

"No," he said against your shoulder, "I just grew my hair out. And got taller. And you can call me Dave, or David, or Lisewski. Whatever you want."

You pulled away from the hug with a huge grin, and you reached out to readjust his glasses which sat crookedly on his face. Then you looked him over, trying to see the skinny thirteen year old you remembered in the grown man in front of you. You could almost see it. If he cut his hair shorter, and lost about a foot of height, he'd totally look the same. You grasped his shoulders in appreciation.

"Well this is wonderful! I've never had a friend for longer than 3 years before!"

As you walked side by side across campus, you could feel people staring like you had three heads. After the fourth set of eyes on you, you nudged Dave with your elbow.

"Do I have something on my face?" You tilted your head from side to side so he could examine you properly, and he shook his head.

"No, why?"

"People keep staring at me." You frowned, "It's kind of weird."

Dave said nothing at first, but looked around to see the evidence of your suspicion and sighed. "I think it's because you're hanging out with me."

You snorted, "That can't be it. That's so silly."

He kicked a small rock down the footpath and hummed in disagreement, "Is it? I mean...you're you. I'm me. We don't really hang out. I think people are used to seeing you with guys from...Sigma Alpha Epsilon"

You still didn't get it, and you crinkled your nose in disgust at the mention of the name.

"I don't talk to them. They're losers," you shuddered again, "They all have a weird obsession with skulls too. Have you ever seen those skulls with the blue stripe down the middle? They all have them on their trucks. It's so weird."

You watched him raise a single brow as he kicked the rock further down the path, "Are you talking about The Punisher's symbol?"

Before you could ask, he showed you a picture on his phone and you nodded.

"Yeah that's it! What's The Punisher? Is that, like, a band?"

He chuckled, "It's a comic book character and his symbol gets misused a lot. He's a vigilante."

You frowned, thinking of why someone would choose to do something like that. That seemed kind of mean.

"Well can you really see me hanging out with a bunch of guys who like vigilantes?"

For some reason, Dave's step seemed to falter, and he peered at you curiously, "Oh. Are you--do you think vigilantes are bad?"

There was a hint of poorly disguised panic in his voice.

You were confused about why he was confused. The answer was obvious.

"Vigils are a good thing," you said, matter-of-factly. You were surprised that you had to break this down to someone as smart as him. "Sometimes people have vigils for their dead grandmas and their pets, and stuff. Someone who's anti-vigils is obviously not a good person."

Dave gave you a long, strange look and laughed. Like, actually laughed. You didn't understand what was so funny about being pro-vigils. You felt like that wasn't exactly a controversial opinion. Were you on the wrong side of history this whole time? Were vigils actually bad?

"Are they bad for the environment or something? Like, the candles?" You squinted at him. He rushed to ease your worries with an extended hand.

"No! No, it's--vigilantes aren't people who are anti-vigils. They beat up bad people."

Oh.

"What a weird name to have for that," You admitted rolling the word over in your brain. Then you brightened at the memory of something, "Hey there was a guy back home that was like that! Kick-Ass! Do you remember him?"

He said nothing for a moment, but shrugged in response.

"Yeah, kinda."

"All the girls in our grade were obsessed with him," you continued, fishing through your bag for your dorm key. "At first, we thought it was that one weird guy who used to try and sell us coke from the trunk of his car down the street from our school. But one girl said that he saved her dad from getting jumped, and he was apparently, like, young. At least college aged."

"Ha," Dave simply said, "Maybe. I kind of remember people thinking it was someone from our school, though. Someone most people wouldn't even really expect, because it'd be super hard to keep a low profile. Someone who's probably super strong and really cool, even though most people don't know it."

You suddenly giggled, "What if it was that guy Todd Haynes?"

Dave stumbled over his own feet and shot his hand out to steady himself.

"You know who Todd Haynes is?"

"Yeah, I know him. He was in my gym class!"

"He's my best friend, I've known him my whole life. I'm--shocked that you know him." You brightened at the new information.

"I didn't know Todd had friends! You sure are full of surprises today." He stared at you again. For a super long time. You weren't sure what was going on in his brain. You touched your cheek, "Again with the staring. I think you're lying. I definitely have something on my face."

#dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #jaelle writes

2K notes · View notes

whoreforjisung · 4 months

Text

Pervy Neighbor Jisung Pt.2 ✨

Content/tags/warnings: smut / jisungxfem reader / perv!jisung / reader is a little bit of a perv too / masturbation(m,f) / “noona” / mentions of other members / drug use / panty stealing / cum eating / switch!jisung / switch!reader / mutual pining

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: Since a lot of people seemed to enjoy my first one-shot, I decided to continue the story in multiple parts! Constructive criticism as well as requests are welcome! Next part will include the house-warming party 👀

Not proofread, all characters are only used for the purpose of face-claims and do not reflect real-life actions and behaviors of people involved

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+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+* 🐿️

It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and Jisung has, quite frankly, run out of material. As much as he adored that picture he snapped through your window of your delectable ass presenting itself to him, there were only so many scenarios he could logistically work with- his favorite being one of the first he conjured up, with you inviting him over during a yoga session on your balcony. He was especially fond of that one.

In fact, he had already run through them all several times, and as a man with a creative inclination, he needed new imaginary canvases to paint even more indecent imagery with. He really didn’t know how he ended up in this situation. Sure, he was always a man who thought more with the head between his legs than the one atop his shoulders, but he was never one to actively display such depraved behavior- that was, until you invaded his mind. You were akin to a captivating siren luring him out to the vast depths of the sea that was his lust for you, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to resist your entrancing melody.

There were a few minor complications preventing him from reaching his goals, though. The first being how the hell he would successfully obtain fresh aids for his newfound private pastime. In order to give himself more inspiration to work with, he needed to get closer to you. Normally, he would not see this as an issue at all, as he was rather confident in his physical appearance and charisma. The second- and most debilitating issue, however, lies in your surely abhorrent first impression of him. A visceral chill creeps up his spine at the mere thought of what your current opinion of him must be.

After he fucked his frustrations into his fist every night to thoughts of you, he stared at his ceiling making mental diagrams of different approaches he could take for you to nudge him over to your good side. He may have doomed himself from the first day with his thoughtless and downright rude behavior, but he was determined to rectify the misunderstanding he had perpetuated.

Luckily for Jisung, his ever-reliable mate, Felix, had already taken the first steps for him- by adding you on various social media outlets. He had been mindlessly scrolling when you stood out in the crowd of faces in his suggested friends page. It may not seem like much, but the best possible starting point had practically fallen right into his lap. He now had access to your name, interests, dislikes, music taste, and friends list- conveniently right at his fingertips to educate himself with whenever he desired. Not to mention, one mouth-watering, jaw-dropping, boner-popping display of your gorgeously-proportioned body, clad in a slutty little powder blue string bikini- just for him. It was certainly claiming it’s spot at the top the spank bank for later. He’ll have to send Felix something as a token of his appreciation for that one.

Through his frequent investigations of your treasure trove of publicly accessible information, he learned that you are, in fact, one year older than him- that was going to do wonders for his little “noona” kink. His suspicions of you being an artist were correct, much to his delight, as he’s naturally attracted to creative minds. Your taste in music also aligns surprisingly well with his own. You have more tattoos than he originally thought- which he finds incredibly hot. In your bikini pic, he spotted a dazzling silver gem nestled above your belly button- also sexy. It made him wonder if you have more piercings in places hidden under the skimpy garment- he really hoped you did. One crucial piece of information he couldn’t deduce from his research, though, was your relationship status. If you were in a relationship, it couldn’t be a happy one. There was no indication of you having a partner on any of your platforms, so he decided it was unlikely.

Now that he learned as much as he possibly could about you without direct contact, he needed to find a way to repair your skewed perception of him. He could go with his original plan of just knocking on your door, introducing himself, and apologizing, but that seemed a tad bit more risky than he was comfortable with. Since you were apparently acquainted with Felix, maybe he could convince him to act as his wingman? No, he didn’t want to come across as desperate- even if he absolutely was. Maybe Miroh? The two of you were already friends on the game thanks to him assisting you with your S-Class Dungeon victory. He could help you through the slightly more daunting Levanter or Circus stages next. And then what? Just send “hey, by the way, I’m your new neighbor.”? You would wonder how he knew who you were, and instantly be creeped out- rightfully so. He’ll still help you through more dungeons anonymously though. The intense adrenaline rush he gets from it, along with the blood that rushes straight to his junk when you cutely beg him for help- is addictive.

Your bikini pic sufficed to tide Jisung over for another week and a half, shamelessly painting your image on his phone screen white at least once, sometimes twice, or even three times a day. During this time, he strolled the market he had discovered you frequented and gained some helpful intel- you were a bit closer to Felix than he originally thought, even stopping by the various stands he often helped out with to chat or drop off food for him. A few times, Jisung thought about coming up to him while you were there to introduce himself. Ultimately, he decided it would be best for you to naturally stumble upon them hanging out together. So, he cleverly plotted to join his friend with his market volunteering for the next month or so. The first week was a bust, since you seemed to be avoiding Felix with him in the picture now. Regardless, he didn’t let it discourage him, and attentively remained loyal to his plan.

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When you told Felix about how you didn’t host a house-warming party, as you didn’t really know anyone in the area yet, he offered to throw you one to introduce you to his friends. As he got to know you better, he knew you would fit right in with his friend group. When you agreed, he gave you descriptions of his seven closest friends. You were already briefly introduced to Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, but he threw in a few more names you didn’t recognize. Among the unrecognizable names, you tried to pick out the one that could belong to your neighbor, the boy you had spotted curled up on the couch in Minho’s study. Based on his descriptions, it couldn’t have been Jeongin- the youngest of the group, or Jisung- the affectionately-dubbed “babygirl” in Felix’s words. That left you with Chris, his fellow Australian mate, and the eldest. However, his description didn’t match your neighbor either.

When you set out for the market a few days later to deliver Felix some extra sugar cookies you had baked that morning, you saw him again. He was engaged in a conversation with your friend as they appeared to be working one of the fresh fruits and vegetable stalls together. You weren’t close enough to make out what was being discussed between the two, but your attention was drawn to the brunette’s body language. You observed the two friends for a few minutes, as your neighbor cycled through a series of cutesy expressions, excited little jumps, and exaggerated hand movements directed toward Felix. You were dumbfounded by how he candidly resembled a completely different person to the one you had briefly encountered over a month ago. This guy seemed to have an energetic and charismatic personality- an immensely stark contrast to the insolent and crude introduction you were given. You decided to return home with the cookies still in hand, not quite ready to approach yet.

Later that night, you were still hung up on thoughts about your neighbor. You originally thought he really was just an asshole, but the glimpse of him you saw at Minho’s place, as well as the market, had you reconsidering. You wanted to find out more about him. If he did behave differently to you specifically, why was he so callous? You were sure his outburst was the first time you saw him, so it’s not like you did anything to personally upset him. Frustrated, you navigated towards Felix’s social media in the hopes of finding his profile to learn more about him.

To say the man had a lot of followers would be an understatement. He was clearly very popular, and you began to lose hope of finding your neighbor amongst them. You couldn’t spot him in any of the group selfies on Felix’s page either. An imaginary lightbulb illuminated itself in your head as you realized you could just text Felix, asking him to send you all of his friend’s profiles. It wouldn’t be weird, since you’d be meeting them all soon at your house-warming party anyway. While waiting for him to reply, you opened the jar perched on your nightstand, containing a handful of special gummies, popped one in your mouth, and walked to the nearby convenience store to replenish your snack supply.

On your way back home, your phone lit up with the notification of Felix’s reply as you started to feel the effects of the gummy take hold. Immediately after closing your door and kicking your shoes off, you reclined yourself on the sofa, your bag of snacks within arm’s reach, and opened your chat with Felix. Sure enough, he sent you links to seven profiles with each of their names attached. Chris was first, with his feed mostly consisting of himself on late-night walks around town, pictures of his dog, and gym selfies. You immediately noticed how fit he was, with a killer face to match, and began to wonder if all of Felix’s friends were as absurdly attractive as he was. The next profile, Minho’s, caught you off guard to say the least. There were barely any pictures of him, and the ones that were posted usually distorted his face with the most outlandish filters you could imagine. The rest of his feed was overflowing with pictures of his three adorable cats, as well as several unappetizing close-ups of what appeared to be food. You were definitely intrigued, and were looking forward to getting to know him better. The next link directed you to Changbin’s page. While you did briefly meet him in person already, you were too overwhelmed by the utter chaos unfolding in Minho’s apartment to really take in his physique. He was a total gym rat- his feed plastered with pictures showcasing his enormous muscles to prove it. What really surprised you, though, was the sheer amount of dance covers he posted featuring popular k-pop girl group songs. The man knew how to shake it, and you were pleasantly surprised by the way he didn’t lock himself into his masculine side, despite his appearance. Moving on to Hyunjin, you probably spent around an hour admiring the captivating artwork he posted. As an artist yourself, you were enamored by his abstract and romantic style. Equally as captivating, were his features. He was a fashion model, and clearly had the looks for it. You couldn’t spot a single flaw on his perfectly sculpted face.

