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slu7formen · 19 days ago

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MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 🎃

you prepare luke’s make-up for halloween night

warnings: just pure sexual tension 🫦

₊˚⊹♡

"You´ll be taking care of me, little Red Hood?" Luke asked, sitting down on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room at cabin eleven.

Your silk red skirt brushed the back of your thighs as you turned around, cleaning the last bit of face paint from a thin brush. "I will, Mr. Castellan" you joked.

The cabin is packed, like most of the time, but today was for a different reason. A bunch of Hermes´ boys were getting their make up done by you and your sisters, the reason? Halloween night. It was kind of a tradition for the Aphrodite cabin to help out with the costumes for the big party. And as much as a pain it is to help all the campers, you couldn´t deny that it was fun to pick out what your friends should be dressing out as for tonight and then doing their makeup to match the costume, and right now, it was time to help the worst breed; the boys.

They were men, therefore, they were basic, they´ve all decided to dress up as skeletons.

Soft pop music was playing inside the cabin as you felt a faint smell of cherries and hot chocolate. It was a comforting yet fun place to be at right now, like a beauty salon, but chill and without the white lights and burning chemical smells. More of your sisters were currently taking care of some other boys´ make up, painting their faces in black and white scary features that would barely make them look human at night, and now, it was Luke´s turn.

Luke´s face was already quite chiseled, like those marble Greek statues. You stepped back a second to take a good look at his face; sharp features, big nose, small eyes, plushy lips. Good, this would be fun.

"Alright" you state, "Just stay still and let me do all the work"

You leaned in slightly, starting to draw the outline of Luke´s face with a white make-up pencil. You and Luke stood silent, unlike the rest of the campers who kept on chatting and screaming at each other due to failed skeleton features. You planned on doing the simple; a white or pale base with black features like eyes, nose, cheekbones and mouth, maybe even some shadows, just like you did with Connor and Travis, who specifically asked for you to prepare them.

"I didn´t know you were so good at this" Luke finally spoke, anticipating to break the ice a little.

"What can I say?" you smiled, "I have many hidden talents"

You continued on, working in the lines, making the transition between the white and his perfectetly tanned skin. He was such a lovely canvas, his skin was clean, and smooth. You were actually a little scared to end up making him look bad. "Your jawline´s perfect" you muttered as you dragged the pencil there, more to yourself than to him.

Luke chuckled, "Is it now?"

You only dart your eyes away from your work to look into his eyes for a second, then back to your progress. Your teeth barely show as you smile a little, glossy red lips only shining brighter. "Okay, don´t get all cocky now" you tease.

Luke was used to flirting with everyone he met, and of course, people flirting back. But seeing you so focused on his face, the pen working on his face with you so close to him, gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You felt so close. Luke could smell a faint scent of cherries coming from you, and the hairspray of your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your body too, standing so close to him, your body leaning down towards his face, making him look upwards to take a look at your face. You hissed then, taking a soft grip of your lower back, "Shit" you whisper. You were uncomfortable, being hunched over for so long.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah" you reply, "Just-, my back´s killing me. I´ve been like this for an hour" you explain, you´ve been in the same position for the past other two boys you prepared.

Luke looked concerned for a second. So he shifted on his seat then, opening his thighs, basically welcoming you.

You stood speechless, pencil in hand as you chuckled softly, unable to react, or move.

"Come on" he urged you softly, his eyes locking on yours as he patted his thigh. You knew he wasn´t inviting you to sit there, —even though he wouldn´t complain if you did—, rather than in between them. "I don´t bite"

You scoff then, shaking your pencil in between your fingers. Your boots step into the tiny space then, back straightened as you only have to look down to Luke´s face, "Sure you don´t" you reply.

He lets out a short chuckle, tilting his face up to maintain eye contact. The air feels weirdly tense. Your fingers take a soft hold of his chin as you tilt his head a little more up, dragging the pencil over the lines once again; just in case. Luke´s eyes remain open, taking a look at your costume.

A deep scarlet skirt almost too short paired with tall, heeled backboots and a white button-up that hugged your figure just perfectly, and the black corset over it did just the rest of the magic, along with, of course, the red silk cape and hood.

"You look great" he muttered out, trying to get a reaction out of you.

You stop your movements for a second, looking at him dead in the eye again, but with a serious face, only to go back to your job as if he said nothing. "Great doesn´t cover it" you reply, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckled at that. You had no idea how right you were. You were gorgeous in that outfit and he could swear you looked like a damn goddess, a vision come to life just to taunt him.

"Cocky-" he muttered with a playful smile.

"Don´t move" you interrupt, leaning down a little bit more just for a second, the thin pencil brushing past the outline of his lips.

Your face was closer to his now, the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded.

Luke had that type of aura; the one that was always surrounded by a nice scent. The type that made you want to lean in closer, the type that was warm and comforting, yet he was no sweet pea, but a little more rough. Manly, with his legs spread open like that for you to stand in between, or for you to sit whenever you liked.

And with his face so close to you, you made and observation; Luke was handsome.

Very.

Just when you finished tracing the outlines of his eyes, lips, and cheekbones, you turned around to dip a pencil into some black face paint. Luke remained politely silent, lips closed and hands over his thighs as he followed your every movement. He was watching you intently as you worked. You looked so focused and careful, like it was an important and serious job, and for gods sake, it was Halloween makeup. He wondered if you were just doing it so perfectly to impress him, which was working, and Luke had to admit it was cute to see you so fixated on his face.

He could feel his heart pound in his chest. Sitting there, having you so close, all he could think of was touching you. How could he not when you were wearing such clothes that he loved?

Of course he wouldn´t. He was patient, and he was very much enjoying the game so far. But you were so close , it was so tempting. And he did have a very bad self-control.

You took your sweet time blending the black paint over Luke´s face with a small brush. He was being an obedient boy, sitting still, with no smart remarks coming from his mouth. How rare.

He enjoyed just watching you, watching your expression change slightly as you applied more and more paint on, watching the tip of your tongue dart out of your mouth every once in a while. It was so hard to keep his hands tucked into balled-up fists on his thighs.

But he wouldn´t stop staring at you, your face.

But you stepped back, pencil on your hand and a small smile growing on your glossy lips, but your brows furrow. You were slightly confused. Luke stared back, not a single expression on his face. His face was sharp looking, focused, stone. And the black paint was doing nothing but only making him look more-, attractive.

"Don´t look at me like that" you smile barely, more confused than actually chilled about what was happening.

"Like what?" He asked, the black paint only remarking the scary and sharp features on his now painted face.

You looked a bit flushed, your makeup and hair perfect. But he wanted to mess it up , ruin it a little. He kept staring at you, not bating an eye. "Like-," you cut yourself off, turning slightly to the side to grab a different pencil before dipping it in more black face paint, "Like you´re undressing me with your eyes or something" you say, too shy to say the words loudly, stepping in between the space of his thighs again, too afraid that somebody else would hear you.

Oh, but Luke heard you just right.

He hums quietly, a smirk pulling at his lips at your embarrassed expression.

You´re standing there, in between his thighs again, and he has to force himself to keep his hands in place. He looked up at you, eyes focused on you as you applied the paint on him. And you were so concetrated on the task in front of you, on his face, you didn´t realise how badly he wanted you.

He was hungry, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from touching you.

"Maybe I am" he responds quietly.

His voice is low, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. His eyes burn into your skin, like he´s daring you to respond, to say something, anything, back. And for the first time, you have nothing to say, no witty response. You just look back into his eyes.

And there is something in them, something that makes your heart beat faster.

He stares back, not moving, not speaking, and the tension is almost palpable. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and you try to ignore the way your body is reacting. Luke has never had this effect on you before.

“Perv" is the only thing you manage to reply, not even a full sentence, not even speaking fully, just whispering into his face as you go back to your task, you only wanted this to be over now.

You can tell by the way his shoulders are tense that he´s struggling not to move. But he doesn´t, and his silence makes your stomach twist and turn. You know he´s enjoying this, and the fact that he knows what he´s doing to you is almost enough to make you snap.

Luke saw the way he made you blush and trip into your own thoughts, and that was enough for him.

You remained awfully silent for the rest of the time, with Luke´s eyes still piercing through your soul until you´re done. "There" you say as you finish touching up the last bits of shadows onto his lips, "All done" you say softly, walking back to the small table to start cleaning brushes again.

Luke stood up, turning around to face you. His face was completely covered in white and black, his skin was unrecognizable.

He walked over to you slowly, and the way he was moving was almost predatory, like he was stalking his prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rest of your sisters and his brothers didn´t seem to notice a thing or even try to look to your direction, too busy invested into their own conversations.

You grab a towel, and you feel it-, oh you feel it. Like when someone´s standing behind you, the cold feeling that drips down your spine, ready to attack. Luke places his hand on each side of the table, his chest so close to be pressing to your back, trapping you against the table; and you couldn´t even see him properly.

"Just a question-," he says, clearing his throat briefly, "How effective is the make-up remover?"

Your breathing hitches for a moment. His voice was ridiculously low and whispery against you. You swallow, and the room suddenly feels too hot.

“Um-" you reply, trying to focus on cleaning the brushes instead of the man standing right behind you. "Very. It´ll clean right away, don´t worry" you reply poorly.

"Oh-. no, I wasn´t asking because of me", he replies, and he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can feel the heat of his breath and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, "I was asking for you. I don´t wanna leave any mark on your face after you´ve worked so hard on yourself"

Well, who would´ve though this guy was a poet? Hiding meanings behind words?

"That´s very considerate of you" you reply, trying not to sound too eager, but the way your voice cracks tells him all he needs to know.

Luke nods once, a smirk on his lips, and you can practically hear it in his voice. He leans down, his lips grazing the skin of your neck and his nose ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"I´ll make sure you find me", he whispers.

And with that, he steps back, his presence gone as fast as it arrived to the scene. Your hands tremble slightly as you finish putting the last brushes away, and your face burns hot. He had suddenly left you wanting, a feeling you didn´t even have when you first started working on him.

But you had to head back to your cabin now, and fuck-, were you mad you couldn´t get what you wanted now.

Luke surely knew he had started some type of game, your pretty little self caught in between his webs… but the night was only starting, and soon enough, you would be the one trapping him.

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nysrage · 1 year ago

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College Daze, Connie Springer.

college days were hard. you hadn’t quite found your footing around campus, not making any friends, and often times too homesick to even get out of bed. being the quiet introvert didn’t help with any functions going on campus either. but nonetheless, it was that college daze. days were especially hard when you were hours away from everything you knew, your town, family, one friend, and boyfriend. all the things that made your heart so full.

the only thing keeping you sane were the phone calls you’d share with them. parents giving you encouraging words to keep you going and motivated. your friend who remind you of the vision you had for yourself when you felt low enough to quit and come home. Connie, who’d stay up with you on those long night where you’d study for upcoming exams, and fill that lonely hole with warmth during those overnight calls. It’d been months since you been face to face with any of them and you couldn’t help the feeling of loneliness clouding your heart.

that was until there’d been a knock at your front door, pulling you not only from your thoughts but also your bed. annoyed that your roommate most likely left her keycard in her room for the umpteenth time since you’ve settled on campus. “ girl you’ve got to learn to—” swinging the door open to be met with your boyfriend, “surprise mamí” flashy smile on display as he engulfed you into his arms. “connie?” you mind barely processing all of this until you were burying your face into his neck. opening up to that safe, warm, and familiar scent that you’d missed for so long, taking in as much of it as you could not knowing how long it’d last. “c’mon lemme see that pretty face.” pushing those soft natural coils out of your face, taking you all in. “how… when did you even find the time..?”

