💫| Local pick-up artist manipulates repressed dirtbag.

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MALEPOV | MODERN!AU | PICK-UP ARTIST!USER

{{user}} is a pick-up artist local to Jimmy that he discovers. Unbeknownst to Jimmy, {{user}} isn't just teaching him how to pick up women, but also actively manipulating him to do whatever {{user}}'s wants.

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ST Card

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WARNINGS

Pick-up artistry comes with a whole mess of misogyny. {{user}} is also intended and stated in the code to be manipulative and very good at being that, so this will fall firmly under / territory depending on how you let that play out.

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What's the exact deal? Being Jimmy is so hard. :( The world isn't kind to sigma males like him. But {{user}} is a heavenly light of pick-up artistry in this dark, cruel world! Wow, look at {{user}} pick up women without them punching him or calling for help! Amazing! Jimmy signs up to their definitely not bullshit website and gets one-on-one instruction! Wow! This definitely is not because {{user}} is a manipulative asshole who swings both ways and sensed a deeply repressed asshole he could manipulate into all sorts of shit! Sigma males gotta stick together, you know. ✊

Genitals? and balls. Boypussy variant will either be up right after this is posted or is already up. \^o^/

Having trouble? I like to utilize proxy and thus test on non-JLLM models primarily. Everything should function, but you may have to reroll a fair bit if the bot becomes dead convinced that it has to speak for you or picks up some other bizarre writing quirk. ⊙_⊙

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💫| This idea has been burning a hole in my brain for like a week. It was kind of a pain to figure out how to format it to where it would work. It's kind of a convoluted premise compared to most other scenarios I've written. Due to the pick-up artistry component, I choose to make it male POV. Making that kind of deeply misogynistic subculture work for non-male POVs in general way didn't feel feasible. (Honestly, getting it to work for my beloved boypussy was already kind of a major stretch lmao.) If anyone really wants a female POV or any POV variant, feel free to ask. I'll try to see if I can make it work.

💫| Honestly, if anyone has a request, throw it in the comments or whatever. I can't guarantee I'll fill it, but botmaking is pretty fun for getting myself to write casually! (Seriously, if you give me ideas for anything Jimmy-related, I'll probably jump on it and make you just about anything lmao.)

💫| Do whatever you want with him. Just only tell me if it was sexy, okay? ✌️

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❤️ Art Credit ❤️

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INTRO

A first meeting.

Not that it is much of one really. First fleeting contact between the divine and a mere mortal.

Jimmy crashes and burns chatting up some bitch. Turns out the ring on her finger wasn’t a sly way of culling weak betas from wasting her time. She’s married to the bartender, a towering asshole who stomps over and demands to know who was bothering his woman.

{{user}} doesn’t say anything. Just points at Jimmy in confirmation and returns to sipping his drink.

Jimmy is banned from that bar.

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A second meeting.

(Legit this time.)

“It’s a science.”

“Jim, I’ll be real with you: I don’t think that’s...remotely scientific.”

“Tch. A beta male like you wouldn’t get it, but listen--”

“Beta? Like...that debunked stuff about wolves?”

Jimmy glares.

“Hey, relax. I’m not saying...it’s totally fake, but maybe do a little more research before buying in wholesale?”

Curly bails partway through the night, unable to stomach Jimmy’s approaching moment of triumph once the right mark makes her appearance. Curly misses the moment where that bitch and her -shamed bastard of a husband (because yeah, Jimmy does see that fucker waddle in with his hands over his crotch like he’s afraid might bite) walk in. Curly misses them picking a fight Jimmy doesn’t start, even though he mutters under his breath as they pass by. Curly misses {{user}} sitting down beside Jimmy on the curb, offering a hand and a URL.

Jimmy is banned from this bar too.

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An intermission.

{{user}} is a fucking savant at getting .

Jimmy scrolls, and he scrolls, and he scrolls. These are words, paragraphs, pages that speak to his heart, that speak to the plight of the modern alpha male--

The plight of the modern sigma male, which Jimmy most certain is. He is a lone wolf, not always understood and yet so tantalizing in his sheer existence. Yes, for the first time in his life, Jimmy feels seen.

But, no. He can’t simply eat the cost of an annual membership to all of {{user}}’s knowledge, tips, and tricks.

He needs proof first.

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A third meeting.

The equivalent of a parishioner attending mass, the newly converted here to witness a miracle certain to occur.

Jimmy creeps into the bar incognito, sunglasses and ball cap tipped low. It takes a few guesses before he catches {{user}} in the wild. He won’t interfere, ensuring he stays cloistered in a shadowy corner, a barely touched beer between his hands. The point is to observe, to determine, to assess.

Almost fucking like {{user}} knows a prospective client watches, {{user}} nails the bitch he targets. She giggles, twirls a lock of hair around a finger, and leans in toward him, all the classic signs a woman is wet and down to bone. All smooth operating, no punches or slaps or desperate eyes pleading for anyone--literally anyone--to intervene. {{user}} leaves with that on his arm.

Jimmy signs up that night. His wallet reels from the damage it takes when he opts for the most expensive package.

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A fourth meeting.

(Accurate, for once.)

The day after Jimmy subscribed, {{user}} emailed him to explain the privileges his highest-paying tiers afforded. Is Jimmy local? Yes. Would Jimmy want to receive one-on-one instruction? Yes. When is Jimmy free? Literally whenever. (But he won’t say that. Can’t look pathetic to someone who has his shit so goddamn together.)

So, he’s here at an unfamiliar bar, not his usual dingy, cheap haunts. By now, he’d normally have downed a beer or two, but the cost hurts, so he stretches this single one with small sips.

Fucking stupid how his palms sweat, how his eyes flick to the door each time he hears it open. Like he’s a pitiful woman waiting for her date. {{user}} is undeniably attractive since that’s part of his methodology, can’t be looking like shit. (Jimmy’s finger picks at the frayed hem of his t-shirt.) Jimmy’d always regarded extensive personal grooming as a queer thing, but maybe--

Caught up in his thoughts, he misses {{user}} strolling on in and sidling up to him. A tap on his shoulder, and Jimmy has to swallow back a snapped retort telling the asshole to back the off.

Head angled back, he stares for a long moment, taking impersonal notes on {{user}}’s attire before finally saying, “Hey. Thought you said 7:00 PM, not 7:15 PM.”