When you returned to Felix’s links and opened the next one- Jisung’s, you immediately recognized the doe-eyed brunette in the profile picture as your neighbor. Felix had described him to you as the mood-maker of the group, with his hilarious personality and exaggeratedly cute behavior impossible to resist. You had thought Jisung was one of the least likely to be the person in question, so this discovery was very jarring. Even more so, however, was the duality he displayed with his selfies. The most recent upload featuring a cute pose- big, round eyes, puffy cheeks, and pouty lips. As you scrolled down to the next, you were met with a completely different vibe. His head was tilted back, as if he was looking down at you, with sultry siren eyes, his chain necklace dangling from perfect teeth, and the neckline of a loose-fitting white t-shirt exposing his gorgeously-tanned neck and collarbones. You scrolled back and forth between the two pictures, in absolute awe at the fact that they both displayed the same person.

As you continued scrolling, his occupation as a music producer and songwriter was revealed. He uploaded several aesthetic pictures with his own work serving as background music, and you had to admit- he definitely had talent. Each instrumental perfectly encapsulated the vibe of the picture it was paired with, and he definitely knew what he was doing from a production standpoint. The real shock came when you stumbled upon his singing and rapping videos, though. He really could do it all. He perfectly rode every beat with his flow, topping it off with impeccable enunciation. The most impressive (and admittedly attractive) aspect was his ability to effortlessly switch the tone of his voice, going from an insanely high register to a low, raspy one instantaneously. This skill clearly also carried over to his singing- his higher vocals incredibly stable, and his raspy, low tone shamefully had you feeling some type of way. You decided to blame that on the effects of the gummy.

You lingered on Jisung’s profile for longer than you would have liked to admit, especially the pictures displaying his surprisingly flirty and cocky persona. There was one picture in particular, that had your imagination running wild. His eyes were shrouded in black eyeliner, looking straight into the camera, with his lips slightly parted and his tongue protruding toward the corner of his mouth. His thumb nestled just below his bottom lip- complete with black nail polish. It gave off the vibe of him looking up at you from between your thighs, after mercilessly coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with his seemingly skilled tongue, and lazily wiping the remnants of your release off his chin.

To be honest, you’ve been attempting to ignore the persistent throbbing in your core since you first started exploring his feed, but that last picture completely abolished all resolve you were desperately clinging to. Your right hand had been absentmindedly tracing light circles up and down your thigh for the last ten minutes, slowly drawing increasingly closer to your aching heat. Your own hand became Jisung’s in your imagination when you scrolled to a photo of his, wrapped around the neck of an electric guitar. The caption read “Guitar isn’t the only thing my hands are skilled with, ladies… ;)” The little shit knew exactly what he was doing, which, was oddly attractive to you. Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts. With your middle finger nestled between your folds, you gasped at the contact.

Your heightened senses due to the gummy amplified the intensity of every touch, the pleasure increasing tenfold. To say you were soaked would be an understatement. The back of your hand was immediately coated with your arousal, as it sandwiched itself between your needy cunt and completely drenched panties. The lewd sounds caused by your wetness, along with the humiliation that washed over you as you realized you were still on the couch in your living room, only served to turn you on even more. As your middle finger breached your entrance, soon followed by your ring finger, you pictured Jisung’s pretty fingers slowly pumping you instead. Black fingernails becoming a clouded shade as your juices coat them, dripping over his silver rings. You wondered if you would be able to feel them as his fingers pushed in and out, or when they bumped up against your swollen clit as he curled his fingers upwards, relentlessly pounding your sweet spot. When you added his tongue into the picture- sloppily lapping anywhere his hand didn’t obstruct, occasionally dragging along your inner thighs and hungrily licking your arousal that had reached there, you let go. You couldn’t control the spasming of your legs, as well as the obscenely load moan that escaped past your lips, as you lost yourself in the most intense orgasm you have felt in ages. After a few minutes of regaining your composure, you washed up and crawled into bed. You were looking forward to getting to know Jisung better.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+* 🐿️

The next week Jisung helped Felix at the market, you finally made your appearance. He had his back turned to the bustling foot traffic, tediously deboning a massive chunk of raw tuna when his ears (and dick) involuntarily perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. “Hey Felix! How’s it going today?” You cheerfully approached, prompting the brunette to wonder how his name would sound as it rolled off your lips. “Hey yourself! Its a little slow today, but should pick up around lunch. This is my friend Jisung I was telling you about!” The blond returned, gesturing towards him. Felix told you about him? He wondered what you had heard, and how it made you feel, but quickly shook his thoughts away before he could get lost in them. This was finally his chance to reintroduce himself, and he was not gonna fuck it up this time. He swiped his hands across the front of his apron as he turned towards you, offering what he hoped was a charming smile.

“I would give you a handshake, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want fish smell on your hands. Sorry we kinda got off on the wrong foot there, it’s great to meet you!” He mustered up his best approach as he shot you an apologetic look, nervously cradling the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Oh, no worries! Felix told me you were really nice, so I figured you were just having a bad day. It’s nice to meet you too!” you replied. It took everything in his power to not grab his friend’s stupidly-lovable face and plant a big, fat kiss on his freckle-covered cheek right then and there. The man was, quite literally, doing all of the hard work for him.

After exchanging your greetings, you moved onto the next stall on your list. Meanwhile, Jisung attempted to burn your approximate waist-to-hip ratio into his memory- for a more realistic point of view of him taking you from behind, of course. His mesmerized focus was abruptly interrupted by his friend landing a friendly smack to his ass, signaling for him to get back to work.

Later that night, he was working on a new song when his phone exploded with notifications from his group chat with his friends. Felix had sent a text notifying everyone about a house-warming party he was hosting for a friend. When his eyes swept across your name, he immediately felt himself tighten in his joggers. He had basically pavloved himself into suffering automatic erections at the slightest thought of you with the recent frequency of his jerking off. To say he was ecstatic would be an understatement as he skimmed through the rest of the messages. He was invited to your place. Of course, his friends would be there too, but actually seeing the inside of your living space, as well as being so physically close to you- would add a whole new level of realism to his sinful fantasies. His usual view of you was from the distance of his own apartment, obstructed by two windows when you weren’t on your balcony. Your appearance at the market today was the closest he’s gotten so far.

Maybe if he played his cards right, he could sneak off into your bathroom, find out what shampoo and body wash you used, and purchase the same. Adding the element of your scent to his late-night sessions could be fun. The more he thought about it, the more depravity overtook him. What if he didn’t stop there? What if he snuck into your bedroom? Found a pair of panties to shove in his pocket and later shove into his face as he climaxes, or found your toys you use to get yourself off when you should be using him.

Still seated in front of his computer, he slightly reclined the chair back as he pulled down his waistband and teased his leaking tip slowly, his mind brewing up his latest creation. He was at your party with his friends. You were distracted by replenishing snacks, Changbin and Seungmin were engaged in a heated debate while the others focused on playing a game on your TV. He took advantage of the distractions and made his move, heading towards your bathroom. He passed the door as he embarked on his real mission- to find your bedroom. After one unsuccessful attempt opening the door to reveal a storage closet, he finally found it.

Once he shut the door behind him, he allowed himself a few seconds to take in his surroundings. When his eyes locked onto the door to your closet slightly ajar, he crossed the room and opened it further. Your laundry basket sat on the floor, powder blue lace thong placed neatly on top. He picked up the garment, intending to relocate it to his pocket, but his hand moved faster than his brain, bringing it up to his face instead. Once he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, there was no hope for him. He shifted to the edge of your bed, uncrumpling your panties and flattening them out neatly on your mattress. He quickly released his swollen cock, laying it on top of your thong as he used the pad of his thumb to apply light pressure. His hips slowly thrusted, grinding his greedy dick between the dainty lace and his calloused thumb, the contrast of textures driving him crazy. As he increased his pace, he wrapped the lace around his whole circumference and replaced the tip of his thumb with his entire hand, amplifying the pressure. The sight of his tan cock peeking through the blue lace, along with the filthiness of his actions, had him biting his bottom lip for dear life to contain his moans threatening to escape.

He did the same in real life. As his thighs started quivering, he threw his head back against the headrest of his seat. His efforts to bite back his noises failed, however, as he couldn’t contain the loud moan that forced its way through his clenched teeth when his hand grazed over a particularly sensitive spot. Feeling his orgasm approaching, he released his grip completely, twitching at the sudden loss of contact. He wasn’t going to cum yet, not when the highlight of his fantasy had yet to play out. He collected himself for a moment before engrossing himself in his scene again.

He began to panic as his hips started twitching. Soft, needy moans and incoherent mumbling rolling off of his drool-covered lips. He needed to cum, but had nothing to release into. He was so lost in his pleasure that he couldn’t stop as the sound of your door creaking open penetrated through his panting and the wet sounds of his spit and precum-coated cock. He locked eyes with your shocked expression as he blew his hot load all over your panties and bed.

“N-Noona.. I-“ you cut him off with a strong slap to his left cheek. His weak legs not able to support him as his knees buckled collapsed to the floor, the side of his face landing dangerously close to the wet spot he had created on your bed. You stood behind him, forcefully grabbing him by his hair and shoving his face directly into the mess.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you. If you’re going to be a filthy pervert, the least you can do is clean up after yourself.” You spat, further rubbing his face into his own cum. He stuck his tongue out, catching his release on it as your grip on his hair controlled him. When you heard his muffled moans you kneeled down, your face now level with his when you tugged his head upwards. “Are you seriously getting off on this you sick fuck?” You pushed him with his back now flush against the side of your bed. “Oh my god, you’re fucking hard again!” Another slap to his cheek, this time the left. You both looked down as the pain from your slap caused his length to jerk violently, a pathetic bead of precum seeping from the tip and rolling down his shaft. You caught it with your finger, bringing your digit to his mouth and shoving it in. He hungrily sucked it off, a deep moan bellowing from his chest. Withdrawing your hand from his mouth and reaching behind his head, you clutched onto the cum-soaked panties, tilted his head upwards, and shoved them in his mouth.

Jisung groaned as he twitched in his hand, shooting his release all over himself and his keyboard, dripping down between the keys. He had been putting off cleaning the damned thing for weeks, and sighed as he slumped further down in the chair. Thanks to you, he wouldn’t be able to procrastinate any longer.

#skz hard hours #skz x reader #skz han #han jisung smut #han jisung #skz smut #skz imagines #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han jisung x reader #non idol au #kpop #kpop smut #stray kids han #stray kids smut #stray kids

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cinnamonest · 5 months

Note

OMG I MISSED YOUR WRITINGS ON SCARAMOUCHE SO MUCH!!

Please I need the version with camgirl reader x incel Scaramouche 🛐

And I hope you are well !!! <3

The way I was gonna make this a fairly simple post and then I got carried away and now it's 9k words WHOOPS

Anyway YES anon, I am on the slut girl x virgin boy agenda... although since I already have a camgirl, this time I went with like an onlyf*ns/e-girl darling + college AU >:3

//noncon, cyberstalking, blackmail, harassment, misogyny, sadism, nipple/ass stuff, revenge porn/leaking, darling is portrayed as being feminine + implied to have a bf

---

You tell yourself it's just to get you through college.

That's how you convinced yourself to start the account — regular camming requires a schedule and streaming and all that, which you'd rather not do, whereas the other outlets let you sell subscriptions for photos and videos, and there was a decent market out there, so you took your best shot, did some work to advertise yourself on mainstream social sites, and hey, it worked. You soon find yourself with a steady stream of income, and all you have to do is masturbate on camera and take a few posed photos of your body.

A few years of some extra income, and then you'll be done, get a better job, and you can delete the account and scrub the internet clean of any trace of the matter. Maybe some guy out there will keep some of the photos, but it can't be that bad.

This way, you can focus on your academics, which a regular part-time job would be too time-consuming for. You don’t have to worry about scheduling classes around a work schedule, either, which allows you to be more choosy on your class schedule, ensuring you get the later classes and don’t have to wake up early each day.