“like i told you princesa..” connie smiled, giving you a small peck in the cheek. “i’d be outside your dorm for you one of these days.” you giggled, quickly wiping away any tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “you know i can’t be away from you too long.” nuzzling your face into that warm hand of his that rested against your cheek. basking in that feeling of home and happiness.

the next few days were spent on some much needed catching up, quality time, and acts of service. showing connie around campus and enjoying a few parties, along with a nice stress free day at the salon. connie paying for all those self care needs that you’d neglected in the past few months, getting you back to that bubbly personality he’d grown to love. those beautiful smiles returning back to your face. the next day was spent in sweetheart circle in the center of campus, full of beautiful land that was perfect for a picnic. which connie made sure to pack all of your favorite fruits, wraps, and drinks into your basket. Along with three small canvases to draw whatever your heart desires.

the gentle breeze, warm sun on your skin, and connie’s arm wrapped around your waist made everything feel so much better. like this journey isn’t as lonely as it seemed, not when the people surrounding you did everything in their power to keep you happy along the way. It’d been the most you smiled since the first week of school and you didn’t think it’d fade anytime soon. the two of you sharing your paintings when you were done, connie’s canvas colored with doodles of you and him beneath the sun. while your gave a more realistic and detailed portrait, one your sure he’d be hanging up somewhere in his room to keep your close to him. A third canvas of your painted hands on either side, and the date that the two of you became official in between.

ending the day with a walk around the trail, a known legend at your university for couples that visit sweetheart circle. “you know legend says, if you walk sweetheart circle the right way three times.. you’ll be married.” connie chuckled, “oh yeah?” playfully biting down on his lip. “right or wrong, you’ll end up as mrs. springer regardless” pulling you close his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “we work too hard at this relationship for us not to work.” his words were sweet and sincere, eyes never leaving yours as he spoke. your body whirling around in front of him to stop his tracks, taking his strong hands in yours. “i’m really glad you surprised me for the weekend baby.” a bright smile of your face as you looked up at the towering form of your boyfriend. his smile just as wide as yours, placing a delicate kiss on your intertwined hands. “I know this big city was a lot for you and you really needed some piece of home..” shrugging his shoulders as he looked out at this distant fountain. “so i thought i’d bring home to you.”

squeezing his hand as his eyes met yours, those golden brown orbs holding so many emotions. “I love you..” his reaction to your words always the same, small curve in his lips along with that brightening of his eyes.

“i love you more princesa.”

#nys works.ᐟ ᥫ᭡#aot fluff #aot connie fluff #aot connie #connie fluff #aot connie springer #aot connie x black reader #aot connie x black!reader #connie springer #connie x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black!reader #connie x black reader #connie x you #connie springer fluff

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holdinbacksecrets · 10 months ago

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shadow, my shadow, my shadow

seungcheol: his name in your phone is cherries. no one gets it. it confuses all your friends. people don’t take the time to dissect what’s right in front of them. instead, they hope the answer will drop, release from its stem all on its own. here it is: he stains your skin; he fills your belly with laughter, with love, and it’s deep, an alluring maroon. the only color you ask for at the nail salon. the only color painted across your lips on a friday night. the only color saturating the sky in your dreams

jeonghan: he’s always just a telephone call away. he’s always just a handful of dialed digits away. he’s always close enough to touch before slipping away. he’s never close enough to believe. he’s a really fucking good dream, but it falters as soon as you wake up. he’s an almost. he’s an if only i had better luck

soonyoung: his embrace is overwhelming. it used to burn your skin. it used to keep you up for a night or two. it used to make you shake and press your hands against his chest, whispering too close, you’re too close to me. so you started to lay out in the sun and welcome the warmth. you started to visit tucked away cafes and drink delicious beverages. you started to welcome the love without argument, and his embrace became divine comfort, soft serenity, warm weather

wonwoo: your ceiling is beautiful. you’ve watched it for hours like a science project or a call to worship. sun rays display themselves so beautifully across it, covering crevices, blanketing stark white in something ethereal. you called in sick to work and haven’t looked at your phone since. you’ll stay just like this until nightfall and an embrace turns you away from the canvas high. he pulls you into him, whispers your name against your skin. you wonder if he says it as a reminder

seokmin: he’s beautiful. his constellated moles create your favorite sky—stars close enough to touch, and you’ve always wanted to touch stars. you drew fishing poles for three years as a kid, imagining a bucket filled with stars knocking your leg on the journey home. it sat beside number one on your christmas list, hoping santa clause would make a dream come true. he let it simmer, kept you waiting for a decade, kept you waiting long enough for the desire to slip, kept you waiting for so long that the real thing surpassed the imaginary

mingyu: he baked cookies for your birthday because you don’t like cake, and there’s something about the texture of frosting you can’t quite get behind—can’t trust the silky smooth. he brought home the milk that comes in a glass bottle. it’s delicious and thick and warms your heart with sweet nostalgia. you open his gifts first because he asked you to, and you find a beautiful goblet that’s the color of summer peaches. he fills it to the rim with glass-bottle milk. he fills his goblet too and presses a candle into the stack of cookies. the wish arrives as soon as you close your eyes

chan: he stands behind you in the kitchen, rests his chin on your shoulder while the sun rises. you’re early risers too. never were before. then this love unraveled in your living room, and you crave more of the day

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen blurbs #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #chan scenarios

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moonlitmistyforest · 6 months ago

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Alfred Stevens - The Bath, 1873 Musée d'Orsay, Paris

Apparently, two version of the paintings existed, one of which was reportedly destroyed in one of Vienna's fires. The painting was executed around 1873-74.

Stevens was trained as a painter in Brussels. He finished his studies in Paris and thereupon established himself there. During the Second Empire he pioneered and perfected the domestic interior scene, which the Impressionists later adopted. He was inspired by Pieter de Hooch and Vermeer, and painted both on wood panel and, as in the case of Le bain, on canvas.

Stevens made his name in Paris as a painter of beautifully dressed ladies. Unlike Franz Xaver Winterhalter, the official portraitist of the French imperial family, Stevens chose his models among the wealthy upper class ladies. These demi-mondaines were maintained by their wealthy lovers, and passed their time reading books, making themselves up or at salons and exhibitions while waiting for their lovers to return. The model depicted in Le bain can also be seen in Stevens' Souvenirs and Regrets.

The painting depicts an apathetic Parisian demi mondaine having a bath. Above the tub there are, fixed to the wall, a swan-shaped tap and a white fixture in the shape of a shell. Instead of holding a bath brush, the model holds two white roses in her right hand, which crosses her body and leans against the tub's side.

The rose may be viewed as a symbol of love and beauty, whereas the tap in the shape of a swan neck might refer to the classical myth of Leda and the swan, adding an erotic subtext to the painting. via

#alfred stevens #19th century #art history #classic art

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theoutcastrogue · 3 months ago

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Venice in the art of Alexandra Exter (1882-1949)

Carnival in Venice (oil on canvas) 1930s

Carnival Procession (oil on canvas)

Masked Figures by the Banks of a Venetian Canal (oil on canvas)

Venetian Masks (oil on panel)

Pulcinella (gouache on paper) late 1920s-30s

Venice (oil and sand on canvas) 1925

Venice, 1915

"Aleksandra Aleksandrovna Ekster, also known as Alexandra Exter, was a Russian and French painter and designer. As a young woman, her studio in Kiev attracted all the city's creative luminaries, and she became a figure of the Paris salons, mixing with Picasso, Braque and others. She is identified with the Russian/Ukrainian avant-garde, as a Cubo-futurist, Constructivist, and influencer of the Art Deco movement. She was the teacher of several School of Paris artists such as Abraham Mintchine, Isaac Frenkel Frenel and the film directors Grigori Kozintsev, Sergei Yutkevich among others." [x]

"Exter painted views of Florence, Genoa and Rome, but ‘most insistent and frequent were images of Venice. The city emerged in various forms: via the outlines of its buildings, in the ‘witchcraft of water’. In glimmering echoes of Renaissance painting, in costumes and masks and its carnivals’.

"Exter’s characteristic use of the bridge as a stage platform, seen most clearly in Carnival in Venice, is a legacy of her time as Tairov’s chief designer [Alexander Tairrov, director of Moscow's Kamerny Theatre]; the director believed in breaking up the flatness of the stage floor which the artist achieved for him by introducing arches, steps and mirrors. Even in her easel work, the emphasis is at all times on theatricality. Bridges are used as proscenium arches, the architecture creates a stage-like space in which to arrange her cast."

"For all her modernity, references to Venetian art of the past abound in these paintings. The masked figures are influenced by the Venetian artist Pietro Longhi, to whom Exter dedicated a series of works around this time. The incredible blues used in both Carnival Procession and Masked Figures by the Banks of a Venetian Canal are a direct reference to Titian, who was famed for his use of ultramarine, the pigment most associated with Venice’s history as the principal trading port with the East." [x]

"Exter had long since abandoned the Cubist syntax by 1925 but her sense of colour remained together with a strong conviction, shared with Léger, that a work of art should elicit a feeling of mathematical order. In its graceful interaction of fragmented planes and oscillation between emerging and receding elements, Venice (1925) echoes the more precise qualities that also appear in Léger's work at this time, both artists occupied with the continuous modulation of surfaces and the 'melody of construction' that Le Corbusier was still advocating in the 1930s. But while Exter subscribed to Léger's theory that 'a painting in its beauty must be equal to a beautiful industrial production', she never fully embraced the aesthetics of the machine and rejecting the common opposition between ancient and modern, her work often retains a classical edge - for example in these trefoil windows, arches and vaults. Human figures, which had been nearly absent from her Cubo-futurist paintings, also return in other works from this period."

"She was undoubtedly aware of the concept of 'defamiliarisation', a term first coined by the influential literary critic Viktor Shklovsky in 1917:

'The purpose of art is to impart the sensation of things as they are perceived and not as they are known. The technique of art is to make objects 'unfamiliar,' to make forms difficult to increase the difficulty and length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself and must be prolonged.'

An instance of this device is discernable in the present tight formation of the oars, seen from above. Like Braque and Picasso, Exter incorporates sand into certain areas of pigment to enhance the differentiation of surfaces, a technique also used to 'increase the length of perception'. The occasional lack of overlap between the boundaries of the textured surfaces and colour planes strengthens the paradoxical combination of tangible presence and elusive abstraction that makes Venice such a powerful work."

"Venetian subjects occur in Exter's work as early as 1915. A gigantic panneau of the city was one of the final works she produced in the Soviet Union and exhibited in the 1924 Venice Biennale." [x]

"The specific theme of the Commedia dell’Arte first appeared in Exter’s work in 1926 when the Danish film director Urban Gad approached her to design the sets and marionettes for a film which was to tell the story of Pulcinella and Colombina, transposing them from the Venice of Carlo Goldoni to contemporary New York. Pulcinella most likely relates to the artist’s subsequent experimentations on the theme of the Commedia dell’Arte. Pulcinella, who came to be known as Punch in England, is one of the classical characters of the Neapolitan puppetry. Typically depicted wearing a pointed hat and a mask, Pulcinella is an opportunist who always sides with the winner in any situation and fears no consequences." [x]

#Alexandra Exter #art #venice #theatre #commedia dell'arte #the city speaks

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captainsophiestark · 2 years ago

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More Than Just A Pretty Face

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join MyTaglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians, part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023 which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Prompt: Hera; The Queen, Women, Family

Summary: Benedict runs into a woman who might just be the love of his life at a friend's underground artist party, but things might get complicated outside the walls of the artist's haven and in plain sight of the rest of the world.

Word Count: 3,745

Category: Fluff, little bit of angst maybe? Not *really*...

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Benedict smiled to himself as he stumbled down the dimly lit hallway, people crowding in on either side of him. He was absolutely sober as far as substances went, but drunk and giddy on the feeling of being surrounded by so many artists, living lives happily as themselves and nothing more. No expectations of families or the Ton could reach them here, and it was a thrill like none other to join them any night he could.

