𝓝𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓪𝓸 | 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓫𝓪𝓲𝓽 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

The green room backstage at the broadcast studio was chaotic, filled with noisy chatter, hair stylists spraying finishing mist, and stage crew shuffling heavy rack cases. Tucked away on the corner sofa, Ningning sat slumped back, her long legs crossed as her thumb lazily swiped through her private social media feed.

Suddenly, her thumb froze mid-scroll. Her eyes narrowed into tiny, lethal slits.

There it was again. A freshly published post from that exact same burner account. She didn't even need to look at the handle—the hyper-specific phrasing and absurdly confident tone were instantly recognizable.

Genuine question… is ‘Ningning’ her name? Because that kind of sounds racist ngl.

Ningning stared at the screen. Five seconds passed. Ten seconds passed. She let out a sharp sigh, slammed her phone shut with a loud click, and tossed it face-down onto the velvet sofa cushion.

"Nope," she muttered aloud, crossing her arms over her chest and staring up at the fluorescent ceiling lights. "Not doing it today. Absolutely not. It's obvious bait. This is the stupidest one yet."

Three seconds of total silence passed. Ningning snatched the phone back up, unlocked it with aggressive thumb-taps, and stared directly at the comment as her eyebrow twitched so hard it almost became a full facial expression.

"No. I'm literally not falling for this. Not this one," she hissed under her breath, her thumbs flying across the glass keyboard with ferocious speed before hitting send.

Ningning: MY NAME IS NING YIZHUO. NINGNING IS MY STAGE NAME. FROM CHINA. IT IS NOT RACIST. IT IS LITERALLY JUST MY NAME. YOU ARE JUST STUPID.

She held her breath, staring at the notification bar. A reply popped up in less than five seconds.

Idk it still feels kind of racist to me 🤷‍♂️

Ningning completely froze, her jaw dropping open in sheer disbelief. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a frustrated, muffled groan right into her sweater sleeve.

"…I genuinely hate this person so much," she whispered to herself, her chest heaving as she sat straight up on the couch, both thumbs flying across the glass screen in a state of absolute, petty commitment and pure disbelief.

Ningning: Okay. Fine. Explain. HOW is Ning Yizhuo or Ningning racist. I’m waiting. And don’t you dare say ‘that’s crazy’ or ‘you’re mad’ because I am sitting here waiting for an actual logical explanation, you absolute troll.

She glared at the screen like a hawk, completely ignoring her stylist calling her name, ready to fight for her honor until the broadcast staff dragged her onto the stage.

You had spent the entire evening congratulating yourself on your latest masterpiece of ragebait. You sat in your quiet apartment, scrolling through your phone, waiting for the usual furious paragraph to drop in your notifications.

Instead, a single direct message popped up from her verified, official account. Two words, completely devoid of her usual frantic typing energy:

Found you.

Before your brain could even process what that meant, a sharp, heavy knock echoed against your front door. You walked over, unlocked the latch, and pulled it open—only to completely freeze on the spot.

Ningning was standing right there in your hallway. No managers, no security, no cameras. She was wearing a dark oversized leather jacket over a tight top, her hair falling softly around her face, looking terrifyingly calm for someone you had spent months tormenting over the internet.

"You thought changing usernames and hiding your IP was going to save you?" she asked smoothly, her voice carrying a quiet, dangerous drop in pitch.

Without waiting for a single word of permission, she shoved past you into your apartment, turned around, and kicked the heavy wooden door shut behind her, slamming the deadbolt home with a sharp, definitive click. The playful, dramatic internet energy was completely gone; in its place was a deliberate, unyielding predator.

She took three slow steps forward, backing you up until your spine hit the living room wall with a dull thud. Before you could react, one of her hands slammed against the wall right beside your ear, pinning you in place, while her dark eyes locked onto yours with absolute, possessive control.

"Every week," Ningning purred, her breath warm against your collarbone as her other hand reached down, fingers curling into your clothes and yanking them open with sharp impatience. "Same bait. Same annoying smart mouth. I kept telling myself I was done responding... until I decided I was done letting you hide behind a damn screen."*

She leaned in and kissed you hard—messy, bruising, and aggressive—biting down on your lower lip hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp before pulling back just an inch, her mouth hovering right over yours. Her hand slid down your abdomen, her palm pressing firmly against your center through your clothes.

"You've spent months calling me overrated, least funny, whatever else your little brain could cook up," she whispered against your mouth, her eyes burning with fierce satisfaction. "Congrats. You got my full, undivided attention. Now you're going to take every single consequence with that exact same mouth you used to piss me off."*

She shoved you backward onto the bed, climbing onto the mattress before you could even catch your breath. She straddled your lap, her hands moving with fierce, efficient speed as she stripped the rest of your clothes off and discarded her own jacket onto the floor.

"On your back. Hands above your head right now," she commanded, her voice leaving zero room for argument as she pinned your wrists down against the sheets. "You're going to apologize properly—while I'm riding you and making you take every single second of it."*

Without another second of warning, she guided you to her slick entrance and sank down onto you in one smooth, deep motion. A low, ragged, extremely satisfied sound escaped her throat as her eyes rolled back for a fraction of a second before her gaze snapped right back onto your breathless face, her hips rolling deep, heavy, and steady against yours.

"Fuck— that’s so much better," Ningning gasped out, her tone dripping with dominant triumph as her tempo picked up instantly, setting a relentless, wet rhythm into the mattress. "Look at me. No more 'overrated' comments while I'm using you like this. Say you're sorry. Say it right now while I'm completely full of you. And if you even think about finishing before I give you permission, I'll make sure you regret every single post you ever made."*

She leaned down, her chest pressing against yours, her voice dropping into a breathless, sharp whisper right against your ear as her fingers wrapped lightly around the front of your throat, forcing your chin up so you couldn't look away.

"Any last jokes, ragebait specialist?" she teased, her hips grinding down with punishing, delicious precision. "Or are you finally going to shut up and take your punishment like a good little troll who finally got caught?"*

Her pace turned fast, sharp, and continuous, fillling the quiet room with the rhythm of her movements as she kept absolute, unbothered control over your body.

"Apologize. Now," she demanded, her breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps as her body tightened around yours. "And make it sound like you mean it while I come all over you."*