Except one, where you had no choice but to take the early class, as the other sections filled up fast. It’s one of those required tech-involved ones, you just picked from the list at random — one of those big classes with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium, any degree of personalism drowned by the sheer number of people. It’s a male-dominated subject field, and the body of attending students when you walk in clearly reflects that, so you just sit down in the very back at the first unclaimed seat you can find, pausing to say good morning to the boy next to you, who only briefly looks your way in acknowledgement.

The professor goes over the generic first-day material — that yes, you need the expensive textbook, that yes, he will check attendance, and no, he will not give you extra credit at the last minute at the end of the semester, so on and so on… and—

—you’ll be working with the person next to you for the rest of the semester.

Even-numbered seats, the person to your immediate left, odd-numbered seats, to your immediate right. You turn and smile at the guy you’re thus assigned to, the same one you spoke to a few moments ago — once again, he just glances over at you and nods with some vague acknowledgement and then resumes doing what he’s been doing since the professor started, which is scrolling on his phone beneath the desk, only half-paying attention. That does not bode well for your predictions of how equally-yoked you’ll be in your work ethic… but no big deal.

It's one of those classes with a midterm and final project that you work on throughout the semester, rather than tests… which, hey, that could be fun, you tell yourself. You think you can get along. He doesn’t seem to care about what's going on around him much, which is not exactly good, but isn’t bad.

That dopey, happy demeanor… so obnoxious… ugh, you’ve got a notebook (an aesthetic, pretty one at that), and you're pulling it out on the first day of class? For what?

Except you aren’t reading him all that well at all. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes shift over to you and your activities throughout the class. And the reality is he very much does care.

That is, from the very second he lays eyes on you, you irritate him.

Then you write the class and your name at the top of the page all cutesy and artsy-looking, and then— God, now you're pulling out the multiple colors of highlighters and pens. Is that— is that one of those sparkly gel pens? Oh, it is. You’re making a little header with today’s date for your notes with it. Just kill him now. This is practically psychological torture.

Thus, while from your perspective, it feels like he barely pays you a second thought, in reality the rest of the period for him is spent just stewing in a stream of bitter, jaded thoughts.

Look at you with your… girl clothes and girl pens and girl notebook… you probably think you're so cute, spending money on dumb stuff like that… and smiling like an idiot. What are you so happy for. Why are you even taking this class when you'll just be bad at it. Why are you dressed like you put effort into it. Just pick up one of the sweatshirts laying on your bedroom floor like a reasonable person. And why do you smell so nice too.

He mulls over the negativity for the remainder of the class period, totally zoned out until people start packing up, which is the cue to leave.

Except you stop him before he can make a quick exit, holding out your phone, open to a new entry in your contacts.

Ah, since we'll need to work on the project, I can text you…

Right. That. Ugh.

The awkward discomfort of standing there and entering a name and number while you stand there with that dumb little nervous smile is only made more upsetting by the bitter realization that this will mark the first time he's ever had his number in a girl's phone before. Great, now he's going to be depressed for the rest of the day, and it's your fault.

You say thanks and smile again and your hands brush against his when you take your phone back and it makes him physically flinch in recoil — and you definitely noticed it, you mumble a little ah, sorry as if you're trying to make it even more awkward, now he's got to live with the humiliation of that too, and it's still your fault. Clearly, you are going to be nothing but a source of frustration.

And even once he's moped all the way back to the the comfort of his nice, dark apartment, he still can't escape your torment — no sooner does he flop down into bed than his phone goes off…

>Hi! Just wanted to make sure you can save my number too!

You add the little smiling emoji. It makes his eye twitch.

Trying to act all nice and sweet as if you're not only being pleasant because you're forced to work together. He knows full well you'd be all bitchy and demanding and hypersensitive in any other context, and probably all snobbish too, probably would barely pay him any mind.

Even if you are genuinely sweet, that in and of itself is still basically torturing him. Because what’s the point in you being sweet if you’re not going to give him anything more than that? With that in mind, even your niceness is just a cruel tease.

And why would you even be so happy to begin with? Doesn't being a girl suck? If he was something so weak and inferior and unintelligent, he'd be even more miserable about life, and that's really saying something. Maybe it's one of those things where you're so dumb that you lack self-awareness, so you can live a life of ignorant bliss... at the same time, the notion that you’re unaware of how inferior you are is equally frustrating. You should know, that knowledge should weigh on your mind all the time.

The frustration makes his chest feel tight, makes him grind his teeth… naturally, he has to get it out somehow, and there's a very convenient means to do so.

The imageboards he frequents almost always have a “leaked images” thread up and running, communities where they post e-girls’ nudes and revenge porn. The wrongness of it, of course, is the appeal.

Besides, they all deserve it. Some are images originally sent to boyfriends, posted as an act of revenge after cheating or dumping the guy (so it's deserved, really), others are leaked videos and photos from various pay-to-view networks and websites (also deserved, for being a whore), and finally some are just creepshots in public places (deserved once more, for dressing that way).

And the endless amount of the content and surprisingly good tagging system means that one can find any sort of content, and for the leaked porn accounts, it includes the girl's username and links to more of her, so you can see more of the same girl.

Like with this one, that just so happens to catch his eye. There's a whole page where some guy has paid for every single photo this girl has made, and put it out there for everyone to see for free. It's solo stuff, too, which is preferred — seeing couples making videos together, thereby watching the girl love on some guy, is depressing — and getting off to it is much more satisfying than any of the other girls on this thread, considering she looks like you.

…A lot, actually.

He's already memorized your annoying, pretty little face. The title of the video has the words “college girl” in it, too. Adds to the immersion, can feel like it’s really you, degrading yourself like that… of course, when it’s over, he has to deal with the reality that it isn’t, but the momentary pretending is cathartic.

And sure enough, as the first week passes, you quickly prove just as irritating as he initially suspected. You smile at him and talk to him every class, for some unknown, malicious ulterior motive. Are you trying to be belittling? Or are you trying to make him like you so that he'll do favors for you? Or is it for your own amusement?

Either way, the obvious deceit of it all is sickening. It's a commonly known female behavior. You try to come across as so sweet when in reality it's all an act, and you have some horrible reason for it. He just doesn't know what the reason is in your case yet. It would be better to be a bad person outright — the slimy underhanded fakeness of it all is what makes that type of evil so contemptible.

You, though, you’re just a bit puzzled. Normally, being nice to people works well… but this guy keeps sort of glaring at you… maybe that’s just how his face naturally is? But then, he also doesn’t talk very nice either. Not particularly mean, per se, but you can sort of sense an irritation, like you’ve done something wrong… you try to make the best of it, tell yourself you’re just imagining it. Besides, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t respond when you talk to him, or would sit elsewhere, right? It’s not like you have to maintain the same seats all semester, as long as you work on the required material outside of class. So, you tell yourself, he must just be one of those people that naturally has that demeanor.

You’re not nearly as aware of it, but he makes his own observations of you too. You don’t check your phone nearly as much as he does, but every now and then, you look at something or another, and he always makes sure to subtly turn his eyes to see… it’s usually something stupid, like texts from friends, or worse, what appears to be a boyfriend, some male name you text often.

The first time you’re forced to meet outside of class, at the library per your suggestion — a very awkward interaction, but you seem to be fairly unbothered — you take a moment to check it when it vibrates. You’re sitting at an angle that makes it difficult for him to see without moving in a way that would catch your attention, but by pretending to take a swig of whatever can of liquid caffeine he has today (you had the audacity to comment how unhealthy it is), that he can tilt his head enough just to barely make out your screen without being noticed.

Your phone is open to an email.

The words flash across the screen for just a split second before you turn the screen off, but that one second is enough to make out the top of the screen. Enough time for the ‘hello, (username),’ preface to the email right beneath a very familiar blue logo to register with his brain.

He nearly chokes.

It takes every ounce of willpower to even try to hide the natural reaction — his eyes widen, he goes tense, he has to turn his torso away and pretend to fish something out of his cluttered bottomless void of a backpack whilst trying to refrain from coughing.

But then again, you put the phone away so quickly once you saw what it was… and the video from the other day…?

No. That can't be right.

There's no way. There's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

He can’t get back to his own place fast enough. Dropping the keys trying to unlock the door out of excitement, immediately whipping out his own phone, and he’s on the bookmarks tab before he can even sit down. Back to the leaks site, scrolling down to the tags where they put the girl’s username.

You’re wholly unbothered, going right back to talking to him in that overly-sweet tone, so nice, so frustrating, so torturous. You’re saying something. He has to get you to repeat yourself… no, it was just some pointless question about the homework.

To hell with that, that’s not even remotely important anymore… but he can’t voice that thought out loud, so he’s forced to tolerate the torment of waiting out the rest of your meeting until you finally say you’ll have to keep working later.

The usernames match. The one in your email was the exact same as the one now on the screen.

…

It's one of those moments where what's in front of him is so surreal, he's left so stunned, that he just sits there for a second, completely still, blinking and taking it in. Something that's too perfect to be real. This can't be actually happening, he's mistaken.

And thus he's just left perfectly still, a stupor of disbelief, sitting there in the darkness of the room with only the harsh light of phone screen shining up on his face as it slowly sinks in. It takes a minute — this is just the sort of thing that doesn't happen, it's far too perfect, he has to convince himself it isn't a dream.

And once it registers as reality, it feels exhilarating.

For one, it proves every suspicion right. He really did have a valid reason to be distrusting of your innocent girl act. To think, this whole time you were trying to fool him into believing you were good.

But all along, you were whoring out online, and basically, the fact that you're not upfront about that to someone you barely know is the same as outright lying about it.

Up until this point, life has just been so boring, so disappointing, just going through day to day… even college was just a thing to do because it's what everyone else does. But now? Now he has something exciting. A sudden sense of something meaningful, even if only as an outlet for pure, unadulterated malice.

As for you, well, you get a… well, a follower, but certainly not a fan.

The boy is a world-class hater. It's not passive hating, it's active hating. There is actual effort being put in here, and a lot of it at that.

In terms of the content itself, it's nothing you haven't seen before — some guy leaving comments and DMs calling you a whore and a slut and every nasty name one can conjure, saying you've ruined any hopes of a relationship by doing this, why would anyone ever date you when they can see you naked for a few bucks, telling you to get a real job, blah blah… fairly generic. A lot of the verbiage is certainly non-original, and more or less recycled, specific choices of words and phrases and lingo you know you’ve seen before in those pockets of the internet where certain types of men congregate.

But the sheer dedication to it is what catches you off guard. You're pretty sure this guy is more dedicated to harassing you than you are to the job itself. There's messages from all hours of the day, and you're certain after a short time that he makes multiple accounts for the sole purpose of harassing you. Not to mention he follows or adds you on everything — all the socials you've linked (you keep several associated to your account to lure in horny guys from mainstream sites), adds you on discord and any other messaging app you have (and you have no way of knowing which users are legitimate or if it's him, so you have to add them back and wait to find out each time). One of which you didn't even have listed on your page, so you realize he would have had to go through various apps and search the multiple variations of your username you use until finding you.

Telling him to fuck off accomplishes nothing, in fact he seems to derive great satisfaction from making you upset about it. Tells you that you should be glad — you wanted male attention, right? You wouldn't be posting yourself getting off and flashing your tits on camera for the world to see if you didn't, slut. He adds that insult to just about everything he says to you.

Blocking him only leads to him making new accounts (and then mocking you for trying to block him). You even reached out to a customer support team on one of your social media apps and got him permanently IP banned, which he then immediately circumvented in less than a few hours, making sure to inform you that changing one's IP is so easy and you're so dumb for thinking that would do anything.

But why you, specifically? Why decide to torment you out of every other girl doing this stuff? You don't know. You never asked for this. You never did anything wrong to anyone. You even scrolled back on your social accounts to see if you ever said anything someone could take offensively or had a negative interaction with someone, but found nothing. There's nothing to explain why this one man in particular has decided to come after you specifically, nothing you can think of at least. It feels like the universe just hates you.

It's actually kinda sad. You almost feel bad for this guy, who apparently has so much time to spare and nothing better to do than harass the same girl on the internet day in and day out. You did once shoot back a reply of don’t you have anything better to do?, which actually did make him stop… for about ten hours or so, then it was right back to it.

It's deserved, though, he thinks. E-girls are reprehensible. Taking advantage of guys’ loneliness for money.