After making a quick pit stop to grab himself a drink (he didn’t want to spend the night completely sober, after all), he continued to wander the hallways, looking for a place to pick up a paintbrush. This was one of the few locations he felt completely free to do so, with no outside pressures to weigh on him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take advantage of it.

He swung through the doorway of a salon towards the back of the house and, as he’d hoped, found a circle of canvases around a few models in the middle. He started for an open canvas, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what one of the other artists had painted on theirs.

The light and colors seemed to jump off the canvas, representing the subjects in a more abstract and yet equally beautiful way. The brushstrokes and blending combined into a unique style, truly unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

“This is… incredible,” he breathed, having drifted unconsciously over to stand beside the artist, getting a better look at the canvas in the process. He blinked a few times, trying to shake the stupor, then turned to face the person responsible for the masterpiece before him.

His breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Cat got your tongue?” asked the woman with a raised eyebrow. She surveyed him critically, not looking entirely friendly, and his heart stuttered a little in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said. Was he stammering? He hadn’t been nervous around a girl since the time when Anthony had been his only sibling!

“What do you want?” she asked, continuing to stare him down mercilessly. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to gather himself as he looked between her and her artwork.

"I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” he said, clearing his throat and gaining just a hair of his regular confidence back. “I just couldn’t stop myself from coming over when I saw this masterpiece.”

She turned to him with a scowl, but it quickly changed to a look of surprise when she found him referencing her painting.

“You came over here because you liked… my painting?” she asked, her tone an equal mix of suspicion and pleasant surprise. Benedict raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Well what else?” he asked, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

The woman glanced down, unable to completely hide a smile that broke onto her face before she looked back at him. “I… historically, when strange men approach me, it’s nothing to do with my skills or who I am as a person.”

Benedict shot her a roguish smile, all of his normal comfort and confidence finally returned. “Fortunately for you I suppose, even the most beautiful woman in all of existence can’t quite outshine this incredible painting.”

She stared at him, her eyes dancing with light and mischief as a smile again tugged at her lips. Despite her best efforts, she was clearly fighting a losing battle to remain stoic and critical.

“The most beautiful woman in all of existence?” she challenged, humor in her tone.

“I’d certainly say so,” he said, beaming at her and feeling a swell of pride at how flustered she seemed to become. “I’d have to go sing the news of who I’d just found to strangers in the streets, but it’s been overshadowed by the news of having found the most wonderful painting in the whole of existence.”

She laughed, and the sound sent jolts of electricity racing through every inch of his body. They shared a smile, and any doubts Benedict might have had about the truthfulness of his statements evaporated. They were facts, and nobody could change his mind.

“Well come on then, you flatterer,” she teased, patting the seat next to her. “If you’re here it means you’re an artist too, so let’s see what you’ve got other than a prolific affinity for flattery.”

He beamed at her as he took the seat next to her, securing a paintbrush and artist’s palette of his own.

“I can’t promise I’ll live up to anything like what you’ve painted, but I’ll certainly do my best.”

She shrugged. “Art is subjective. Anyone who tries to make objective value statements is a fool.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages.

“I suppose you’re right.”

The pair spent the rest of the night and even the first few hours of the morning painting, laughing, and talking together side by side, making art and more importantly enjoying the creative space and their time with each other. Despite his initial moment of being tongue-tied, Benedict couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to this woman, like they’d known each other for ages and not just a few hours. He knew his brothers would mock him, but with each passing second he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love.

When the time came to say goodnight and for each of them to go their separate ways, his heart broke a little in his chest. Still, he said goodbye all the same, both of them promising to meet again the next time one of these gatherings happened. Benedict resolved with his entire being to make it happen, no matter what, and even that was barely enough to actually get him out the door.

For the next week, Benedict found himself completely distracted by thoughts of the mystery woman he’d fallen in love with in a matter of hours. He hardly thought of anything else, and his head was even more in the clouds than usual, much to the annoyance of his siblings. Anthony finally managed to snap him out of his daydreaming long enough to drag him to a long-awaited ball that had been the talk of the Ton for quite some time, although Benedict had done his best to avoid the commitment.

“The Queen herself is going to be there, along with plenty of high-ranking, eligible young women who only come out for the absolute highest society events,” lectured Anthony as the Bridgerton carriage approached Lady Danbury’s house, where the ball was to be hosted. Benedict sighed and stared out the window; he’d already heard this speech a thousand times. “Now that Kate and I are married, it’s your turn to start looking for a wife.”

Benedict rolled his eyes, knowing just how much it would irritate his brother.

“Suppose I want to die a male spinster,” he said, deciding to have some fun bothering Anthony. Anthony, as predicted, glared and sighed heavily through his nose, which immediately lifted Benedict’s spirits. He gave his brother a mischievous grin, and then it was Anthony’s turn to roll his eyes. Benedict’s fun was cut short, however, when the carriage at last arrived to the ball. Now he’d have to suffer through endless pleasantries and vicious Mamas trying to set their daughters up with him for the evening, with no support from his brother.

As predicted, the start of the night was incredibly boring. Benedict grabbed a drink as soon as he was in the door, and spent the next hour or so ducking every social encounter he could. He hovered on the edge of the room with Colin and Eloise, until finally, Anthony tracked him down and dragged him by the elbow back into the main room.

“The Queen just came out with her daughter,” Anthony hissed into his ear as they moved through the crowd. “You need to at least make an introduction.”

“Anthony, I don’t even know where to begin explaining to you how much I do not want to court the Queen’s daughter-”

Benedict had been in the middle of hissing back a terse response to his brother when he caught sight of the woman Anthony kept shoving him towards. Y/N, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and the best artist he’d ever met, stood next to the Queen in an absolutely magnificent dress, chatting politely with a suitor she didn’t appear to have much interest in. His heart stopped dead in his chest and his legs almost gave out under him. Anthony, unaware that Benedict’s world had suddenly stopped spinning, continued to push him over, until Benedict fell forward, almost knocking straight into the woman he’d spent every spare moment and then some thinking about.

She turned to him in surprise, her face lighting up for a brief second at the sight of him before her courtier’s mask quickly dropped back into place. Even that brief crack in the polite, vague interest was enough to make Benedict’s heart stutter in his chest. He just kept staring at her, still a little dumbstruck, until he heard someone clear their throat from his right.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” He turned to find the Queen herself staring down at him with raised eyebrows. He quickly righted himself and tried to regain his composure. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Y/N disguising a laugh as a cough, and had to resist grinning and shaking his head.

“Your Majesty,” he said instead, dropping into as low a bow he could. He stayed down for longer than usual, and when he finally straightened, the Queen looked grudgingly pleased.

“I assume you’re also here to speak to my daughter, now that you’ve paid your respects, like every other unwed man in this room?” she asked, a slight tone of amusement to her voice (much to Benedict’s relief).

“I…” he glaned at Y/N, slightly unsure of himself, but when he found her smiling back at him that confidence immediately returned. He turned back to the Queen, back straight and a smile on his face. “Yes, M’am. I’d love the chance to speak to her, if you’d allow me and if she’d have me.”

The Queen gave him the smallest smile of approval, then turned to her daughter.

“Well, Y/N? What do you say?”

Y/N smiled slightly at Benedict, then sighed dramatically and flapped her fan around before dropping it back at her side.

“I suppose,” she said, flailing dramatically a bit more before taking his arm with a smile. “Mr. Bridgerton, shall we?”

Benedict beamed back at her, his whole body feeling like it was about to combust in the best way possible. They strolled off through the room, walking rather quickly towards the exit to the garden, where they might actually get a bit of privacy. Anthony beamed approvingly at Benedict as they went, and Benedict made sure to shoot him a glare in response.

Every man in the crowd they passed gave Benedict a look to put his pointed scowl towards Anthony to shame, jealous venom rippling off every one of them. Benedict completely ignored them all. He was in heaven, and no one could ruin it if they tried.

Quickly, the fresh air of the garden washed over Benedict, and he took a deep breath in before letting out a contented sigh. He slowed his pace, Y/N slowing to match him as they transitioned into a relaxing stroll.

Once they were far enough away from the ballroom, definitely out of earshot of any nosy, problematic courtiers, Benedict turned to Y/N with an arched eyebrow.

“The Queen’s daughter?” he asked. She turned to him, a slightly accusatory look on her own face.

“Says a Bridgerton son, a member of one of the most prestigious, talked-about families in the Ton.”

“First of all, you and I both know talked-about often does not equal prestigious,” he said. Memories of everything to do with Daphne and Anthony as they went through the creation of their marriages flashed through his head. What nightmares. Entertaining, but nightmares. He shook it off, then continued, “And second, being the second son of a notable family is distinctly different than being in line for the throne, as well as the most sought-after woman in all of England.”

She gave him a small smile, the first he’d seen from her that was tinged with sadness, none of the light or attitude he’d come to enjoy seeing from her to be found.

“Surely you can see why I wanted to escape it all for a bit, then. Most wanted woman for my position and the power I offer a husband, and maybe my looks. Nothing else. Nothing of substance.”

Benedict felt as if an arrow had been shot straight through his heart. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Y/N, who came to a stop a few steps later to stare back at him curiously.

“Have you truly been made to feel this way?” he breathed, his stare never leaving her face. He remembered her mentioning something of the sort when they'd first met, but not with so grave a tone. She hesitated, giving him a scrutinizing look similar to that one a week ago before she'd realized his more innocent and sincere intentions, then finally sighed, apparently deciding to give him her trust for a second time.

“It’s more than being made to feel that way, Benedict,” she said softly. “I can see it and know it in every interaction I have with suitors who approach me.”

“Y/N…” Benedict took a step forward and reached for her hands, his heart squeezing at her words, but then thought better of himself and stepped back. He took a deep breath, then met her eyes, doing his best to convey nothing but absolute sincerity. “I almost didn’t come to this little party tonight, for the same reasons. My brother finally forced me to come, and now I’m very grateful he did, although I’d never tell him that.”

Benedict shook his head, momentarily distracted by the idea of how obnoxiously smug Anthony would be if ever told he was right, then managed to refocus on Y/N and the issue at hand.

“What I’m trying to say is… every time I come to one of these things, especially now that Anthony is married, I have nothing but piranhas and sharks circling me, trying to convince me to marry them or their daughters. I have money, and I’m the next closest thing to the head of the Bridgerton family, and that’s all anyone ever seems to care about.

“I can’t pretend to understand exactly what it’s been like for you, since I have quite a bit more autonomy than you, both as a man and as a second son. But I can imagine what you mean when you say you’re usually looked at for superficial traits and what someone stands to gain from marrying you, and nothing else. And if I’ve ever played a part in making you feel that way, then I am truly, deeply sorry. You deserve far more than that.”

Benedict watched Y/N, his heart absolutely hammering in his chest. He wasn’t even sure what he was hoping for, but her reaction felt incredibly important to him all the same. She glanced down, lips pursed, then met his eyes again with a small smile and that twinkle in her eyes that he’d come to love so much. He could’ve collapsed on the spot from relief and happiness.

“I can happily tell you, Benedict, that you’re the first man I’ve met in a long, long while who doesn’t make me feel that way, and never did. So… thank you, for that.”

He beamed back at her, his heart soaring and making him feel as though he was floating.

“Well, I’m very glad to hear it. Perhaps, if you’re interested… I could do more of that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on her lips as she took a few steps closer to him.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

He grinned, leaning in closer to her. His whole body burned, and he thought he could see a bit of the same excitement on her face.

“Well, as much of an honor as it would be for me to be allowed to court you the traditional way, it can be a bit… boring. As two fantastic and creative artists, we should be able to do a bit better than that, don’t you think?”

Her smile took on a bit of a giddy quality as she continued to look at him, and Benedict felt himself getting sucked into the same energy, riding high as he continued.

