𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋

three

CONVERSATION WITH: PIETRO

______

PIETRO
Hey baby girl

PIETRO
Wyd

RYDER
i fuckin WAS watching
law and order but now i
guess im texting you
(not sent!)

RYDER
nothing. just bored.

PIETRO
Wanna put on the outfit
you talked about before?

RYDER
the one you forced
me to talk abt?
(not sent!)

RYDER
ah - the yellow one?

PIETRO
Ugh don't do yellow.
I hate yellow.

RYDER
alrighty

PIETRO
You're so hot.
I can't wait.

RYDER
and what if i don't want to?

PIETRO
Oh cmon you got
my number for a
reason, didn't you?

RYDER
suck my dick
(not sent!)

RYDER
right

__________________

**mature

The sun begins to set as Ryder lets out a low sigh, situating herself in front of her full body length mirror, sitting on the ground practically nude. The baby pink lace accentuates her perky breasts and hard nipples after rolling them between her fingers, contrasting against her tanned skin. She angles her hips slightly to the right, trying to get the curve of her ass in the shot. The lace makes her skin itch but her boobs look fantastic.

The lingerie criss crosses across her abdomen and wraps around her hips, meeting at her tailbone and wearing as a thong — though, the lining is moved towards the sides so her folds are out, fingers dancing around her core, teasing herself because she knows she's not gonna get anything cum worthy from Pietro, so the only way she can satisfy herself is...with herself.

The girl lets her wavy brown locks cascade around her breasts, a messy look that is arousing in this context. Her plump lips are covered in the sparkling lip gloss from Finn, and she doesn't bother with her eyes since those and her nose are never in any pictures.

She has boundaries.

If the photos ever leak, at least her face isn't really in the pictures. She needs some sort of dignity left after sending these. The degradation of being forced to send nudes is almost catastrophically pathetic.

Ryder is a beautiful girl. She has long and wavy, dark brown hair that's thick but not enough to the point where it's too heavy on her shoulders. Her skin is a golden tan; her Filipino background being something she's loud and proud about in the schools of America. Because of her skin color and her bright blue eyes, she looks beautiful with light colored clothing that contrast against her dark complexity. Well, she looks pretty in anything, especially baby pink or blue.

Her eyes are the most captivating, though. Contrasting from her dark hair, her baby blue eyes light up the void and match the sky they live under. She practically glows.

Ryder knows she's pretty. She knows. But she hates when other people only treat her as a pretty face, expecting sex or nudes just because she's a beautiful girl. Her old boyfriends did that. People still do that. She's treated like a plastic barbie with this box she lives in, a box people think her whole life revolves around. People think the box contains booze and sex and nothing nice — she's just a pretty face, what more can she be? The box cannot possibly contain anything other than those things, like intelligence and integrity.

She doesn't think anyone besides her close friends know she's one of the top in the class, in hopes of pursuing a career in marine biology. She doesn't think anyone besides her close friends know she got a scholarship from Duke to study said marine biology and the overarching issue of plastic in the oceans. She doesn't think anyone besides her close friends know she has five graduation ropes for the end of the year, and a shot at being valedictorian. Although, she wants to settle for salutatorian.

The girl sighs, the thought of what she has become haunts her. She never wanted to be this: this Barbie in a plastic box, one who says yes to sex and nudes and doesn't refuse, one who goes through the motions like a robot as greasy jocks have the best orgasm of their life, one who longs for a sense of stability, of integrity. She wants a nice boyfriend, one who actually cares about her, one who knows her birthday and gives her a kiss on the forehead out of the blue, one who isn't afraid to be her person despite the repercussions that come with her. She's said to be too pretty for a relationship, too much of a whore. Who'd want to date her?

So many people have called her a whore that she just sticks with it, knowing she'll be nothing more.

Ryder snaps from her trance, looking at herself in the mirror before continuing what she prepares herself for. And after taking a few pictures and editing a few to make them look pretty, she settles on the perfect one, and she's tempted to send it to the chat since she debates it's her best one yet. The lingerie is just perfectly in place, her lips are slightly parted, breasts pushed up and shadowed from the light, making them bigger. She knows this'll give Pietro what he wants, and after this she can block him, never talk to him again, never be pressured into sending pictures again.

Ryder wearily smiles to herself as she begins to change back into her pajamas, folding the lingerie neatly and hiding it in her underwear drawer. Putting on plaid shorts and a large sweatshirt, she yawns, seeing the time is nearing midnight. It's usually around the time she goes to bed on a school night, given her homework is massive and she normally spends the majority of her time doing school related things.

She glances at her desk in the corner of her room, seeing her classwork nearly sprawled out across it, thinking of all those times she spent sitting there, either doing homework until 2 am, or planning the next student run program all by herself, or organizing her college applications and essays she dedicated her heart to. She remembers those nights, the nights that seem impossible to move on from, the nights that seem to drag on forever and the nights that seem like the work never truly ends. She remembers the tears, the drives of inspiration, the satisfaction of creating works she's proud of. She remembers the sacrifice that comes with being both pretty and smart — the fact that people focus on the face rather than the brain.

Padding against her carpet floor, she lazily walks to the other side of the room to turn on her fan, something that is background noise and allows her to sleep with ease. Her eyes are lethargically glued to her screen, blinking sleepily as she types out his name with one thumb, yawning again as she fills out the automatic name filler after typing in P.

Choosing the photo and pressing send without any further thought, the clueless girl goes to bed, not knowing what she has done.

Whereas a boy out patrolling gets the most extreme notification he's ever gotten.