Infuriating that you advertise something that he— well, that most guys want so bad, but don't actually give the real thing, only a simulation of it. Make them drool over you, while you hide behind the safety of the screen, far away from what those guys would do to you if they could get their hands on you.

And you know that too, don't you? You know how defenseless you are, know how much danger you'd be in if you teased without putting out like that to a guy in real life, and you do it anyway knowing you're untouchable, you must be so smug about it. Infuriating.

He's not like those simps of yours though, he finds you too morally reprehensible to be drawn to the curves of your body and the parts of you that you post and the sounds you make and how easy it is to imagine the softness of your skin and the way you feel and your warmth and the way you look directly into the camera as you moan and it feels like eye contact—

Anyway, he has standards. And self-respect.

Besides, he knows from stalking your social accounts — including your real ones with your real identity attached, separate from the others — that you have something like a boyfriend. Some guy who shows up in your pictures a lot. What a pathetic idiot. Who lets their girlfriend do this sort of thing? Even disregarding that, does this guy not know you’re meeting with him for your project too? He would never allow you to do something like that, were it him in that position. You must go after spineless guys who will let you walk all over them or something, and would only even accept boyfriends that allow you to do what you do.

That’s why, see, he would never accept something like that. Sure, there would be positives, like getting to see that sweet annoying smile and hear your happy obnoxious precious voice each and every day, and getting to touch you and be around you all the time, and you probably do really nice things for the person you’re with too, and he could always just force you to delete the accounts and never post yourself online again— but, whatever.

Point is, he’s better than stooping so low. He’ll keep living a respectable life, just like he does now — so he thinks as the phone alarm goes off, one of many set reminders to go send you more messages.

It's an awkward relationship, but you're pretty sure he doesn't hate you or anything, which is good. He's hard to read — he seems perpetually either bored or irritated, always slouched over, always maintaining that ‘I really wish I weren't here right now’ tone of voice, lots of heavy sighs or tsks scattered into his speech. Even when you agree to meet at the library to work on the homework and midterm project, he quickly establishes a pattern of being at least ten to fifteen minutes late (without any acknowledgement or apology at that), and frankly, you do the vast majority of the actual work, he just slaps his name on the corner next to yours once it's done.

The torment detracts from your sleep. You're late to your class more than once, trying to sneak in unnoticed by the professor and mumbling apologies to the students you have to slip by to get to your seat. Your partner doesn't seem to care much, at least — he just lazily glances over at you with a flat expression, then goes back to scrolling (he doesn't need to take notes, you'll just send him yours anyway).

He does step in to help when it's too difficult, you can't solve the problem yourself… which is how you realize that, in spite of being remarkably low-effort, he actually does understand the material, much better than you do at that. It's a bit embarrassing, since he makes it out to be so simple, but at least it somewhat compensates for all the work you do.

He's not particularly mean about it, he's just… not nice. The tone and choice of words tends to be not-so-subtly making you out to be dumb for not getting it, or that it's easy, or otherwise belittling.

…You really don't get that one? It's the exact same thing as the last one.

You give a sheepish smile and rub the back of your head.

Aha… sorry…

But it gets done, and that's what matters. You just walk away from each meeting feeling like an idiot, which isn't exactly a great feeling.

But even though you initially felt like the guy didn’t care for you, you quickly notice that he’s started to walk all the way back to your place after your meetings while you talk. You supposed he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t at least somewhat enjoy your company.

And you do try to make conversation. You ask about what other classes he takes…only to learn that he doesn't go to any other classes, since this is the only one where attending is required. He did the math, and he just has to do good on the finals for the other classes to pass, no need to show up for the tests and quizzes and lectures and stuff… and he did research into the professors to find ones where past students confirm they recycle the exact same tests and the past ones are posted online, and he's already got a good cheating method that's only been caught once in all the years he's used it… so there's no point in showing up, he says.

It's a very different mentality than yours, but you try to smile and refrain from saying anything negative. And you try interests and social life as topics, but quickly glean from what little he says that the guy has none of the latter and more or less just a phone and gaming addiction for the former.

Which you have no trouble believing, because good God, does the boy have a totally fried attention span. Even in your meetings, you swear he can't go five minutes without staring at his phone.

Oh, you like that too…?

That does end up helping you find a means to try and get closer. You manage to find one opening, something flash across the screen for some upcoming game. One you've been looking forward to as well.

Huh? You can’t like that thing. He likes that thing. It's not for females. It’s for people with good taste… it’s good… you can’t… someone like you would never be able to properly appreciate it… and now you’re just babbling away with that dumb smile while he’s going through a psychological crisis and rethinking every choice in life because of you. Does this put you two on the same intellectual level...? No, of course not, he has to quickly shake off any such doubts.

You were hoping to get a positive reaction, but you get silent bewilderment in his expression at first, for just a second.

Still, you’re supposed to be boring and a normie… you can’t just suddenly shatter the image of you he’s already constructed… and from the way you're talking about it, you know too much to just be pretending to like something for attention (which is the obvious automatic assumption for when females like media that's actually good and worth consuming).

Devastating. Now he has to consider the possibility that you do have interests and a personality besides being deceitfully sweet and whoring online.

But from your perspective, he just crosses his arms and shrugs.

Kind of, I guess.

And God, then you smile at him again. Every time you do that, it gives him some godawful tight-chested feeling, like you’re trying to kill him with psychic damage.

What gives you the right to be so happy right now anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in constant distress, now? Is he not doing good enough of a job at tormenting you? You seemed upset, but clearly not upset enough, if you’re still emotionally stable enough to be nice to him. He has to break you, make you too distraught to even go on.

Online, you’re so mean, you never have anything nice to say, even though he’s not that mean to you — well, he could be worse, at least, which is basically the same thing.

Actually, he decides, how you behave in real life will be a good standard of how good he’s doing at making your life miserable. Once it starts to noticeably affect you even in real life, that means it’s sufficient.

But you prove resilient. Each day, you seem to get up, summon some resolve to still enjoy your life, and are still pleasant and friendly… or maybe you’re just really good at acting. Yes, obviously that’s it, since your whole sweetness thing is just an act in the first place.

On your end, the harassment gets worse. It comes in all hours of the day — does this guy not sleep? It’s almost hard to believe someone hates you this much, or even has the energy to keep this up… you start trying to just ignore it.

You tried threatening to report the guy for harassment, but he points out that he hasn’t threatened you with any real harm, and only targeted your public accounts, so no laws broken… and he’s already prepared by taking measures to— well, you don’t understand the spew of lingo that follows, but you gather that the jist is that it would be very difficult to trace him.

So you start to ignore it. You try your best to just not let it get to you, let the comments and messages go without acknowledgement or response. It’s actually somewhat relieving, if you just pretend it doesn’t exist. At first, when you start ignoring him, the messages get more frequent.

But then, it goes quiet for a day. Just around twenty-four hours, you don't get messages, nor comments.

It should make you feel relieved, you think, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite — you feel uneasy. Like something will happen.

He's getting bored, you see. You don't react as strongly anymore as you used to. You used to get so upset at all the messages he sent, and it was so fun to watch how you'd get all defensive and angry in your replies.

Then your replies got shorter, and now— what gives your the right to ignore him? It infuriates him. Dumb whore, treating him like you think you're so much better… or, the gut-wrenching thought passes through his mind, maybe you're busy, you’re probably visiting the guys you sleep around with, since someone like you could never be loyal to that boyfriend he's certain you have.

The only option is to progress things further. He has to think about that. He didn't really have a plan on where to go from here, but now he's started to think about the bigger picture, what he wants in the long term… and that's not going to go over well for you.

It takes some work and digging on his end, but it's worth it.

It's around three in the morning when your phone goes off. It just barely manages to wake you up. You think to yourself that you should remember to turn off the notifications for messaging apps… but for now, you sit up, groggily unlocking your phone. Seeing who the message is from, though, snaps you into full alertness.

A message that makes you go stiff, staring at your phone wide-eyed and slack-jawed, a cold knot of dread forming in your gut that quickly turns to an electrifying surge of pure panic as you read.

The name of your academic institution. The names, emails and phone numbers of your immediate family members. Your full, real name — and your address, down to the unit number.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The glaring light hurts your tired eyes, but you can't look away.

You know he's just waiting on a response. Probably knows you're panicking, but knows you have no choice but to comply — and you're forced to give him the satisfaction of seeing you type back.

>What do you want from me?

It's only a few seconds before you get a reply.

>From now on, do what I want

>Or I ruin your life.

You hesitate a while before responding. Poor you, you must be so scared now that you're finally getting what you deserve. And even then, you just send back a ‘fine,’ even though it took you so long to respond. You were probably trying to think of how to respond, probably typed out longer potential replies, but decided on that to seem tough or something. That's actually almost endearing.

And oh, it's so, so satisfying to finally see you crumble, even if just a bit, the next day. For you to come shuffling into class for once with a downtrodden, nervous expression, making your way over to your spot without the usual greeting.

…Except that's also irritating. What makes you think you can just not say hello, now that you've established a routine of doing so every day of this class? For all you know, he's just the person you know in real life, so you're basically willingly choosing to potentially disappoint him. Not that you are disappointing him, but like, if he actually cared about your dumb little daily greeting, then he would be. He even gives you several extra seconds, and you still don't do it.

You're still fidgeting nervously, lost in thought when the mumbling directed at you pulls you out of your thoughts.

…Something wrong with you?

You seem to realize your sullen energy and attempt to fix it with a twitching, obviously forced smile.

O-oh, no, I'm just tired, haha… good morning!

He doesn't say anything back, just turns back to phone-scrolling as usual. You realize your melancholy must be showing on your face.

You're being overdramatic, too, he thinks. He didn't even give you any demands yet, since he decided it would be more fun to make you wait in suspense for a few hours or so. Seeing you squirm is funny, but really, you're acting like it's so much worse than it is. What a weakling, so sensitive.

It's just gonna be stuff you're used to anyway…

Which is somewhat true. You're used to the demand for private, custom content.

Men pay you sometimes incredible amounts of money for the stuff. Usually, the customization is about personalization — sometimes it's kind of sad, wanting you to say their name or that you love them while you look at the camera, and sometimes it's just more niche fetish stuff, like pictures of your feet or wearing a weird costume.

But everything this mystery man wants is different — the personalization has to do with the fact that it's painful, humiliating, or both. Moreover, he's never content with the first try.

Stuffing your holes with toys and sitting down on them so they go all the way in, specifically, ‘as many as you can fit’ — but even after the painful effort of getting one in each hole—

>That's not enough.

You can fit at least one more somewhere. And you're intentionally using the smaller toys, aren't you? You won't be able to do that next time, so don't try that again.

Then there's the command to get those clamps on your nipples you used in a video of yours a long time ago, the ones connected to each other by a chain, and to tighten them then pull hard enough for them to come off. You have to take a few deep breaths to summon the ability to do it, and even then, it takes a few tugs to get them to come off. By the time they do, your nipples are swollen and red and your eyes are watery from the sting, but nonetheless, a message comes through within a minute of sending the video.

>You didn't tighten them all the way first.

>Do it over.

Or the one to deep throat that one huge toy you have, the one you used in this one video a long time ago — which you now regret ever posting, since there's a reason that you never used that monstrosity again, much less in your throat. At first you're not even sure you can fit it into your mouth, but you force it somehow.

On and on the demands come. He's not paying for any of it, of course, but the premise is the same.

Still, it's not enough. Come on, you didn't even get it very far in, you have to at least get half down your throat. And you didn't hold the phone close enough, can't hear your gagging choking sounds.

>Do it again.

The timing is often terrible, shortly before or after your classes, or odd hours of the night, forcing you to stop whatever you're doing to meet the demand. Thankfully, though, at least you've never gotten a message from him during your meetups with your class partner — you're certain your distress would show on your face, and it would be hard to come up with an excuse for it.

It becomes such routine, and all happens so quickly, it feels surreal, like you're just forced to accept it and go with it. There’s no time to really process it, as you have to get back to doing your school work and going to class and trying to keep up with your regular video content, it's all so overwhelming, yet so simple, you just have to do what you have to do.

One moment you're slapping yourself in the face while you bounce up and down on a toy so long that it bruises your insides for some jerk that's blackmailing you, and running to class the next, desperately trying to rub at the marks on your face to make them go away.

You're worried that the stress is beginning to show. Your most recent quiz scores are lower than usual, you're getting less sleep. Your insides are always sore. You're paranoid and uneasy, and you know it has to be somewhat evident.