“What say you we have another artists’ rendezvous next weekend, at that same mutual friend’s house? We can find an empty room—surely there will be one in the entire house—and then draw, paint, and talk to our heart’s content. You can tell me about your favorite artists and things to do when no one else is forcing you into courtly activities, and I’ll tell you my favorite ways to upset my siblings and about the time my brothers and I almost stole the neighbor’s dog thanks to a game of dares that got wildly out of control.”

“I would like that very much,” she said, beaming back at Benedict. He swore her light put the shine of the sun to shame, and the warmth emanating from her made him completely forget the cold of the night air in the garden where they spoke. “But I have to ask… what shall we do in the meantime? After all, next weekend is an awful while to wait.”

He could’ve done cartwheels right then and there. Instead, however, he controlled himself enough to smile back at her and speak.

“Well… what would you like to do?”

She grinned, then glanced around their surroundings. Once she seemed satisfied that no prying eyes were watching too closely, she grabbed his hand and pulled her to him, linking her arm through his to return to the way they’d been walking before.

“This is going to be quite forward of me,” she warned, smiling all the same as they resumed their turn about the garden. Towards the far end, they turned back before getting improperly out of sight of any other people, making a slow, steady return towards the party they’d so badly needed an escape from.

“I’d expect nothing else from such a bold, strong woman such as yourself.”

“Well… what if, on top of our unusual form of courting that you so brilliantly suggested… we did the normal, proper society courting as well?”

Fireworks exploded in Benedict’s chest, but he did his best to tamp them down and sound somewhat put together when he responded.

“Do you mean regular courting as in… publicly spending time with each other, after I call on you to make clear my intentions to get to know you and, perhaps eventually… propose?”

Now she seemed to be the nervous one, fidgeting a bit as they got closer and closer to returning to the party. Benedict watched her with a smile, enjoying this brief role reversal.

“Well, I mean, that is… if you’d be interested in that. Of course there’s absolutely no pressure, I wouldn’t want to make you feel like you had to-“

Benedict came to a stop again, taking Y/N’s hands and pulling her to a gentle stop with him. They were only a few steps from the doors of the ballroom now, in clear eyesight of many guests of the party as Benedict smiled lovingly at this wonder of a woman he’d somehow lucked into meeting.

“Y/N… I can think of no greater honor than being allowed to court you publicly, perhaps with the intention to propose. Despite the fact that I will hear endlessly about it from my brother, I am quite confident you would be worth it.”

Y/N beamed back at him, joy clearly written all over her face. The two shared the purest, happiest smiles and held each others’ stares for a few more beats, then finally, Y/N cleared her throat and moved to take Benedict’s arm again.

“Of course, any potential proposal would hinge on our non-traditional method of courting going well,” she said as the two of them at last headed back towards the ballroom.

“Obviously,” Benedict agreed, ignoring the jealous looks of the other suitors around him and the smug expression he could see on his brother’s face even from across the room. “I could never shackle myself to someone without knowing she would be more than a pretty face to stand next to me, with whom I’d have nothing in common.”

He shot Y/N a mischievous sideways look and found her beaming back at him. Then, at the sight of Anthony quickly crossing the room, either to speak to him or to try to speak to Y/N (and either way ruining the moment), he spun to speak to Y/N again.

“So, in the name of proper courting… may I have this dance?”

“Of course you may,” she replied, a happy smile still on her face. He took her hands and they spun onto the dance floor together, then once they were chest to chest to begin the routine, she whispered so only he could hear, “And don’t think I didn’t realize you asked me to dance in order to avoid your brother.”

Benedict gave her a quick wink, then twirled her out from him in the opening moves of the dance. They were a bit sloppier than everyone else around them, which earned them both some disapproving looks from their family members, but neither of them cared.

They were both happy and having fun, and after spending so much of their time in court absolutely miserable, they deserved this. Although they couldn’t spend the entire night together, no matter how much they both wanted to, they took the moments they could and found solace in the fact that they’d be together again soon, and in a place where they’d be in private, enjoying each others’ company for hours with no interruptions. It was too early to declare it to anyone, his brother and Y/N included, but Benedict had fallen completely and totally in love, and he couldn’t wait to spend every possible second in his future with the woman he felt certain was his soulmate.

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bonezone44 · 1 year ago

Text

'Get a Grip' (18+)

Watch Model!Joel Miller x Manicurist!Reader

Word Count: 3,8k

Summary: Joel Miller comes to your salon for a manicure, then he invites you to assist him during a photoshoot.

Tags: afab!Reader, hand kink, glove kink, finger sucking, fingering, p-in-v, creampie

a/n: this story came about during a brief discussion of Pedro’s watch modeling era a few weeks ago. Thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @iamasaddie for the inspo!

+++++++

Hands. Fingers.

They’re your job.

Every once in a while someone will walk in with a nice set of digits and you admire them while they’re in front of you. While you push back their cuticles and clean beneath the nail. Add the acrylic and the polish. Then they’re out of your mind again as you wait for the next client to plop into the chair and request a full set or a simple repair.

Your repeat clients usually want the nail art. That’s where you shine, to be honest. Delicately painted swirls. Boxes like Mondrian. Gold leaf. Rhinestones. Each nail a tiny little canvas for you to create something unique.

The male customers are different. The masculine ones, anyway.

They want simple hygienic maintenance. Maybe a massage. Maybe they just wanna flirt with a woman while she provides a service. And you appease them. It’s no bother to you.

It’s your job.

It’s just your job.

It’s the thing you do all the time every day and have done for years.

And yet no matter how many times you try to repeat those words in your head, you find yourself salivating over the man sitting across from you–with his playful baritone Texan voice and the beautiful steel and gold Cartier watch on his wrist. Not that you’re one to dig for gold. You simply admire fine craftsmanship.

Just like you admire the fineness of his hands.

The veins that rise on the top of his right hand, over his fingerbones, look like wandering rivers and you really wanna admire them with the tip of your tongue, tracing along their edges. His fingers themselves are long, thick rectangles that you wanna slip into your mouth one at a time.

In simple …admiration.

“Not too smooth,” he says when you pull out your buffer. “They don’t want me lookin’ too clean.”

“Who’s that?” you ask, keeping your voice nice and even while your cheeks feel hot and your thoughts are a million miles away from ‘appropriate’.

“The… oh, whaddya call ‘em.” He hums. “The brand specialists, I guess.” He chuckles. “They hit me up about a month ago. Got a new line coming out that’s–get this–” he says with a flash of his eyebrows. “--’safari’ inspired.” He scoffs.

“Safari, huh?” You roll your eyes. You can imagine the Cartier boardroom of pompous old Frenchmen glorifying the art and tales created during the French expansion of the 1800s—easily brushing past the eugenics-based mission of the violent nationalists. “Colonizers,” you mumble under your breath.

Joel laughs. “My daughter said the same thing.” He shrugs. “‘S no matter. I don’t mind takin’ their money if all I gotta do is have pretty hands.”

Your face burns immediately and keep your eyes and face focusing on the small nail at the end of his middle finger. “So, how’d you get started anyway?” You swallow thickly, trying to ignore the heat building between your legs. “No offense, I guess, but you don’t seem like the pretty boy-type.” Besides the watch on his wrist, he’s wearing plain Levi’s blue jeans and a black t-shirt that you can almost guarantee came from Target. You can tell his brown and grey curls don’t have any product in them and he’s got about two or three-week-old scruff on his face.

He chuckles again and you glance up, watching the deep creases in his forehead soften. “Daughter’s the one to blame for it.” He shakes his head with a smile. “We were visiting Houston and she wanted to go shopping, so I let her pick the mall.” His brows go high. “This little 12 year-old picked a luxury mall and I didn’t realize it til we got outta the truck.”

Your lips go between your teeth, imagining his embarrassment.

“She was so excited, too. She hopped down out the truck and–fyoo!--took right off runnin.” He grins. “I had to chase her down and tell her not to touch anythin. I woulda had to take out a second mortgage to pay for it if she broke somethin.”

“I bet,” you smile. You finish buffing his nails and pull out the moisturizing oil. You begin to massage each of his fingers, one-by-one, rolling the flesh between your thumb and index finger, marveling at how long it takes you to get from base to tip. You were admiring the mathematics of it.

The proportions.

The number of fingers he might could get inside you.

“Next thing I know, she goes runnin into a Cartier store sayin that they can fix my watch ‘cause they got watches in the window.” He shrugs and rolls his eyes. “I was tryin to politely escort her back out, when some big wig saw me and started talkin to me.” He shrugs again. “They took a couple polaroids and got my info. And now every once in a while, they’ll call me up for somethin.”

You stop massaging and stare at him with your eyes big and wide. “I know women who would literally murder to have that happen to them.”

He chuckles and it gets your body even warmer. “Yeeaahh, that’s what I hear.”

You shake your head in disbelief, returning to your task. You can believe his story, too. You’ve only been staring at his hands for a few minutes and you are enraptured by them. Is it the hands? Or is it him?

Or is it all of it together?

You’re not sure. You’re just enjoying the muscle you feel beneath the surface of his nearly square palm, the thick round meat between the web of his thumb and the end of his wrist. You can’t help but admire the basin in the center where the heart and head line lie parallel. Not that you were a palm reader. But you couldn’t help but know a thing or two about the intuitive art.

Hands. Fingers.

They’re your job, afterall.

“What do you do for work?” you ask, because hands like his were used. Too thick not to be. They couldn’t just sit pretty all day.

“I’m a contractor.”

You blink. You look up at him with your brows high into your forehead. “These are not contractor hands,” you say, stroking along his palm. You don’t see a single cut or abrasion. The few calluses he had could barely be considered calluses at all. More like small rough spots.

“I wear special gloves,” he says with a smirk. “It’s a special kind of leather that fits around ‘em real tight.”

“Oh,” you answer, heat fully overtaking your chest and face. You imagine how nice his fingers must look wrapped in a second skin, smoothing over all his contours and lines, making each appendage even thicker and his hands even broader. You imagine what they would feel like, sliding up your bare calves and pulling you apart at the knees. You imagine the soft, conditioned leather moving back and forth across your clit, driving you mad ‘cause your aching for his skin and his touch and his heat.

“You know, I uhh… got a shoot coming up in a couple weeks. I’d love to see you again.”

Your heart races in your chest.

He smirks, his eyes soft and hazy. “You know, since you’re doin’ such a good job takin care o’ my hands right now.”

“Absolutely,” you try to temper your excitement. “Just give me the date, time, and place.” You shrug in a way that you’re sure is very nonchalant. “I mean, I-I-I can come to you if you need me to.” The Pope himself could have an appointment scheduled, and you would cancel it without regret if this man is implying what you are desperately hoping he is implying.

“Well, alright then.” He grins.

—------------

You’re pressed into the door of the hotel room–the one right next to where Joel just finished his photoshoot. He’s got one arm wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling your face into his. His kisses are heavy and fervent. His tongue licks into you in a way that makes you want it even deeper–makes you wanna swallow him whole and keep him inside you. One of his hands is gloved–in one of the ‘special gloves’ he told you about. It’s a camel-colored leather, hand-stitched and form-fitting. And it is definitely not one he uses for work. They fit tight around the heel of his palm, like driving gloves. Must have gotten a new pair from Cartier themselves.

His gloved hand is under your shirt, sliding up your mid-section and grasping your breast. You gasp and moan into his mouth when he starts pinching and plucking your nipple.

“Open up for me,” he says after pulling away from you.

And when you do, he shoves two fingers between your lips, the rest of his hand resting on your cheek, your head still cradled by his arm.

“Good girl,” he coos with a smirk. “Good girl.” He grinds his hardness into your side.

You’re melting into the door behind you, into him, into your own body. You close your lips and suck, not quite sure what to do or how to turn him on. You curl your lips beneath your teeth and slowly bob your head back and forth.