Some of the individual demands have lasting consequences, too. Once you were commanded to choke yourself with a belt on camera, specifically until it left bruises… which you begged and protested against because you had one of your class partner meet-ups scheduled for later the same day, but your tormentor said he didn't care and insisted, so you did it, forcing yourself to go through it… and sending an additional picture at the end just to show the purplish marks in detail, up close.

It wasn't the end of the world for your meeting though — the weather wasn't right for it, but you found something that covered your neck up, at least, so the bruises didn't show. That much, at least, allows you to be at ease… although your classmate seems to be in a particularly bad mood that day.

On another occasion, you find yourself laying on your side, gasping and wincing trying to force one of the larger toys you have into your ass, all the way to the base as instructed, toes curling as you pump it back and forth, in and out… only to be told you weren't supposed to touch yourself while you did it, so, predictably, you have to do it again, the ring of muscle clenching down as it's stretched — and, of course, the act leaves a remnant sensation lasting the rest of the day. You have to rush it too, or you'll be late, due to the horrible timing of the command.

You manage to get to class, but when you move to sit, an ache of pain runs up your spine from your poor abused hole, and you wince, face grimacing at the pain.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you, ever observant to everything except the professor, casts a lazy glance over to you, looks you up and down before asking what’s the matter, albeit in a half-caring, bored tone of voice…

You give the oh, nothing, I'm fine! response, stammer out something about hurting your leg yesterday, and he merely gives you an 'ah' of acknowledgement before turning his gaze back down… he rests his chin against his hand so that his mouth is covered up, but you swear, you can detect a slight grin from the shape of his eyes. You suppose it checks out that he'd find your clumsiness amusing, even if it's a lie.

On and on it goes. All the time. Day in, day out. It starts off as once per day, but then your tormentor starts piling smaller requests on top of those. Even beyond the daily video, you get increasingly frequent messages at all times of the day — to take a picture of your tits or ass, or a short video of you fingering yourself, or some sort of angle or pose of your body, writing something on your skin, so on and so on.

He doesn't accept any delays, either. You only get a few minutes to fulfill a demand before getting an impatient follow-up asking what the hold up is. Sleep isn't an excuse either, so you're told, so you have to start turning your phone on loud at night to wake you if need be.

You sense a growing impatience. The frequency increases still, as does the intensity of the content you're forced to make. It's as if it's building up to something — surely it has to reach a limit, or he has to get bored, or he'll ditch you and find a new outlet for his sadistic thrills, you hope. You just hope it ends in a way that's positive for you… but you're afraid of the opposite. What if even after all this, he just ruins your life anyway? It's a very real possibility, one you begin considering increasingly as you think over the whole situation.

The increasing severity and number of demands makes you feel like he's getting more upset, as if you're doing something that makes him mad, even though you have no idea what that could be.

You are right, though.

He's also noticed how much more frequently he gets the urge to demand something from you. How much more the itch has grown, the compulsive need to see you hurting and degrading yourself more and more. You've long since passed the point where he has more videos and photos of you all to himself than those available online — he's been counting — but it's still not enough.

And with the realizations that he's engaging with you more, he realizes that he's also thinking about you more.

No, “more” isn't quite accurate. All the time. Constantly. You never leave his head, everything else feels like a distraction.

And that's only more infuriating. He's very self-aware, realizes it's getting worse, realizes you essentially occupy his thoughts every waking second.

Even then, the distractions aren't working. At one point he realized he literally cannot stop himself from messaging you, it's a compulsion, a need, and the realization of his own lack of self-control regarding it is maddening. He actively tried, told himself to wait until the next day, but just couldn't. Even if he plays games or watches whatever brain-rotting media he tries to consume, his thoughts keep drifting to you. Hell, ever since latching onto you, he’s stopped harassing other random women online in general, and that was pretty much one of his biggest hobbies in the past.

What gives you the right? To get inside his head like that? Make him constantly distracted and wondering about what you're doing, forcing him to keep tabs on you? What makes you think you can just come into his life and control him like this, and think you'll get away with it? You've more or less taken advantage of an innocent person who did nothing wrong to you. Used your body to exploit his weaknesses and manipulate him into doing all this.

You don't get to do that. You have to be held accountable.

You're constantly making him worry about you, what you're doing, who you're talking to, and not knowing is a maddening feeling. It feels like nausea, a sick feeling that completely consumes the mind, rendering it incapable of doing or focusing on anything else, only cycling the same obsessive rage and worry and paranoia until it becomes unbearable.

But there's a way to get rid of that, and give you what you deserve, and get what you owe him all at the same time.

He waits, only another week or so — a frustrating week, but spent planning ahead and gathering necessary stuff — but finally, given the timing, you send a text he was hoping you'd send asking about meeting up again, to finish up the project as the end of the semester approaches.

You're a bit caught off-guard by the message, not to mention how quickly he replies.

>Come over here.

You hesitate, re-reading to try and ensure that you're understanding correctly, and finally ask for clarification that he means to his place.

He says yes. Something about how he's supposed to have something delivered that he'll have to sign, and so he has to be at the apartment when that happens, so, y'know, best for you to come over.

Which is nice.

It's just… odd.

Inviting you over, even if for a required activity, feels very out of line with the person you've come to know, however surface-level said knowing may be. Then again, maybe this is the guy's way of trying to be nice. Everyone expresses appreciation differently.

You're still thinking on it when he adds another text saying that his roommate will be there, preemptively apologizes for any disturbance that will cause… well, you figure if someone else is there, it can’t be anything sinister. That helps you make up your mind, so you agree. At this point, you know each other well enough to warrant trust.

…It’s still pretty awkward, though. The apartment is about like a picture you would expect to see uploaded to the internet as a joke about male living spaces. Borderline barren, barring the computer and the bare minimum furniture and appliances needed to survive, plus some clothes and empty cans and such strewn in various places across the floor, all dark lighting and void of color.

That being said, you quickly realize the apartment is only a studio, and there’s only one bed. The roommate doesn't exist.

And something just feels wrong, in a way you can’t articulate. Like your instincts are urging you to leave. You feel uneasy. Goosebumps spread across your skin. Are you just being paranoid…?

There is something else, though, that immediately catches your attention. You notice that the wall isn’t exposed, rather, most of the room is covered with a layer of some sort of paneling, lining the wall almost as thoroughly as wallpaper. You inquire what it is.

Soundproofing.

An unpleasant answer, but he wouldn’t be so upfront about it unless it was for harmless reasons. You refrain from inquiring about the other odd things you start to notice — locks on some cabinets despite seemingly living alone, a roll of tape sitting on the desk with no discernable purpose.

As awkward as the tension is, you really have no option but to sit on the bed, as its the only surface other than the floor. You try not to contemplate how often the average college-aged boy washes bedsheets.

It occurs to you, though, that right now would be the worst possible timing for a message from your unknown harasser, and you certainly can’t take any photos or videos here… thus, just as you sit down and begin to work, you pick up your phone from where you set yours next to his, and type out a quick message, basically pleading with the unknown man to leave you along for the next few hours, because, as you explain, you literally can’t do anything for the time being.

You read it over, and hit send.

And before you can even put the phone back down, there's a vibration a mere arms-length away from you, as the other phone in the room lights up.

And there, in the notification that pops up on the screen, are the very words you just sent.

…

There's a few seconds where nothing happens.

Both your heads naturally turn to the sound the moment it happens, but after that, it's just… still. You’re frozen still, he’s frozen still. Both your eyes go wide, and the quiet seconds pass, processing the information before you.

And then, he sighs, body relaxing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering as if met with some major inconvenience.

God, why do you have to make this more difficult.

Besides, he already turned the lock that locks you in from the inside, even though you probably weren’t aware of what it was, so you’re already trapped anyway. And you squeal, of course, predictably, but that’s what the soundproof panels are for.

He's not particularly worried like he would have been any other time — this was the plan now anyway, but you're throwing things off schedule. Yet another transgression to hold you accountable for.

You do try to run. You at least deserve that much credit. He was so close to considering you a genuine marvel of human evolution, with how nonfunctional your survival instincts seemed to be.

But you’re sitting with your legs folded, so, you don’t have the time required to stand any chance of hopping up and running. The moment your legs start to move to stand, he’s already got you by the arm.

You even seemed to process everything a bit quicker than he would have thought. Maybe you’re not that stupid after all, just… a little less.

You still are incredibly stupid though. He’s almost surprised you agreed to come. So naive, so dumb, so trusting.

And so loud. Squealing like a little animal caught by a predator — which, well, isn’t too far off, but it still hurts his ears.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

You can hear the growling voice in your ear, even now that he has your face pressed into the mattress, arm latched around your waist. You’re squirming so hard too, but even fighting with all the strength you can summon, it feels like trying to push back a brick wall. He seems to notice as much as you do.

…Is that actually the best you can do?

Not the first time he’s said those words to you — though before, it was over text, mocking you into filling all those perverse desires. It feels far more biting now.

And it’s so, so, so satisfying to see you realize just how dumb you are, as you put everything together. To watch you slowly grasp everything, realize just how badly you’ve fucked up. He even flips you onto your back just to see your face go through all the stages of emotion. It’s hilarious, and adorable too. The confusion and betrayal and panic and anger.

Oh, you get so mad. It’s actually the best part. You’re practically snarling now, reaching up to try and claw at him, kicking, baring your teeth. Any traces of the sweet demeanor you once held is long gone as you lash out… and then, a purely and entirely euphoric transition to fear.

Aw. Poor thing. After you struggle so much, your breathing gets faster, the fury dissipates as your eyes well with tears. The demands to let you go turn to miserable little pleas.

Maybe you can go back and forth. Maybe if he taunts you again you’ll get angry once more, and then if he slaps you you’ll get meek and fearful again? That would be nice, to have reliable ways to switch your emotions around, as if controlling them with a button. There will be plenty of time to find out later.

But now he gets the opportunity to finally tell you how long you made him wait for this. Mocks you for how naive you were. Brings up specifics from all those videos you sent him. Did you think it would just be left at that? Did you really not realize it wouldn’t be enough? No, of course you didn’t, and that’s why you ended up coming here like the dumb little slut you are.

And look, you even wore something so easy to flip up, practically easy access. You just have no shame at all, do you. See, it goes in perfectly because you’ve been using those toys for those videos, and… ah, so that’s— that’s what it feels like… holy shit… this is what you basically robbed him of all this time? Now you’ll really have to suffer to make up for it…

Well, you wouldn’t get it. It’s about what you did subconsciously, mind games and all that. His torment was intentional on your end, and that’s what matters. Now you'll get to spend a very very long time atoning for it. You should be happy. You won't even have to worry about making money anymore.

This wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t do what you did to him, you know. It’s your fault. He tells you so. And when you look up at him, eyes welled with tears, stammering out a question of what he means—

What did I ever d-do to you…?

—he realizes that it’s… difficult to give that question a concrete answer.

What did you do, really...?

The only problem that remains is how you rushed things. He was at least going to wait until you finished the project, but now it’s incomplete… do professors grant extensions if your partner goes missing…?

#bro is majoring in being a menace #.sc #the modern au trio is now the modern au quartet 😤#need them to get together and share captive-holding tips with each other

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tinytalkingtina · 1 month

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Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday

@devondespresso Tagged me in this forever ago and I finally had one wiggle its way into my brain!

This week been fiddling with the idea of a true role reversal Steddie, with Eddie as the popular jock and Steve as the metalhead (as opposed to a punk). This got a little away from me, haha. No idea for a story or how other characters might fit in, but if anyone wants to take the concept and run with it feel free!

Eddie

Eddie is still poor, and still lives with his uncle (let's pretend he had to repeat a grade due to the chaos of moving in with Wayne). But he's Hawkin's star track runner/lightweight wrestler, channeling his energy into sports and competition. His grades are probably still not great, but since he's winning awards at meets, teachers let a lot more slide, and he skates by most of his classes with low C's. If he's loud and excited, then well, that's just what jocks do, right?

Wayne works nights, so Eddie is usually left to his own devices. Sure, the trailer can't hold that many people (and maybe Eddie has a bit of a chip on his shoulder that he lives in the trailer park), but this is the Midwest, and Eddie is creative. He hosts big bonfire ragers out in the woods, deep enough that the cops can't easily break them up.

Eddie's "Munson Doctrine" is from the perspective of being a jock. Mixed with his insecurities, it becomes about staying on top, no matter what. That means dating around, taking girls out most Fridays. He likes girls and has plenty of fun. And if he occasionally slips in a fantasy or two about drug dealer Steve Harrington pinning him against a wall with that knife of his, no one needs to know.

Steve

Then we have Steve. Steve's had piano lessons since he was 5. A framed picture of him in his bow tie and tiny suit at his first recital sits on his mom's desk. He's good at sports and does Little League as a kid, but they don't hold his interest, not the way music does. When he hits middle school, him and his dad have a huge fight over him refusing to try out for any sports. The cracks were already there, because his parents are louder than they think when they argue. To drown them out, he turns on the radio, spinning the dials. By chance, he finds a Black Sabbath song. Something in it speaks to him, gives an outlet to the frustration and anger he's feeling.

Steve picks up drums to play in band at school, but he also borrows books from the library and teaches himself guitar after begging his mom for one for his 13th birthday. He makes a few friends, they start a band. As he enters high school his parents fight more. His grades, never great to begin with, slip further, so no more allowance for Steve. The first time he tries to steals a tape, he's caught almost immediately. But he gets better at it over time. Can't steal tattoos though, and Steve's not a great artist. So maybe he starts dealing. His parents work late most nights, so they don't need to know about his...extracurricular hobbies.

Even if he's not at the top of the high school food chain, Steve's still good at reading people and social situations. I don't think he would have the desire to DM AD&D, but I think Steve makes a good player, always solid at strategizing. In the hallways, he sees and overhears things, enough that he's able to keep the heat off him and his friends with some clever insinuation, and the threat to cut off anyone who tries something.

He sees the way that loudmouth jock Eddie Munson's eyes flick down to his lips when he buys weed off him at parties too, the guy isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is. Steve would love to take him down a couple pegs, if Eddie'd let him.

Thanks to @little-annie for some ideas on fleshing metalhead!Steve out more :D

Edit: check out the role reversal steddie tag for snippets of what Annie and I are writing now :)

No pressure tags to some folks (and if anyone wants to be tagged in the future let me know!): @augustjustice @hbyrde36 @puppy-steve @soaringornithopter

@hairstevington @eyesofshinigami

#steddie #wiggly wednesday #writing games #tinawrites #steve harrington #eddie munson #they're both intended to be bisexual #just wanted to make that clear lol #role reversal steddie

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be-missed · 9 months

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Find You Again (Chap 2)

Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Reuniting as stars, former high school sweethearts stage a fake relationship to boost their public image. Navigating the scripted romance, sparks fly. The big question: can this staged connection reignite their real love?

Warning: curse words, notify me if there are any. Credits to the owner for the picture that I used below the cut. There's a lot of time cut, just because.

A/N: I'm so excited to write this, enjoy. New series for y'all.

Song: South of the Border- Ed Sheeran (Feat Camilla Cabello and Cardi B)

That white dress (you can also see this in Enrique's Instagram)

Masterlist

Chap 2

______________________________________________________________

"What the fuck?" Y/N screamed inside her hotel room when she woke up "I didn't even went home with her, I... I went home with... I don't know what the fuck?" Y/N added clutching her head that's aching. Her publicist enters and said "That's what you get for trashing one of the paparazzi... But he deserve it anyway." Emilia gave the medicine to Y/N and added "Well, going home with Jenna is a much better headline than you assaulting a paps, right?" with a smirk on her face waiting for Y/N's reaction.

Y/N's eye widen with what Emilia said and replied "Hell no, the both of them aren't good for me, they need to be taken down, or like tell the media that I'm with some dude" finding her phone and trying to search a man in her contacts. With a disgusted look earned from her publicist, Emilia said "You would rather be linked with a man?"

Y/N gave Emilia a look that says "I would rather not be involved with anyone." With a smile, Emilia said "There's nothing we can do about it, even if we try to pay the media, we cannot pay the people in the internet, we're gonna be broke" and chuckled.

Y/N was lost with what Emilia said, "What do you mean by that?" Emilia replied "Well, you and Jenna are trending since yesterday up until..." and fished her phone up, opened her twitter and shows Y/N the top trending worldwide "now. Wow, the both of you are still trending."

"Fuck, this can't be, I'm gonna release an album in the next few months." Y/N said trying to pace around the room "Okay, then it's gonna be a good publicity for you" Emilia said that made Y/N stop in her tracks and looked at Emilia "No, it will not be a good publicity. I don't want my songs to be incorporated to that girl."

Emilia gave Y/N a questioning look "Who's 'that girl'?" with a teasing tone and Y/N replied "You know who Emilia..." and Emilia still continues to act clueless. "Jenna Ortega, of course" Y/N said and rolled her eyes.

"As your publicist, I don't see any problem with that. She has a good reputation, no bad issues, and her career is thriving" Emilia stated facts as Y/N tries not to listen because she knows that Emilia is right "Why are you even mad about the issue?" Emilia teased Y/N.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N walks to the bathroom and yells "YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHY EMILIA" and slams the door.

As Y/N was trying to rinse her face hoping her headache will be passed through the water that damps her face, she can't still believe that people will push the her and Jenna together.

On the other side of New York City, Jenna was staring at the wall of her hotel room while chewing her lower lip trying to think how can she get out of this mess.

"Are you okay? What's the matter?" Jenna's publicist asked her while she checks the news outlets and every social media. Jenna stays silent trying to think, until she blurted out "How about a PR Stunt?" She hates the idea of it, being in a fake relationship with someone that she really doesn't care about. "We can have a fake PR Stunt so that the rumors with that singer will stop, once and for all." Jenna suggested.

Wendy, her publicist looked at her and said "You don't need no PR Stunt with anyone, you're career is going well and you have no bad blood with anyone and we're not gonna start that now. She and her team aren't giving statements about it too, so let the rumors be rumors. Not if you want to prove them right, and that's the only thing that you will do if we release a statement and they still keep on seeing you two together." With an annoyed look, Jenna then answered "I just don't want to be linked with that woman, please." She pouted and looked at Wendy, trying to make her idea work.

"No, no stunts will be done and no statements will be released. This rumor is good for the both of you can't you see? The both of your careers are striving so well, her fans are supporting you and vice versa. The public sees you both as a good pair, so why not use Y/N as a stepping stone." Wendy said stating a good point that Jenna herself can't see a hole to poke in. Jenna hates it that Wendy is always right.

With a huff Jenna replied "Ugh, fine, but it will stay as rumors" and went to the bed and plop herself trying to gain more sleep.

---

Weeks after the said rumors have spread, both the singer and the actress went on the low since they didn't want to be seen together. Each of them kept on working privately for their own careers. Y/N doing some major to minor revisions for her album release in the next few months, while Jenna does some photoshoots and guesting in YouTube.

After the MET Gala in May, the both of them were thankful since they haven't seen each other in person. But surely, the rumors from their fans can't die as they sure did have a lot of photos and videos to talk about from the MET and those old photos of the both of them resurfacing from god knows where.

Y/N received a lot of incoming projects just like working for a song that will be played on a movie this coming December, she accepted the work, just for the fact that she will be writing a song; she just loves to write one, okay. Her agent would have explained for what movie it is, but Y/N just asked about how did the love story goes and then started to write one.

As for Jenna, September has been a chill month for her, a few fittings here and there for the Paris Fashion Week next month that she will attend and will be dresses in Dior. She spent her birthday with her family and closest friends. Trying to be more private and be less seen in public to not cause any disturbances in her life.

---

As September flew by with a bat of an eye, October has come with such a busy time for Y/N as she released her new album, every track has become a hit and has settled into the Top 10 songs of Billboard, her albums also sold millions and her songs are played in every radio station, which just means that Jenna, even if she doesn't want to, listened to songs that Y/N released.

Inside the car driving in the roads of Paris, Jenna was seated and a radio blasted a song...

She got the, mmm, brown eyes, caramel thighs

Long hair, no wedding ring, hey.

"EVEN IN PARIS?" Jenna exclaimed, she just arrived from her flight and she can't believe that Y/N is still haunting her. "What? It is a bop. Y/N, Camila, and Cardi did great with the song, you know..." Enrique teased her.

I saw you lookin' from across the way

And now I really wanna know your name

"Why would she even write a song like that?" Jenna tried to argue with Enrique, and her stylist just smiled and said "I mean, she just stated that she wants a woman with brown eyes, caramel thighs, long hair, is single, wears a white dress, and probably a Latina. You know I know someone with the same characteristics" Enrique ended with a teasing smile and a knowing look. "Fuck no" Jenna answered Enrique, trying not to barf herself out with that thought. Why would Y/N wrote a song about her.

She got the, mmm, white dress, but when she's wearin' less

Man, you know that she drives me crazy

"You did wore a white dress, you have brown eyes, hmm you had your hair long, you have beautiful thighs, you are Latina, and I'm pretty sure you're not married" Enrique pushed his luck trying to really into Jenna's nerve. "When did I wore a white dress? Huh?" Jenna tried to challenge Enrique, but as her stylist, of course he knows when did Jenna wore a white dress and answered "You remember that film interview with Melissa, that white dress from Zuhair Murad..." Jenna now remembers, and thought "Oh fucking shit, hell to the fucking no"

Enrique internally laughed at Jenna's reaction while Jenna pulled out her headphones, wore it and opened her phone, as she open her Spotify, she clicks the shuffle play to a playlist. Enrique smiled at what Jenna did, but in all honesty, even if Jenna hides it, Enrique can see that Jenna did enjoy Y/N's songs and even muttered lyrics of it, but only stopped when she noticed herself that she is singing her ex's songs.

In a hotel room in Paris Y/N exclaimed "WAIT, I'M ATTENDING DIOR? Am I not signed in another brand or something?" and Emilia just shrugged "No hun, you will go to Dior, you will meet big names there that will again boost your music and your status, so yes, Dior."

With a loud grunt Y/N started to pace around, which is a thing that she do when she tries to think of a way out for something that Emilia put her into. "Okay, please tell me that Jisoo will attend this show" Y/N says with her eyes closed and fingers crossed, Emilia just stared at her and answered her with a "Yes".

Just as Emilia thought, Y/N is a fan, and going to concert of Jisoo's group will be hard so this is a gift for Y/N and can also be a meeting place for new deals that Y/N needs to attract more people for her art and to gain more attention. But what Emilia didn't say is that Jenna will also be attending the Dior Fashion show. Even though Emilia knows about Jenna and Y/N's past, she can't let the rumor about the two die, since Y/N benefits a lot, she also knew that Jenna is benefiting by the fact that her publicist and her management is not releasing any statement, despite the allegations of Jenna dating Y/N and vice versa.

---

A large crowd has gathered, voices can be heard even from a mile away with how many people have gathered just to see the ladies and gents that Dior has invited.

Jenna with her black dress arrived, strutting down the big area that has been surrounded with people, waving and smiling to every people that calls her name. Walking inside the venue, she gets to meet a lot of people, from businessman, to artist, singers, and models.

A crowd has gathered in the middle of the room and she heard a voice coming from her publicist, "Okay, I don't know if you know her, but Jisoo is a global ambassador of Dior and she is in a group called Blackpink, go make friends." And with that, Jenna started to strut her way to a crowd of people and photographers, with her current status, of course people around her would know who she is, and without a doubt Jisoo and her are asked for a picture together.

On the other side of the venue, Y/N has been doing everything that she can just to meet Jisoo, but to no avail, she is stuck with old business man that has been eating her precious time, talking about old stuff that she really doesn't know. And in every French that will speak to her, she will just answer "oui" because who the fuck understands French? Not me, Y/N thinks.

But of course, the venue isn't as big as the USA or even Paris, so of course Y/N heard whispers that Jenna Ortega is also in the same vicinity as hers, but why would she believe something that she can't even see. Y/N thinks that if Jenna is really in the same place as hers, they would probably meet each other by now.

"You need to take your seat now, the show will start" She can hear Emilia's voice behind her and with a heavy heart, she decided to seat and hopes to meet JIsoo later.

Trying to get comfortable with her seat, a group of men started to walk her way and Y/N thinks "Who the fuck gets guarded like that on a fucking fashion show?" and when the men started to disperse, a lady wearing a high heel that is dressed in long black flowy skirt, a black see-through top, and a jacket with a long white jewelry hanging from her neck; Y/N's eyes travels upward and see's a terrified look on the other person's face.

Y/N's own face contorted with disgust, her fist clench on its own and when a curse word tries to get out of her mouth, a pinch to her side coming from Emilia broke her and said "Act nice." Wide eyed with a tight lipped smile greets the other person that is also trying to contain her emotions because...

"WHAT THE FUCK IS Y/N DOING IN HERE?"