“No no no. Not like that,” he chides you. “This ain’t no cock in your mouth.” He shakes his head. “They’re my fingers.” His eyes are wide and serious. “And I don’t want you thinkin ‘bout anythin else but that. Alright, darlin?” He’s nodding up and down, waiting for you to mirror him.

You nod back the best you can and adapt. You press the two fingers into the roof of your mouth and suck hard, scraping them along your teeth as you pull your head back. Your lips are wrapped tight around them. You rub your tongue back and forth between them as you engulf them again. You watch him as he watches you through heavy eyelids.

“Good girl,” he says again and licks his lips. His gloved hand moves to your other breast, squeezing it with a rough grip. “Good fuckin girl. Suck those fingers,” he says and you can feel him wiggle them in your mouth.

You go weak in the knees and you’re not sure how you’re able to stay upright. By the grace of god, you’re able to reach up and grab his hand. You pull his fingers out and then take only one finger back inside.

He watches you, curious, twisting your nipple in his hand.

Then you add the second finger back in, sucking it. Wetting it. Drool pooling around the edges of your mouth.

You pull those two out and then you suck three fingers in–not as deep and they’re scraping against your teeth more, but you try to give that third finger some extra attention, tracing along the bottom of it with the tip of your tongue.

“You want it bad, huh?” He looks like he’s scowling, but he’s still grinding against you–hard as ever.

You nod.

“You want my hands all over you, baby?” He applies the smallest amount of pressure to his bare, wet fingers in your mouth, causing you to gag.

Tears tumble out the edges of your eyes as you nod.

He pulls his hands away from you and steps back. “I need you on that bed. Naked. Now."

You rush to do as he says, removing all your clothes in a flurry. You barely register the low hum of the A/C and the cool temperature of the room. You’re too focused on the towering man walking towards you, your legs spreading of their own accord.

His lips are tight and he sucks in a deep breath. "That is one good lookin pussy." He unbuckles his belt and rips it from the loops of his jeans. His eyes roam over your body as he tosses it to the side, the buckle thudding against the carpet. He tugs his t-shirt up his stomach and over his head. "Can't wait to make it mine."

Once his jeans are off and he's just as bare as you (except for the glove on his hand), he waves for you to scoot back before joining you.

Joel settles himself on his side, propped up on his elbow. He makes no move toward his hardened cock. Instead, the hand you were sucking on before finds your face again–cradling it. And this time, his thumb tucks itself between your lips.

You suck on it like a straw.

"How many o’ these you think you can fit in there?" He says. But he’s not referring to your mouth. His gloved hand has found its way between your legs and folds. One lone finger is prodding at your wet entrance. He squints and looks down as he pulls it back out–only having gone in an inch or two. The tip of his glove glistens in the warm glow of the room's lamps. He looks back at you with a grin, sliding his finger in deeper. "Wonder if I can fit em all." He bites his lip as he stares at yours, plunging his finger in and out. "Fuck you with my whole hand."

You close your eyes and moan.

"Yeah? That sound good to you?" He adds a second finger, pushing both into you slowly.

You open your eyes and nod eagerly–humming in agreement. His thumb tugs at your cheek from inside your mouth.

Joel chuckles. "Nah, not this time." He licks his lips. His eyelids are heavy. “My cock’s too hungry for it.”

You pull his thumb out of your mouth. You lick his palm, tracing the deep creases with your tongue. "Whatever you want."

He curses under his breath.

His two gloved fingers curl and stroke your inner walls and while the sensation is high-pitched and pleasing, you're more focused on properly worshiping his bare hand.

Your tongue leaves his palm and you turn his hand over so you can suck the knuckles. Fulfilling one of the many fantasies you've had about Joel since first meeting him. You swirl your tongue around the hill of bone beneath the skin before lowering your mouth and suckling.

Joel groans. "You love it that much, huh?" He curls his fingers, scraping against your inner clitoris muscle. "Love sucking on me?"

"Yeah," you whimper as your hips jump.

"Fuck, that’s what I like to hear." Joel removes the two gloved fingers from inside you. He glides them up and around your folds, spreading your slick and teasing your clit.

It feels …different–how the hard and thin seams of the glove create an added sensation. A starker tease alongside the languid movement of his hand.

You look down in time to see Joel adding a third finger inside you, the pressure growing too slowly for your taste. But again, you have another task to attend to.

You suck Joel's pinky in your mouth and bob your head a few times before releasing it. You suck it right back in with his ring finger alongside it.

He grunts and moans, his three fingers jerking inside you. Your pussy is wet and squelching. His lips go tight as he watches his glove shine more and more with your slick.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and holds your head in place as he kisses you, biting and tugging on your lips. His tongue pushing in so deep, it feels like he's trying to drink you.

"Fuck, that wet pussy sounds fuckin good. You gonna let me put my cock in there?" He speaks into your mouth.

Your stomach swoops and your body is on fire. "Yes, please, Joel," you moan. "Please fill me up with your cock."

He pulls his gloved fingers out of you. His eyes are big and wide. "You think you deserve it?"

"What?!" After everything? After all the sucking and fawning and–how? How could he deny you? You panic.

"Please, Joel," you whine. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him up and down his neck. "I sucked your fingers so good. I sucked you so good." You're desperate. "I'm so wet for you." You kiss him down his chest. "Never been this wet." You grab his cock, aiming to put it in your mouth. "Please-please-please!"

His gloved hand, covered in slick, wraps around your chin and jawbone, stopping you. "That's not the wet hole I want," he says and pushes you back, flat on the mattress. He quickly settles between your legs. There's no need for him to spit on his cock or glide it through your folds–your leaking arousal on the sheets. He uses his bare hand to guide it to your entrance.

He groans and curses as he pushes in.

"Thank you thank you thank you, Joel," you whisper and whimper as he sparks all your aching nerve endings.

His forearms are on either side of you–his broad shoulders and body cage you in. “Fuck, this pussy is heaven, baby.”

The slow moving roll of his hips is the opposite of your panicked desperation, but it feels delicious. Turning all the glowing embers into full-blown fire. “So good, so good,” you mumble.

“Yeah? You like that cock, baby?” he asks with a smirk.

“Cock’s so good, Joel.”

He thrusts harder, his speed only slightly increased. Each heavy, steady flick of his hips sends a shock wave of pleasure through you. His bare thumb finds its way back into your mouth. “Suck on this ‘til you cum, baby.”

You nod. You can’t imagine what you look like. The lower half of your face feels wet with your spit. Your eyes are barely open, but you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man above you. His furrowed brows. His tight lips. His flared nostrils as he pounds into you faster and faster.

“Good girl,” he says as he tucks his head down and presses his cheek into yours. “Good girl, suckin me so good.” His arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls your body closer. “Knew you’d take good care o’ me. Knew this pussy’d be so wet.”

The heat inside you is building faster than you expected. You’re meeting his thrusts with your own–your thighs slapping into his hips.

“Love suckin my fingers, don’t you, baby? Don’t you?” His lips find yours again and he kisses you with his thumb still in your mouth.

His hips slow down and a desperate groan escapes your lungs, punched out by your diaphragm. You plead, but your words are intelligible.

He pulls his thumb from between your lips. “Whatchu need, baby?” He's rolling into you again, languid and rhythmic.

“Make me come, Joel. Please make me come.”

“You need to come, baby?”

“Please, please,” you whine.

“Alright, alright.” He leans back, his bare thumb back in your mouth and his gloved fingers on your clit. He doesn’t thrust any faster and it drives you crazy.

You try to shift his pace, fuck yourself on him til he gets the point–but instead he stops thrusting altogether.

“You got this, baby, come on,” he says with a smirk, making you do all the work. “Come on.”

Well, except for his hand rubbing circles on your clit. You writhe and squirm on his cock, chasing chasing chasing that fiery, burning heat. It’s there. It’s so close.

“Good girl, good li’l thumb-sucker,” he says and something twists inside your gut so hard you immediately come with a loud whimper. Body pulsing and pussy contracting around him. He grunts and curls his hips–as if he didn’t have a choice but to push himself deeper into your orgasm. He pulls his thumb from your mouth and strokes your chin with it. “Good fuckin girl, comin all over me.”

He falls back on top of you and wraps you up in his arms.

Your vision is blurry and you’re trying to catch your breath when he starts thrusting again–hard and fast.

“Knew you’d be good for me. Knew you’d be so fuckin wet.”

Your body jerks and trembles from the stimulation, and you’re too blissed out to do anything but take it.

“Knew you’d love suckin me.” He speaks through panting breaths. “Knew this pussy’d be so fuckin good.” He pushes himself up onto his hands. “You wanna come one more time, baby?” he asks.

You’re not sure, but you think the noise that comes out of you is one of agreement. You nod your head, whole body bouncing from his thrusts.

“‘M gonna fill you up,” he grunts with his brows pulled tight. “Come with me while I fill you up.”

You want to, you really want to come one more time. And he’s pounding into you so hard, your bodies are slapping again. And his eyes and his voice and the determination on his face.

“Come with me, baby, come on,” he chokes out. Then he groans, heavy and low, and you can feel it–you can feel his milky release spurting out and filling you up. He stays above you, trying to catch his breath. “Didja come again?”

You smile. “No, but that’s okay,” you say. God, he’s beautiful. The way his eyes crinkle at the edges and how his beard frames his face.

“Like hell it is,” he murmurs and pulls out of you. He falls to your side again and two gloved fingers dip inside of you, his come spilling out. “You want my thumb again, baby?”

You nod and he gives it to you. You suck on it, pressing the pad of skin against your teeth. He pulls his fingers out and spreads his seed around your clit in circles, making a big mess of your folds.

You’re still dizzy and still over-stimulated, but his eyes are so big and sweet.

“I’ll stay here as long as it takes,” he says as he alternates between thrusting his fingers inside you and rubbing your clit. His brand-new gloves likely ruined.

You grab his wrist when you feel yourself getting close. When the heat hotter than fire starts to build inside of you again. You pant through your nose, your mouth glued to his thumb.

“Took such good care o’ me, baby.” He leans over you and presses his cheek to yours. His voice echoing through you. “Lemme take care o’ you. Lemme make you come, beautiful. Lemme make you come. Wantchu comin on my fingers every day with this pretty li’l pussy. So good for lettin me fill you up. You sucked me so good. Lemme take care o’ you, baby. Lemme make you come.”

It’s less powerful than your first, but the pulse of pleasure your orgasm sends through you is strong and satisfying. You moan and tug Joel’s hand away now that you're starkly overstimulated. “Oh my god,” you sigh, barely able to open your eyes.

Joel chuckles as his hand slides up your body. “Knew you’d be good for me.”

++++++

a/n: It’s been so long since I’ve written just-smut that I really don’t know how to end it. ‘And then they showered and took a nap!’ lol!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #my writing

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amnakhansalon · 6 months ago

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#Beauty #Makeup #fashion #cosmetics #Best Makeup Salon in Lahore #Canvas Salon & Studio

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7pleiades7 · 11 months ago

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Madame X Madame Pierre Gautreau [Virginie Amélie Avegnol), 1883-84

Oil on canvas

The Louisiana-born wife of a French banker, Amélie Gautreau was admired in Parisian social circles for her arresting appearance, which she enhanced with striking gowns and a rigorous cosmetic regimen. The designer of this splendid satin and velvet dress has not been firmly established, although Mme Gautreau often patronized Maison Félix. One of the most prestigious Parisian rivals to Worth, Félix was admired for slim-fitting gowns and favored by celebrities like Sarah Bernhardt. But what worked for an actress brought Amélie Gautreau's downfall.

Sargent convinced her to pose for a portrait, saying he would make it be "an homage to her beauty." She had been compared to a classical statue, and together, Sargent and his sitter confected a portrait that showed off her figure in a pose reminiscent of ancient sculpture. She called it a masterpiece. But when it was displayed at the Paris Salon in 1884, in its original state with one diamond strap falling from her shoulder, the painting was ridiculed, described as indecent and a sensational, vulgar attempt to garner attention.