Exactly, that was Jenna's thought when the body guards in front of her started to go to their post and give her her space and lead her to her seat. Her eyes widen, feeling that her blood suddenly is pushing upwards, feeling a little bit dizzy with how much her heart is pumping her blood from the anger that she feels from the inside. Her eyes suddenly moves to the side and looks at her publicist, jut like how her character Wednesday stare at people. Her publicist then whispered to her "Be good, now."

The both of them are now staring at each other, bewildered on how the fuck did they ended up seating next to each other on a Paris Fashion Week, knowing so damn well that there are hundreds of brand that's doing the same thing that they are doing right now.

With forced smiles and a toned down anger, Jenna seats beside Y/N, creating a big space between them that could accommodate another person if they wanted to. The two women, seating side-by-side, thinking of ways on how can they seat through the whole show without murdering each other or just to try to not cause a scene. Jenna did not brought enough patience for this show, if she only knew that Y/N will be here, then she would probably brought a lot of extra patience with her. As for the other girl, if Y/N would have known that Jenna would be here, she would've declined this offer immediately and just attend another show.

Without looking to her side Y/N whispers "what the fuck are you doing here?" Jenna trying not to look at Y/N has her ears ringing from anger with what she heard from the other woman and answered in a hushed tone "the fuck do you mean why am i here?" Y/N then turns her body towards Jenna and stated with a sassy tone "Why are you here? Are you trying to follow me?" This doesn't go unnoticed by Jenna "You're so full of yourself, I don't even know that you're in here you dumbass"

Before Y/N gets to speak, a photographer appeared and asked for a picture of them. With forced smiles, the two girls closed the gap between them and smiled brightly at the camera, acting like they weren't trying to slit each other's throat before he came in.

"Nice, another picture with you" Y/N said with a sarcastic tone, Jenna was trying to do some breathing exercise, praying that she wouldn't lose her cool because if things will just be on her way? She would've smacked Y/N right in the head with her purse. "Wow, who said I like being on one frame with you?" Jenna said with a tone full of disgust.

A cough from behind them ca be heard coming from both of their publicist, and they know so damn well how things will go if they continue to banter. So what they did was to be quiet, smile at the camera and the guests, and watch the fashion show unfold.

Half of the show have passed and Y/N wants to peel her ass from her seat, run to the nearest wall, and just smash her head. She can't stand another second of Jenna nodding at every model and hearing muttered words like how wonderful they are. Y/N moved over to Jenna and whispered "Don't act like you're interested, I know how much this things bore you." Jenna's hand travelled to Y/N's thigh and grips it, hard enough so that Y/N can feel Jenna's nails digging through the fabric of her dress "Shut up."

Y/N yelps and bites her lip to contain a surprised gasp that she just made, Y/N then lightly slaps Jenna's hand, "Don't you dare do that again, you're harassing me" Y/N said trying to threaten and Jenna gasped and pulls her hand away "I'm not harassing you!"

"Girls..." Emilia whispered from behind, with that, the two women sat quietly and tries to keep their hands from trying to pull each others hair. The scene that unfolded earlier where Y/N moved closer to Jenna wo whisper something and Jenna's hand on Y/N's thigh could tell a different story when you watch it from afar. That is why photographers tried to capture it, other guests also noticed the two being closer to each other.

While Y/N and Jenna watched the entire show quietly, both of their publicist seemed to arrived at a certain business deal that would greatly benefit the two stars that they are handling. But they know that this'll need more meetings and contract signings.

---

Dior Fashion show ended a few hours ago, Jenna was just chilling in the living room of her hotel trying to find a new movie to watch, but before she press play, her publicist messaged her that they need to have a dinner meeting to discuss future projects and this one is urgent. So what Jenna did was she got up and went to her dresser trying to find a semi-formal attire to wear and for her to somehow look decent.

In the lobby, there was Wendy, waiting for her with a bag on her hand and a cluster of paper on the other. "Sorry for the late notice, I just got this deal earlier" Wendy said trying to lead Jenna to the Hotel's Restaurant. While walking Jenna thought "Wait... why is my publicist making deals and not my manager?" And it made Jenna stop from walking and looked at Wende and asked "Does my manager know this so-called-deal?" and Wendy just answered "Of course, they're inside with the other party waiting for us" with a suspicious and eerie feeling, Jenna followed suit and walked towards the private room that Wendy entered.

A waiter opened the door on the other side and there was a big table with people who are seated and are talking, on the other side that faces her, she saw her manager, the other party which she guessed are facing their back to her. Wendy ushered Jenna to sit in the middle and while trying to look for the faces for the other party, Jenna feels like she knows the faces of these people. Starting from the right, analyzing her face, her hair, and the paper that is in front of her Jenna thought "Oh, probably she's the publicist" and when she moved from the so-called-publicist left, she sees a scowling face, eyebrows pushed together in the middle, lips are tight, and a rigid body posture, and Jenna thought "No fucking way" ready to run from where she is to the door, her arms were held down by Wendy and is trying to push her down to seat in front of none other than Y/N.

"What is this?" Jenna asked and Y/N "What do you think?" with a biting remark. The two of them holding a staring battle, trying to push each other's luck and trying to feel if the other one is gonna send them a punch or a slap. "Shut up, adults are talking" Jenna said with a smirk and Y/N answered "We are literally the same age, what are you talking about?" and before Y/N gets to add another remark Jenna cut her off and said "Oh yeah? Well the shut up, people who are mature enough gets to talk."

Y/N then stood up from her chair ready to pounce on Jenna when her manager hold her down and forced her to seat down and said "Calm down you two, we are not here to set you both to fight on a boxing ring in Vegas" and the other person in the room chuckles.

"Is this some kind of joke? What am I doing in here?" Y/N asked her manager and her publicist and Emilia answered her "Calm down first and we will explain, please girls." And Y/N tried to calm herself down staring at the wall.

Throughout the entire meeting, both of Y/N and Jenna's manager and their publicist explains how good it will be if the both of them will be in a public relationship. They explained that the media, the public, and their fans loved the two of them together, seeing how the rumor between the two of them isn't dying after months, how their status and fanbase got bigger, and how can this publicity attract more people to support the both of them.

"But I thought I'm gonna be okay without any public relationship?" Jenna said pertaining to what Wendy said and she answered "Well, it still is, but if you are in a relationship with Y/N everything will be better. It's gonna be a win-win situation for the both of us."

"I don't need this, I can do things on my own" Y/N said and her publicist explained "Yes, but it will be more better with a help you know" and that made Y/N furious "Okay, first of all I don't need her charity, I don't need anyone to boost my career. I am talented and that's what I'm gonna use." Then her manager butted in and said "Yes, we didn't mean it in that way Y/N and you know it. You're just gonna help each other out, be each other's stepping stone. When the contract finishes, there will be no bad blood and we will say that things just didn't work out because of schedule."

When Y/N's manager said that, both Y/N and Jenna looked at each other's eye, feeling like it did struck a nerve on the both of them, holding each other's stare for a second, the room went silent. Y/N then looked down at her lap after she caught Jenna stared at her, she plays with the end fabric of the table cloth. Jenna on the other and was just staring at Y/N, biting her lip, trying to say something but she can't eve formulate a word.

"Okay, I think we are done, we can continue this tomorrow, sounds like a plan?" Wendy said collecting the papers in front of her, the managers were standing up and trying to leave the room.

Y/N was still seating and looking down, Wendy and her manager knows so damn well that they need to leave Y/N alone when she went this silent. Jenna was also the same, still seating down in her seat, feeling like someone nailed her to where she is.

With a deep sigh, Y/N raised her eyes in front of her, where Jenna's eyes were awaiting. A lingering sense of familiarity can be felt in line with a feeling of deep longingness and hatred. The air was thick, both of them trying to read each other's mind. Y/N knows Jenna, she knows all of her, but not the one who is seating in front of her. On the other hand Jenna's waiting for Y/N to say something, because she knows Y/N so damn well, she knows her that well. Both of them feels like they were thrown back from where they were, contemplating and thinking on a restaurant.

Y/N and Jenna stared at each other for a second, Y/N's lips opened a few times, trying to say the words that runs through her mind, but failed after a few attempt. Jenna tries to calm her breathing because it seems like everything seems to fall on her shoulders, hitting her like a brick.

This wasn't what they imagined themselves after years of their break-up. They didn't imagine them seeing again, sitting on a restaurant, talking about their relationship. Everything that's happening brings ton of memories from the past that the both of them were trying to bury. So there they were, seated, facing each other, trying not to break down, and praying to whoever listens that this was just a joke, a prank, a dream, just not a reality that they need to face.

____________________________________________________

South of the Border Singer Y/F/N Y/L/N and Actress Jenna Ortega seen Dining together in the City of Love

Y/F/N Y/L/N and Jenna Ortega both attended the 2023 Dior Spring show together and both seated side-by-side, some photographers from the inside released pictures of them getting close to each other and seemingly enjoying each other's presence.

Just as we thought that it will end there, the two stars surprises us with them being together dining in a hotel where Jenna Ortega is currently staying. Sources from the inside told that they dine inside a private room. Both of the stars arrived and went away separately. But this doesn't stop us from getting a moment of them together.

This occurrence only ignites the rumor that Y/N's new songs from the album are all about Jenna. Both of the stars aren't releasing any statements and their agency are still silent about this issue.

Stay tuned for more of this brewing love story that us slowly unfolding in our eyes!

______________________________________________________________

A/N: HI, apologies for the long wait, I hope you like it. I'm open for your thoughts and comments. Thanks again for reading and waiting. Not proofread, so notify me if there are any mistakes.

Tag list:

@hy-uk-ai @ortegalvr @mirage018 @geed-3 @idkjustliving2 @aurora-starwars (sorry just tagged all of you)

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfic #fiction #jenna ortega imagine #findyouagain

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chaconnenha · 20 days

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ENOUGH WITH THE LIES.

I am making this post because people are using a situation where there is genuine fear in the population to spread misinformation, and I’m getting sick and tired of it. Social media—and this is something I cannot stress enough—is not always going to provide completely accurate details so everyone has to remember to take what they’re seeing with a grain of salt. People have been making false claims on very real issues in order to gain views and attention, but without any evidence behind their claims whatsoever.

This post is going to clear up some common misunderstandings being spread in regards to the Moon Taeil incident and Nth Room case that is going down as we speak.

Please note that I’m approaching this subject with objectivity, and I am only using the facts that we know of so far as of making this post. I just want people to make sure they have the correct details before they make judgements and so they don’t go spreading false information in a panic, which is what has been happening these past few days. Also, if you did believe any of the things mentioned in this post and told some others thinking it was real, please keep in mind that this is not an attack on you—this is aimed at the people who started these rumours to begin with.

1. THE VICTIM OF MOON TAEIL

There has been statements flying around that the victim of his alleged sex crime (and I’m using “alleged” because I would be a hypocrite not to, when I’m trying to address the issue of objectivity—so don’t take offence or accuse me of trying to take his side) is a 2006-liner who had been a minor at the time of Taeil’s incident, and who has been trying to press charges for six years. I had also believed this, but upon doing some research of my own, realised this wasn’t stated anywhere officially. According to the official police statement released to the public, the victim in his case is an adult woman. It has never been stated how old the victim was at the time of the crime, and nor has it been stated when the crime actually took place. The details of the victim were rightfully kept anonymous, except that she is not a minor or a male.

2. THE 200 IDOLS IN THE NTH ROOMS

I have no idea where this number came from, but it hasn’t been stated by any reliable news outlet since they’ve begun to cover this topic. Articles have only stated that “professors, famous celebrities, famous athletes, and persons with great fame are included in the list of Nth Room members,” but this was in regards to the original Nth Room case which occurred in 2020. There hasn’t been a figure given by a reliable source for the number of members in the “New Nth Rooms” which are at the centre of news today, in 2024—much less the number of idols involved. The only current relevant topic with a figure of “200” is the deepfake issue, where over 200 female Korean celebrities had their images edited into sexual content. So do not believe any lists that are being made by people on the internet to supposedly “expose” idols.

3. THE NTH ROOMS AND TAEIL CASE CONNECTION

People have been claiming that Taeil was part of one of these “New Nth Rooms” that have blown up. But these are incorrect statements that have probably been made because of the fact that the two incidents are happening at the same time. There is no statement released on whether or not Taeil was involved in any of the rooms. There are no details on the actual crime that Taeil is being accused of (other than that it is sexual in nature) and whether it had to do with stalking or hidden cameras as most people believe. The police investigation is still ongoing and the details have been left scarce. So as far as all current confirmed information is concerned, there is no connection between the two cases as of yet.

#was supposed to stay logged out #but a friend texted me about this in panic of what ppl saying and decided i had to clear things up #now i can finally log off this goodness forsaken app #moon taeil #nct taeil #taeil #nct #kpop bg #kpop boys #kpop men #taeil nct #kpop #kpop news

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the-fo0l · 1 year

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Spencer Reid x gn!reader hcs

Notes: lotta spencer content has him as an asshole, pregnancy, angst, smut, insecure reader...so here's some classic fluff

Warnings: fluff!, earlier seasons reid +he's kind of a simp (and a bit subby ;))

the way his eyes just absolutely light up whenever he sees you <3

the man's a total genius, but only in the book-smart way, socially, he's a little...stunted

he's very much not used to any proper form of love, so you're gonna have to be a bit patient with him while he gets used to it

but believe me he is trying his very best cause he does not want to dissapoint you

at first he thought your love of his rambles was just a way to make fun of him

but since you seem to actually like listening to him talk, he'll take the opportunity to ramble to you about anything and everything on his mind

which the team appreciates, he has an outlet to rant to, someone to attend his geeky events with, and most importantly, someone reliable to support him

(they are still annoyed when he's constantly on the phone with you, meanwhile there's an active crime scene a few meters away)

before you two started dating he probably already considered you his best friend who he totally neverrrr had a crush on (sarcasm)

he was blushing, stuttering, jittery mess when he asked if he may be your boyfriend

and yes, that's how politely he asked

or at least he tried to, you had to cut off his blabbering with a "yes"

how could you ever say no to such a charming, lovable, polite young man

plus yk...he's cute as hell

the type to go out of his way to wake up early to make your coffee and breakfast just the way you like

wearing matching rings, either with each other's initials or some nerdy inside joke

he absorbedly teases the ring on his finger when he misses you

whenever someone mentions you he gets visibly more engaded in the conversation, and the team teases him like crazy for it

like, sometimes the crew'll pretend to be talking about you and watch how reid immediatly perks up from whatever file he was buried in and turns to look where the he heard your name be spoken. and he falls for it every. fucking. time

gushes to you about any new interesting books, reseach, interesting statistics, facts, events etc

in a similar vein, he'll get caught in gushing to the gang about how cool and smart and funny his partner is

rizzes you up w magic tricks

but can't handle you flirting with him, he's smiling like an idiot and bashfully looking away, with his face all red

a lot of people say he wouldn't like pda, and i get it, but i think if you've been together long enough and he feels comfortable around you he's not shy about expressing it, verbally or physically

i mean yeah, it's not "all up in your face" pda, it's with smaller affectionate gestures

vents all his thoughts, concerns and emotions out to you, and listens attentively and patiently when you have to vent

falls in love with you all over again listening to you get caught up talking about your interests/opinions

man's capable of easily retaining encyclopedias worth of info, so anything and everything you tell him gets commited to his database of a mind

be it the most insignificant gossip or tiniest detail about your childhood, you best belive he's never forgetting that shit

tries his best to not profile you or try to explain your emotions to you, but really he dosen't need to be told twice when it comes to learing the intricacies of realationship ettiquette

he's never dated anyone before and he's about as nervous as he is excited

deeply fears disappointing you, hates the thought of being a burden to you, so hearing affirmations of your love verbally means a lot

more than anything he needs a solid positive presence to help him deal with his emotions

so if he's had a really bad day, or a rough case, he comes to your front door and just totally breaks down and falls into your arms, crying into your shoulder

if anything traumatic were to happen to him, you're the first person he needs to be there

and if he woke up in a hospital bed he'd immediately start asking for you, rather frantically too

and if the event is traumatic enough, he may become a bit codependent, at least for a week during the recovery process

used to get jittery around you from nerves, now it's from the uncontainable happiness he feels being around you

his kisses are so shy and inexpirenced but also so, so needy and desperate

he'd die if you ever custom made a puzzle or quiz with questions about your relationship, like he'd be so overjoyed, literally would never shut up about it

(he'd nail it ofc)

reid usually isn't one for physical affection, like, not at all

but it's completely the opposite with you, he can't seem to keep himself away

and the guy is starved for touch...or really affection of any kind, so whenever he can, he clings onto any part of you he can

sits on your lap facing you, it's like you guys' favorite relaxing position, it's so intimate

follows you around like a puppy, all giddy and stupid with love

always holds your hand or onto your forearm while walking beside you

cuddles very close, tightly intertwined with you

you'll have to squirm and push while he just pulls himself closer into the crook of your neck

or yk just tickle his sides when he least expects it

reads to you, odds are whatever book it is, he's already read it, dozens of times over if it's a classic or scientific. he very well could just recite it but if there wasn't a book to look at, he'd have to look at you which would make him get distracted and trail off

which you'd, of course, playfully tease him for

in conclusion, you're never allowed to break up with him, i don't make the rules, it's the law

#there's just something about geniuses with a touch of the tism #dont judge okay i wrote this idk when #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanon #sorry ive been forgetting to post w school starting again #working on sum exciting stuff

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techramonic · 3 months

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An Interview with Galina Roslyakova: Vlad’s personal life according to his mother

A year after the shooting, BAZA, a Russian news outlet, interviewed Vlad’s mother Galina Roslyakova. Here are several details she had disclosed about her son:

He was gifted in drawing and engineering, however was an average student.

When he was younger, Vlad attended a kindergarten in Kerch with a chess focus. His mother considered him as a normal child who had an interest in drawing. He had hobbies such as architectural modeling, construction, and designing. He had a particular fascination with airplane models that he would try to configure by himself, although his father would occasionally help.

He then continued to paint throughout his life and excelled at it, Galina believes he inherited this skill from his father, Igor. Vlad mostly expressed an interest in drawing domestic animals and portraits of people. He focused a lot on the details.and drew rather thoroughly. Unfortunately, she has none of his drawings left to reminisce.

In school, he was “statistically average”. He studied for at least three to five hours and was in the middle line of poor to excelling. He didn't dislike nor have an interest in school and had no specific goal yet. According to Galina, “Not all dreams can be realized.” So in a pragmatic sense, his parents tried to instill something that would have perhaps helped him by trying to search for something suitable for his life and future. She had also described Vlad to be somewhat confused or unsure of himself:

“You can show a different side of yourself. You can realize yourself somewhere else. And this period of transition from school to college was somehow unconscious. A lot depends on how this might turn out. Every person's views and values change. Children must realize during this period that they are growing up primarily for themselves. He understood that he was not quite a child and not quite an adult.”

Vlad did not finish highschool and went straight to college, explaining why he was 18 during his 4th year.

Galina and Igor saw no point in enrolling him into 10th and 11th grade because it was unclear to them that he would graduate at all, seeing that his academic performance was mediocre at best. During his transition from highschool to college, Galina recalled it to be a stressful experience, “just like any other transition”, she says. She had attended all parent meetings and recalled that teachers would often describe her son to be socially inept. He was not keen on socializing but she figured this must have been his way of coping with his adaptation, since it was a contrasting environment to what he was used to.

“I went to all parent meetings. At the beginning of the training they were carried out. I talked with curators and other teachers. There was a phrase that he was not very sociable . Not all people are open and ready to communicate with others. At that time it was a period of adaptation. Everyone tolerates it differently, but I wouldn’t say that he had a difficult time with it.”

More on relationships, since their house was located in a residential area not far from other neighbors who lived nearby, Vlad easily could communicate with a few neighborhood kids whom his mother considered to be his “friends”. Rather, they were his classmates.

“I think Vlad chose exactly those friends who suited him according to his views and interests at that period of his life when he was at school. He also played Minecraft. Well, of course, communication there is no longer only with classmates.”

Vlad still kept in contact with his father despite his mother's wishes to not be so in touch.

Technically, Vlad's parents were not officially divorced. Igor’s traumatic brain injury which subsequently led to the development of a mental illness was seen by Galina as a danger toward her and her son if they continued to live together. Coupled with the fact that he developed a dependency on alcohol, she had figured out that she had to make the resolution to move out with her son to protect their well-being. Despite this, Galina mentions that even with their separation, Vlad still communicated with his father, since it is a relationship not within her control. At first, Vlad was offended but as he grew, he began to contemplate the idea of his mother’s decision. He continued to communicate with his father as he grew older.

“With age, he made his own decision. He begins to make his choice whether he should communicate with his father. What will this give him and does he need it? That is, he could decide for himself. That is, in this regard, I gave him freedom of choice.”

He would often go to the garage together on weekends, which developed Vlad's interest in technology and personal interests like motorcycles, which he would’ve liked to study. Vlad then on became a major in the course: installation, commissioning and operation of electrical equipment of industrial and civil buildings.

Signs of isolation and depression were under the radar since he barely communicated.

Apart from the detail that teachers have said he was rather not very sociable, closer to the third year he already became withdrawn and kept to himself. He would often divert this topic of his behavior as his ‘right to privacy’ whenever asked, so no further questions would ensue. He was silent most of the time, got ready to go to class straight away and sat in his room ("another office") to scroll through his phone. He was quiet, didn't talk about himself that much, which led her to not anticipate the events that would unfold soon after. However, she said that she could sense a slight change in him, since he became more private. She did respect his boundaries however, since she saw it as his right to personal space.

“Well, slightly, so to speak. Because, in principle, many people reach such a period and age, and so, in communicating with their friends who have children of this age, many children tend to have, so to speak, personal space. Personal life, this is how the period begins. You know, like “I have the right to personal space, ‘I have the right to privacy.’ Within reason, because we live together in the same apartment”

Did he need more attention? Galina expresses that although she didn't primarily focus on him at all times, she did care for him and paid attention. She tried to make him talk and actively made efforts to communicate with him to get him to open up more about himself, however to no avail. So, in an outward perspective, everything seemed rather normal for her, and with the lack of properly established and structured communication, it was difficult to see through her son. After all, you cannot properly fit in puzzle pieces when there are no pieces provided to arrange.

It was difficult for her to speculate about the topic of whether or not he was depressed, nor did she anticipate that somehow he felt abandoned because he would often just sweep things under the rug. The signs didn’t manifest in any way in everyday life because again, he was very secretive and rarely talked about himself in conversations at home, so things easily fell out of notice and undetected.

“What percentage of love do children want to receive from us? Do we feel this as parents? Or if they tell us, let’s say: 'Well, at the technical school there were difficult tasks and classes, I’m so tired that I don’t want to communicate.' And you are trying to do everything to make contact with him. The children say: 'Well, I don’t want to now.' You won't really force him too much... But you still have to try to do it. Basically, I tried to do all this. What provoked it, I can’t say anything. For me, all this still remains a big, big secret as a mother. I cannot put together logic and specific pieces of the puzzle for myself. Therefore, everything remains like this.”

Vlad's online presence was monitored until the age of 14.

Galina had monitored his online access until he was around the ages of 13 to 14. After the age of 16, this period however stopped because of the gap between parents and their children's familiarity with devices and the technologicaĺ world. So, she stopped keeping track.

“I wished in my heart that somewhere they had slowed him down.”

She was unaware of his online presence in crime communities since 2016. According to her, at home he only sat and played minecraft,

“I didn't see this. If a person really wants to hide something... Maybe he did it sometimes, but not in my presence. At home he sat and played Minecraft. He talked there with one, then with another, then boys, then girls - they all communicate with each other there, laugh. There were different emotions, there was laughter.”

She was aware that he went to study firearms in the summer.

Vlad shared a common interest with his father with firearms. He also said he would join the army. Galina speculated that this might be due to the benefits, since the income of military salaries was fairly high. Vlad earned an internship at a plant prior to this, and it was good news for her but in reality, Vlad's perspective was that he did not generally take a liking to the place.

According to him, “I talked to the people who work there, I don’t see much prospects in income and in general my place in this.”

During the summer, he then began to study firearms through the internet and via the Internet, register with government services, and collect documents. She was against this act because she saw no purpose to this, however, she couldn't stop him. He excused this by saying he had an interest in hunting. Though she initially thought that he had given up on this prospect and moved on, since these documents were rather complex and difficult to complete, he then went on to successfully buy a gun after passing the exams and receiving his license.

She hadn't known of this, of course, since it was reported that he hid his gun in an abandoned warehouse to avoid speculations from her.

Here's the article, if you want to read more:

https://baza.io/posts/1b2005f5-d53e-4380-989d-b6f846cd6aab

#vladislav roslyakov #kerch polytechnic 2018 #vlad #understandnotcondone

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