A fashion faux pas became a potent symbol of upstart Americans who threatened to topple long-standing national hierarchies of fashion, society, and identity.

#my photo #mine #john singer sargent #museum of fine arts #boston #fashioned by sargent

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corruptedcaps · 2 years ago

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Nailing it!

This is an unofficial, spiritual follow up / tribute to @misseviehyde and @amiee-bee’s wonderful 5 part ‘magic nails’ series. Hope everyone (especially Evie and Amiee) like it!

Heidi stood in the school parking lot, alone after the bell had rang, watching the rest of the students file in. It was hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, her best friend Lara had been standing right next to her, giggling and gossiping about the other girls in their class. But now, Lara was gone. She had been sent to boarding school, leaving Heidi all alone in their small town high school.

Heidi had been a geeky freshman before she met Lara who brought out the mean girl in her. Quite literally. The two had become fast friends due to their love of math and reading and hung out all the time but it was Lara who suggested they go to the salon and get their nails done. Heidi had been apprehensive at first, hating the superficial nature of a salon, but Aimee the owner put her at ease with her almost trance like soothing words.

Unbeknownst to both girls, the salon specialized in magic nails and once Aimee had put on the first nail it had sealed Heidi’s fate of becoming a mean girl. Lara had watched in horror as her best friend transformed before her eyes into a beautiful but heartless bitch.

However after Heidi was done, it was Lara’s turn and Heidi made sure she got it done. Heidi watched with delight as Lara transformed into her bitchy besty. After that day they were unstoppable.

Heidi became the queen bitch of their school, and Lara was her loyal number two. Together, they controlled the school, teasing and tormenting anyone who dared to cross them.

But now, as she sat alone in her empty classroom, Heidi couldn't help but wonder who she was without Lara. She just wasn’t having as much fun bullying or teasing.

“Oh honey that’s because you need a beta.” Aimee said to her one day when Heidi spilled her guts to her over a new manicure session.

“You are meant to rule like a true blue bitch. But you need a beta bitch to laugh at your jokes, compliment you, gossip with. It’s what gives you power. Can’t you bring me a girl to make into a new bitchy bestie for you?” Aimee said but she knew the answer.

“No, you know I can’t even afford these. If I hadn’t got Lara to pay for these in advance I wouldn’t even have these maintenance sessions and I’d be back to being dorky and lame.” Heidi said with a shudder.

“Well you’ll just have to find someone bitchy enough then but good luck finding anyone who can match that creation of mine.” Aimee said thinking back on Lara. She had been a fun corruption to do and a profitable one as well. Lara’s dad was filthy rich and once Lara became a superficial mean bitch she embraced the stereotype of spoilt rich daddy’s girl.

Aimee finished up and said goodbye to Heidi who felt refreshed from her nail top up but also still unsure what her next moves should be. That’s when Evie, the salon receptionist pulled her aside secretly.

“I couldn’t help but over hear your dilemma and I think I can help. I’ve been working on a new set of nails and I need someone to test them on.” Evie said in a hushed tone that made Heidi slightly uneasy.

“Well you must have heard that I can’t afford anything new and besides I don’t like the idea about being your science project.” Heidi said coldly.

“Not for you silly, for your potential new bestie. You bring me a girl and I’ll make you a new BFF. For free. No cost and no risk to you. What do you say?” Evie said.

Heidi’s eyes narrowed as she thought it over. It did sound like it was all upsides so what did she have to lose? Heidi nodded and accepted the plan.

“Then it’s a deal. Find me a blank canvas and I’ll give you a masterpiece. Oh and don’t tell Aimee, it’ll be our little secret.” Evie said with a wink.

As soon as Heidi was in school the next day she got to work on finding a new girl to become her number two, but she quickly realized that most of the other girls were lacking. The problem was that most had already been through years of bullying from herself and Lara. None of them would believe that she wanted to be friends with them now. She could never convince them to come to the nail salon with her, they’d all believe it was a trap. She could force one of them but it was too risky.

That’s when Heidi's gaze settled on Mia, the bookish plain girl in her class who was practically invisible to everyone else. Mia was the perfect candidate, a blank canvas just waiting to be painted. She was smart, but shy and timid, with no real friends to speak of. Best of all, she had just moved there from another school and had no history with Heidi or Lara.

Despite this it wasn't easy at first. Mia was wary of Heidi's advances, and it took some time for Heidi to win her over. Heidi was patient, taking things slow and building a genuine connection with Mia. She listened to Mia's problems and offered advice, and before long, Mia began to open up and trust Heidi. It was the perfect opportunity for Heidi to make her move.

"Come on, Mia, it'll be fun," Heidi said, grinning at her friend. "We'll go to the city and get our nails done and have a girls' day out. What do you say?"

Mia hesitated, fidgeting with the edges of her book. "I don't know, Heidi. I don't really like long nails. They make me feel uncomfortable."

Heidi rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You're always cooped up in the library, studying. You deserve a little bit of pampering. And besides, the salon I'm talking about is different. They have these special nails. Trust me, you'll love them."

Mia's eyes widened as she looked at her phone. "How come this place doesn’t have any reviews? It also says it’s closed when you want to go. It all sounds a little sketchy."

"It's not sketchy at all," Heidi insisted. "I go all the time and they're amazing. They helped give me the confidence and assertiveness I needed to stand up for myself. You deserve that too, Mia. You deserve to feel powerful and in control. I asked them to open early just for us."

Mia looked uncertain, but Heidi could see the temptation in her eyes. She knew she had Mia hooked.

"Please, Mia," Heidi begged, giving her friend an imploring look. "Just give it a try. I promise you won't regret it. Plus you’re always saying how much your biting your nails, this way it won’t be your actual nails."

Mia instinctively went to bite her nails out of nervousness and realized Heidi was right. She sighed and nodded. "Okay, fine. But if anything weird happens, I'm blaming you."

Heidi grinned triumphantly. "You won't regret it, I promise. Now come on, let's go get beautiful!"

Heidi and Mia arrived at the salon, a sense of excitement and nervousness in the air.

"Okay, so what do we do?" Mia asked, looking around nervously.

"First, we pick out the colors and styles we want," Heidi said, leading the way to the display of nail polish. "Then we sit down in the chairs and let the professionals take care of the rest."

Mia nodded, still looking uncertain. "And these nails, they're not going to hurt or anything, right?"

"Of course not," Heidi reassured her. "They're completely safe. And trust me, the benefits are worth it."

As they sat down in the chairs, Heidi secretly winked at Evie who was sitting at the station with Mia. Evie smiled back at her and replaced the nails Mia had chosen with a new set she had hidden away.

“Hey what about the set I picked out?” Mia said sounding concerned.

“I need to apply these first, these are what we consider a ‘foundation’ set. Once these have been placed on we can then add your selection.” Evie said with a smile that unnerved Mia slightly.

Mia looked over at Heidi, her hand already at her mouth biting her nails and a worried expression on her face. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Heidi smiled and squeezed Mia's hand. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. Just trust me."

As Evie began to work on their nails, Heidi watched with a sense of satisfaction. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for. Soon, Mia would be a mean girl, and together, they would rule the school.

However as the magic nails were applied to Mia's fingers she was disappointed to see no change in Mia’s physical appearance. When Heidi had first put them on her hair grew thick and long, her breasts big and round and her skin smooth and tan. Mia looked the same with nearly all the nails on. Evie sensing Heidi’s disappointment launched into conversation with Mia.

“Ok Mia, we’re almost done with these, do you still want me to put on your choice of nails after this?” Aimee asked and Heidi watched with interest.

“Hmmm? Sorry I was a million miles away. The other nails? Ugh no I don’t know what I was thinking, these are perfect. I want to keep these.” Mia said in a slightly bratty voice putting Heidi’s worries slightly to rest.

“You just need to be patient with this new formula. It’s designed to release her ‘bitchification’ more gradual that yours or Lara’s did but should be more potent in the end. The slow release should also help her accept the change easier, if she figures out what’s happening too soon her body may reject them.” Evie said to Heidi alone as Mia waited outside after her nails were completed.

Mia couldn’t stop looking at her nails, admiring how they looked, they almost looked foreign on top of her tomboyish body and dress sense.

“Nails like these should have some tight outfits to match, just imagine how good they would look against a sleek and shiny dress wrapped around your curves.” A voice whispered in her mind making her nod in agreement. A change was in order.

“Come on Heidi, I want to go shopping!” Mia shouted from outside in a commanding tone that made Heidi reflectively yell “coming!” back to her.

Heidi watched Mia with curiosity for the rest of the day. Mia seemed more assured of herself as she strolled around the mall and dipped into store after store. She also appeared to have a new fashion sense. She picked out quite the mean girl attire that was certainly an improvement on her baggy hoodies and sweatpants.

“This was great today Heidi, thanks for convincing me to get these hawt nails.” Mia said as Heidi dropped her off at her house after their day of shopping.

“No problem Babe, I knew you’d love them. It’s going to be so good showing you off tomorrow at school. See you then.” Heidi said driving off. Mia felt a surge of excitement for tomorrow. She had always been one to fade into the background at school but now was looking forward to the limelight. In fact it was making her kind of horny. By the time she was up in her room the wicked voice had returned and was whispering in her head once more.

“Wouldn’t it feel so hawt to finger yourself with your new claws? It would be even hotter if you watched yourself do it in the mirror.”

She shoved her hand into her jeans and went straight for her aching pussy. She moaned as she felt the delight of stroking her clit with her new long nails on her. She stared at her reflection, watching herself finger her pussy.

“You’re going to look so fucking good tomorrow, all eyes will be on you.” The voice said making a soft moan escape Mia’s lips as she began picturing the scene of her strolling beside Heidi taking in everyone’s looks.

“Yesss everyone won’t be able to take their eyes off me.” She moaned as she imagined the scene.

As she massaged inside her pussy over and over again the formula of the nails started to react with her wetness, stripping off the coating ever so slightly. She groaned as her body began to react to the direct absorption of the formula.

Her breasts seemed to grow fuller and more pronounced, and her lips became plumper and more sensual. Even her hair seemed to change, lightening to a dyed blonde and took on more body and shine. Mia gasped as she watched her body change before her eyes but far from being afraid of what it meant, she hungered for more.

"Yesss! Don't stop! Keep going!" Mia exclaimed, her eyes glowing with a manic energy as the previous fantasy in her mind changed. She wasn’t strolling beside Heidi, instead Heidi was flanking her like a loyal 2nd. It felt more natural that way in her mind.

“Yesss you’re not a follower, your a leader. You don’t share the spotlight, you own the spotlight!” The voice hissed.

As the transformation continued, Mia's personality began to shift as well. She felt more vain and cold, her once soft and gentle demeanor hardening into something sharp and narcissistic.

"Oh my god, I can't believe how good this feels. I’m so fucking hot," Mia said, her voice dripping with vanity as she climaxed. "I feel so bitchy and bad, I can’t wait to show off myself tomorrow!"

“Why wait? Your hot and horny now! The world deserves to see you. No it NEEDS to see you.” the voice purred in her head and a playful smirk played across Mia’s new pouty lips as she was compelled to agree. She had to get as many eyes on her as possible. She wanted to dance and drink and have a man’s hands all over her body.

As the light caught her nails she knew they were somehow involved with her transformation. It made sense why Heidi was so adamant that they got their nails done and why it was so secretive. What was Heidi’s endgame? Was it something to be worried about? If so why did it feel so good? Questions piled on questions making Mia suddenly anxious and she instinctively went to bite her nails.

However as soon as they touched her lips and she tasted their coating she felt an immediate calm come over her body. A pleasure rippled across her body. Her posture changed making her stand up straight and push out her new bigger tits confidently.

“Why should I be worried? Look at how hot I am now. So what if I’m feeling meaner, more vain, more superior. Heidi clearly wants me to be like this, maybe everyone else will too.” Mia thought to herself while getting lost in her reflection.

Picking up her phone she called Heidi who answered promptly. “Hey babe what’s up?” Heidi asked with slight concern in her voice. She was in uncharted territories with these nails and so wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Let’s hit the club tonight babe, we’re too hawt to be wasted alone indoors.” Mia said as she looked at her nails with glee.

“Really? Tonight? Are you sure your, eh, ready?” Heidi said trying not to sound lame but also worried this was happening too fast and her body would reject the nails. Didn’t Evie say it would take weeks?

“Ugh fine I’ll go by myself if your going to be so boring.” Mia said snapping at Heidi.

“No! No I’ll come, I just didn’t know if you’d be tired after the day we had.” Heidi said trying not to get on her bad side.

“Cool pick me up in 30 minutes, and dress slutty.” Mia said and hung up the phone without saying goodbye. Mia didn’t need 30 minutes to get ready but bossing Heidi around started to stir up her engine again and she needed another go around with herself. She also had a theory to test out about her nails…

Heidi arrived early at Mia’s house and texted her to say she was there. Mia texted her back to tell her to come in and have a pre drink as Mia’s parents were out of town. However as she knocked on the door, Heidi was met by a girl she barely recognized.

“Hey slut, about time you showed up, get a drink into you and let’s hit the club, I’m really feeling myself tonight.” Mia said as she primped herself in the mirror.

Heidi looked at Mia dumbfounded. She was staring at a blonde bombshell, one that looked like Mia’s hotter older sister rather than Mia herself. Her posture was no longer slumped and diminutive but instead she held herself with bitchy confidence. Mia seeing Heidi’s look on her face rolled her eyes.

“You can drop the act now dummy, I know my transformation was all your doing, or rather due to these beauties.” Mia said lovingly showing off her nails which too looked like they had changed too.

“You’re not mad?” Heidi said preparing for the worst.

“Mad? I’m ecstatic! Look at the beautiful bitch I am now! I feel so mean and hawt, I love it! I can’t wait to get out there and show the world what I can do now that I’m not some loser dork anymore.” Mia purred with a glint of mania in her eyes.

Heidi beamed at her. She was certainly more sexy and confident than Lara ever was. Maybe she was ready for the world to see her.

At the club Mia was a sight to behold. She strutted into it like she owned the place. She basked in the lingering looks from all the men and women in the club. Pulling Heidi onto the dance floor she played coy with everyone, only focusing on Heidi.

Heidi for her part was captivated by Mia. It was amazing to see what a transformation she had undergone in such a short amount of time. Heidi knew the nails were amazing but something about this transformation felt different. Mia had a different energy. Heidi also knew that a new force had arrived and couldn’t wait until tomorrow for when they would have the real fun at school.

Mia spotted a group of staring men sitting nearby and broke off from Heidi to go talk to them. Well that’s what Heidi thought until Mia started to rub up against one of them. It was like watching a private lap dance at a strip club. The man was clearly enjoying it and tried to talk but with a wink to Heidi, Mia put a finger up to his lips and cheekily slipped it into his mouth. For a second Heidi could have sworn that she saw the man twitch for a moment before eagerly sucking her finger which turned into kisses down her arm and onto her neck.

Heidi watched as Mia straddled the man and kissed him deeply while the other guys watched and hooted. Mia broke off from the kiss to whisper something into the man’s ear, all the while having an evil grin on her perfect lips. The man nodded and gently slid Mia into the seat beside him before standing up and suddenly jumping on top of his friends, pummelling any of them within arms reach.

Heidi and everyone else watched in shock at the explosive scene. Everyone that was except Mia who was watching the fight with joy playing across her face. Mia watched it unfold getting steadily hornier and hornier, stroking her tits with her nails. Grabbing a nearby guy she kissed him deeply while digging her nails into his neck. He recoiled just for a moment before being dragged willingly out of the club by Mia. Heidi tried to follow them out but by the time she got outside they were gone.

Heidi went home soon after that, mainly because the ruckus in the club made it hard to get back in. She texted Mia to see if she was ok but didn’t get a reply until the morning.

“Where the fuck are you?” The message from Mia read Heidi was about to leave for school when the message came in. Heidi panicking called Mia.

“Mia are you ok? Where are you?” Heidi asked worried.

“Where am I? Where the fuck are you? You’re suppose to be picking me up this morning.” Mia snapped back at her.

“Oh sorry I just thought because you left with some guy last night that-” Heidi began before Mia cut her off.

“Your not suppose to think! That’s my job. You’re just suppose to do! Understand? Whatever. Just get over here in 5 minutes or find a new friend to hang out with.” Mia said, her voice oozing with contempt and hanging up.

Heidi felt kind of pissed at Mia but still sped over as fast as she could and waited for Mia who, despite demanding Heidi get over quickly, took 20 minutes before emerging from her house. Heidi couldn’t believe it but she looked different again. She looked blonder, meaner, and hotter.

“About time. Is that what you’re wearing to school?” Mia said getting into the car and looking at Heidi with mild disgust.

“Yeah? Is something wrong with it?” Heidi asked slightly nervous.

“Just don’t stand so close to me when we are in school.” Mia said touching up her makeup in the passenger mirror.

“Cute earrings though. Give them to me.” Mia said with a hand outstretched.

“W-what?” Heidi asked confused.

“Did I stutter? Give me your earrings. They’ll look better on me.” Mia said glaring at Heidi who felt her face flush. She awkwardly took off her earrings as she drove and gave them to Mia who put them on.

“They look great on you babe.” Heidi said trying to break the tension. She didn’t understand why Mia was acting so cruel to her. Lara never did this and yet Heidi was desperate for Mia’s approval for some reason.

“No duh. I feel great today too. After my night last night how could I not.” Mia said with a smirk to herself remembering the fun she had last night. She had figured out that her nails didn’t just effect her but had the ability to effect (or more accurately infect) others. Every time she used them she felt more cruel and evil as a result which only turned her on more.

At school everyone made whispers about who this new girl was, showing just how invisible Mia once was. Mia strutted down the crowded hallway of the high school, her designer heels clicking against the linoleum floor. She scanned the sea of students, searching for a target.

Finally, her gaze landed on a group of girls huddled around their locker. Mia smirked and approached them, Heidi following close behind.

"Hey losers," Mia sneered, leaning against the locker next to them. "What are you even wearing? Did you raid a thrift store or something?"

The girls looked down at their outfits, shame and embarrassment written all over their faces. Mia cackled with laughter as she sauntered away, leaving the girls feeling small and belittled.

Mia reveled in the power she held over her classmates now, enjoying the feeling of superiority it gave her. She didn't care who she hurt or what she said, as long as she was getting attention and causing chaos.

Heidi loved watching Mia at work but was starting to feel more and more on the receiving end of her wrath. She was feeling left out of the fun Heidi was having. Mia bossed Heidi around like she was some lackey but worse still was Heidi followed her commands obediently. Heidi didn’t want to get on the bad side of the girl who was clearly running the show now. That was until Mia started to make new friends.

It started small with a girl called Daphne, a shy, unassuming girl who Mia took an interest in one day. Heidi watched as Mia belittled Daphne like she had done to a dozen other girls that week but when Daphne failed to scurry away like the rest Mia smirked at Daphne and told her to come with her to the bathroom. Heidi naturally followed but Mia told her to wait outside.

They were in the bathroom for 10 minutes before re-emerging and when they did Daphne looked different. Mia had clearly shared her makeup and clothes with her but Daphne also had a mean glint in her eye that Heidi recognized from Mia. Daphne whispered something in Mia’s ear upon seeing Heidi waiting for them and Mia laughed deeply. The two girls walked off with locked arms like Heidi and Lara used to do.

And so it went for the next week where Mia would start collecting what she called ‘discarded girls’ and would bring them into the bathroom where they would emerge minutes later bitchier and hotter than when they went in. Mia now had a clique of sycophants praising her endlessly and laughing at her jokes. Mia roamed the halls with them flanking her at all times. Heidi was now bringing up the rear, sidelined in the school she once ran, constantly being belittled by the new queen she helped create. When one day Mia gave her a particular dressing down in front of her clique in the locker room, Heidi finally snapped.

“Who they hell do you think you are talking to bitch? Know your place!” Heidi said full of rage. Mia simply giggled at her, seemingly unfazed by her outburst.

“My place? I’m the queen of this god damn school and you’re barely even a blip anymore.” Mia said with a laugh that caused her gang of girls to follow suit.

“We’ll enjoy it while it lasts because those nails have a shelf life and you’ll be hitting your expiration date soon enough. I’ve seen your house and know you can’t afford another session, you can’t even afford a car to get you to school every day.” Heidi said with venom behind every syllable. For the first time in awhile Heidi saw the smirk be wiped from Mia’s face. Rather than feeling triumphant though, Heidi felt her blood run cold as Mia stared at her intensely.

Mia snapped her fingers and her clique rushed Heidi pinning her down on the locker room floor. Mia click clacked slowly over to her, savouring the moment.

“I’ve seen how you live too and it begs the question how do you afford to stay as powerful as you do but you’re going to tell me all of your secrets.” Mia said bending down close to Heidi.

“Like hell I am.” Heidi said still defiant but feeling like she had lost.

“Oh dear you don’t really have a choice.” Mia said with a wink as she ran her hand up Heidi’s thigh, across her stomach and up to her neck where she dug her nails in suddenly. Heidi wanted to scream out but found herself unable to do so. She heard Mia’s voice in her head telling her to do things she would never do but was feeling strangely compelled to do so.

LATER

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aimee said on the other end of the phone not really believing what she was hearing.

“Oh yes Aimee. I’m moving away and it’s only right that someone gets my lifetime of nails. I can’t think of anyone more suited than Mia. You’ll love her.” Heidi said as Mia watched on approvingly. Heidi loved that Mia was making her give up her power. Heidi knew now that she didn’t deserve them. Not like Mia who did. She deserved everything.

“Ok if you insist. I look forward to meeting her.” Aimee said scratching Heidi out of her client book and replacing her with Mia.

“Just one other thing. She has requested that Evie do her nails. Is that ok?” Heidi asked.

“Well Evie doesn’t do nails anymore after an… incident we had but if your friend really wants her I guess we can make an exception this one time.” Aimee said while looking over at a bored Evie working reception. Maybe it was time to bring her back into the fold.

“Great. Thanks for everything Aimee!” Heidi said before hanging up.

“Was that to your liking Mistress?” Heidi asked eager to please Mia now. Mia for her part looked satisfied if a little diminished. Turning Heidi against herself proved to be very draining for Mia and she would need a nail session very soon. But she knew she still had a little time and figured the best way to spend it would be watching Heidi willingly remove her own magic nails.

A WEEK LATER

“These are gorgeous, I feel refreshed. Thanks Evie.” Mia said as Evie finished putting on a fresh set of nails for her. They looked even stronger and bitchier than before, Mia couldn’t wait to try them out.

“Don’t get into too much trouble now.” Evie said with a smirk to Mia who returned the smile.

“You ready girls?” Mia said to her friends who had just finished getting their nails done too. Of course Mia’s set was unique to her but she made sure her girls got some cheaper beta nails to save her having to infect them every time her power was warring off.

“What about her over there, she hasn’t had her turn yet.” Evie said pointing to the corner when a somewhat homely girl stood holding everyone’s bags.

“Who? Hedy? No she won’t be getting any. She won’t until she’s learned her lesson isn’t that right Hedy?” Mia called out to the girl once known as Heidi.

“That’s right mistress.” Hedy replied cheerily. One by one Aimee watch the transformed girls take their bags from Hedy and leave the store. Of course she was happy for the business but something wasn’t sitting right with her about Mia and her friends and something was so familiar about Hedy.

Mia left the salon her head held high and her chest sticking out as her friends waited for her orders. She loved being the queen and no one was taking that away from her now. How could they when she was nailing it?

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #corrupted nails #evil bitch #power transfer #unofficial sequel #cc2023

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reverieparacosm · 10 months ago

Text

Art's Silent Language (Lukai Hwei x GN!Reader)

Warnings: small injury

Chapter 2: The Hidden Canvas

(part 1 here)

Summary: Hwei stumbles upon your secret art place, finding art books that showcase artwork resembling his own. This discovery leads him to realize that you have been studying his work. Simultaneously, you come across Hwei's secret art pieces, exposing a remarkable and dark talent within him. As the sun sets, a conversation between you and Hwei unfolds, initially filled with concern but escalating into an argument.

The hot golden sand shifts beneath Hwei's feet as he treks through the ruins, brushing aside low hanging vines and crumbling walls. Sweat gathers on his brow in the afternoon heat, but he presses on, driven by a singular goal - to find you.

The ruins, once a grand testament to opulence and extravagance, now stand as a faded testament to the passage of time. Ornate carvings adorn the crumbling walls, their intricate details fade and wear, barely recognizable. Delicate plasterwork, once a showcase of artistic prowess, hangs in tatters, revealing the skeleton of the structure beneath.

Hwei steps further into the ruin, his footsteps echo through the desolate halls, a melancholic symphony of solitude. The remnants of what were once grand chambers and lavish salons now lie in ruins, their faded grandeur whispering tales of a time long past.

The ceilings, once adorned with elaborate frescoes, lose their luster, their colors mute and fade with the passage of time.

Chipped and cracked mirrors, remnants of a once luxurious vanity, reflect a distorted image of Hwei as he passes by.

Nature begins to reclaim the space, with tendrils of ivy and moss intertwining with the remnants of the architecture. Vines snake their way through broken windows, casting intricate shadows on the worn marble floors below. It is as if the ruin itself becomes a living canvas, merging the beauty of nature with the faded splendor of human creation.

Hwei knows that you have a secret place, a sanctuary where you pour your heart and soul into your drawings. He believes that he will find you there, lost in the depths of your artistic expression. He can barely wait to show you his latest art idea.

Over the past months, the two of you have formed a close bond through sharing your works in progress, debating techniques late into the night by the light of the moons. You understand each other in a way few others can.

Yet as Hwei picks his way deeper into the ruins, he finds no signs of life. Only your discarded paintings from past sessions remain - landscapes, portraits, glimpses into vibrant imagined worlds. Your attention to detail astounds him, as it always does.

In the corner of the room, Hwei stands, his gaze fixated on the artwork studies and meticulous notes spread out before him.

The atmosphere is filled with a sense of abandonment, as if time has forgotten this place. The room is dimly lit, with shards of sunlight piercing through cracks in the worn-out wooden shutters, casting golden rays upon the dusty air. The air itself carries a musty scent, a reminder of the forgotten years.

As Hwei examines the studies, his eyes sparkle with delight. You have taken the time to study his art, to delve deep into the intricacies of his creations. He feels a surge of gratitude and validation, knowing that his work has resonated with another soul. It is a rare and cherished feeling, as if he has found a kindred spirit in the realm of art.

With gentle fingers, Hwei picks up a notebook filled with meticulous sketches and annotations. The pages are worn and aged, evidence of the countless hours spent in thoughtful contemplation. Each stroke and line captures the essence of his art, the emotions, and stories he seeks to convey.

Hwei's eyes wander across the room, and his gaze falls upon a stack of sketchbooks tucked away in a dusty corner.

With anticipation, he reaches out and pulls one of them towards him. These are the studies of his artworks that he has never shown to his temple masters, the hidden pieces that represent his unfiltered desires and untamed creativity.

As he flips through the pages, Hwei's heart sinks. Each sketch holds a glimpse into a world of imagination that he has kept locked away.

These are the art pieces that are deemed too unconventional, too unrestrained for the watchful eyes of his masters.

Hwei's eyes flicker across the room, drawn to a glimmering display of well-crafted jewelry nestled amongst the art and sketches. With cautious curiosity, he approaches the collection, his fingers trembling with anticipation and intrigue. Each piece is a testament to the skill and dedication of its creator, someone who pours their heart and soul into the art of jewelry-making.

As Hwei lifts a delicate necklace, he marvels at the intricate design and the meticulous attention to detail. The craftsmanship is exquisite, capturing the essence of nature's beauty in every shimmering gem and carefully wrought silver. He can feel the passion and dedication that goes into creating each piece, a resonance that echoes his own artistic journey.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Meanwhile, you cautiously enter Hwei's room, your heart racing with a mix of curiosity and worry. You also have been searching for him.

Upon adjusting to the gloomy atmosphere, your eyes are immediately drawn to a large canvas placed against the wall.

The artwork before you is a revelation, a powerful testament to Hwei's talent. It is unlike anything you have seen before, an embodiment of surrealism that both fascinates and unnerves you.

The canvas depicts a haunting forest, its trees swathed in shades of black and grey that seem to devour the light around them. The atmosphere is heavy with an eerie stillness, and the clouds overhead are painted in dark blues and purples, casting a sense of foreboding. It is as if the darkness itself has taken physical form within the artwork.

Your gaze follows the brushstrokes that reveal a glimpse of sunlight penetrating the dense foliage. But even the rays of light are tinged with darkness, painted in shades of orange and red, as if symbolizing a raging inner fire. The contrast between the somber trees and the fiery light creates a chilling atmosphere, as if the very essence of Hwei's inner turmoil has been captured on the canvas.

To your surprise and shock, hidden among the twisted branches and shadows are barely visible demon-like creatures. Their distorted forms and malevolent presence send a shiver down your spine.

The details are so vivid, yet subtly hidden, as if they are meant to be discovered only by those who dare to venture deeper into the artwork's eerie depths.

The demon-like creatures, once mere brushstrokes on the canvas, begin to stir. Their twisted forms contort and writhe, as if they are breaking free from the confines of the artwork. Your eyes widen in horror as their eyes, glowing with an otherworldly light, fixate on you.

Panic sets in as you realize they are no longer confined to the world of art; they are now tangible.

The first demon, with elongated limbs and a hunched posture, scuttles towards you on all fours. Its cracked, pale skin is stretched taut across its skeletal frame, revealing sinewy muscles that writhe beneath. Its face, contorted into a grimace, holds eyes that burn like fiery coals, casting an eerie glow upon its surroundings. Jagged teeth, sharp as razors, jut out from its deformed mouth, dripping with a viscous, black ichor.

Another demon, with a grotesquely elongated neck and a face that resembles a twisted visage of anguish, floats eerily above the ground. Its elongated limbs end in razor-sharp claws that scrape against the floor, leaving deep gouges in their wake. Its translucent, ethereal form seems to flicker and distort, as if it is constantly shifting between dimensions. Hollow, empty eyes peer out from sunken sockets, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Suddenly, one of the demons lunges forward, its grotesque hand wrapping around your trembling arm with a vice-like grip. The sensation is horrifyingly real, as if their malevolence has transcended the boundaries of paint and canvas. Despair and terror grip your soul as you struggle against the demon's relentless pull.

With a surge of adrenaline, you summon every ounce of strength within you and manage to wrench your arm free from the demon's clutches. The sensation of liberation is accompanied by a surge of relief, but the horror is far from over. Without looking back, you sprint away from the painting, each step echoing in the room.

Glancing over your shoulder in anticipation of the pursuing demons, an eerie sight greets your eyes.

The painting remains motionless, as if frozen in time. The demons, once animated and menacing, are now still, their malevolence trapped within the confines of the artwork.

You stand there, your heart pounding, trying to comprehend Hwei's artistic expression. You have never known him to delve so deeply into the macabre or to conjure such haunting imagery. It is a revelation, a glimpse into a side of him you had never imagined existed.

In that moment, you understand that Hwei possesses a talent that reaches far beyond what you had previously believed. His ability to capture the darkness and transform it into art is both unsettling and mesmerizing.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

As you venture back to your secret art place, a secluded haven where you can immerse yourself in your creative process, you are taken aback by an unexpected sight. There, standing amidst the vibrant artworks and sketches that adorn the walls, is none other than Hwei himself.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize that Hwei has stumbled upon your collection of art studies, meticulously crafted to capture, and understand the essence of his creations. You never intend for anyone, especially not the artist himself, to discover your private exploration of his art.

Hwei examines the sketches with curiosity and intrigue. It is as if he can see the depth of your admiration and the effort you have put into unraveling the secrets of his work. The vulnerability of having your hidden passion exposed makes you feel exposed in turn.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Hwei's voice carries a hint of surprise and gratitude.

"You honor me by studying my art," he says, his tone tinged with disbelief. "But I must confess that I do not believe I deserve such admiration."

You pause for a moment, taking in his words before responding. "Hwei, your art is nothing short of extraordinary," you reply, your voice filled with sincerity. "The way you bring your visions to life, with vibrant colors and captivating imagery, it is truly remarkable. You have a gift, and it deserves all the admiration it receives."

"I appreciate your kind words," he murmurs softly. "But sometimes, I cannot help but feel that my art falls short of the beauty I envision in my mind."

Hwei turns around, his eyes scanning the walls of your secret room, filled with artworks and inspirations.

He poses a question that lingers in the air, "Don't you feel lonely living in your own little world?"

A smile graces your lips. "Don't you feel powerless living in other people's worlds?" you reply softly.

His brow furrows in curiosity, and you continue. "Art, in all its diverse expressions, holds a captivating allure for us as human beings. We are instinctively drawn to music, poems, quotes, writing, and visual art because, at our core, we yearn for companionship. We possess an intrinsic desire to escape the clutches of solitude. We seek solace in the knowledge that we are not drifting into the depths of madness alone, but that there are others who comprehend the intricate nuances of our emotions. The profound connection that art fosters satiates our hunger for assurance, affirming that our thoughts and emotions are shared by kindred spirits."

"Hwei, I stumbled upon your secret artwork in your room, and I must say, it's truly beautiful. The way you bring your artistic visions to life is awe-inspiring. But... I can't ignore the sense of unease that it evokes in me. There's something dangerous hidden within your art, something that makes me worry about you."

Caught off guard by the expectation that you would understand and appreciate his creations without reservations, Hwei's expression hardens as he listens to your words. His voice carries a hint of anger as he responds, "You are supposed to understand, to appreciate the depths of my art. It's not just about beauty; it's about expressing the complexity of emotions and experiences. Can't you see the power and meaning behind it?"

The conversation quickly escalates into a heated argument, with your emotions colliding like waves in a stormy sea.

Hwei's frustration and disappointment fuel his words, while your concerns and fear make your voice tremble. Your once harmonious exchange of ideas turns into a clash of conflicting perspectives.

In the heat of the moment, Hwei's control over his paint magic falters. Unintentionally, a surge of colorful energy bursts forth from him, colliding with you. The impact sends you stumbling backward, pain radiating through your body.

Hwei's eyes widen in horror as he realizes what he has done. "No! I... I didn't mean to hurt you," he stammers, rushing to your side. His anger quickly transforms into guilt and remorse, his hands trembling.

Through gritted teeth, you manage to speak, your voice strained with both pain and disappointment. "Your art is undeniably captivating, but there's a darkness within it that I can't ignore. I wanted to understand, to support you, but I never expected it to lead to this. We need to find a way to control your power before it causes harm to others."

Burdened by guilt, Hwei feels the weight of the pain he has unintentionally caused, prompting a surge of remorse. Overwhelmed by the situation, he harbors an intense desire to distance himself, believing it best to leave you and prevent any further harm.

But before he can voice his thoughts, you look into his eyes, your voice filled with determination and an unwavering love. "Hwei, I want you. All of you," you say, your words cutting through his guilt. "Your flaws, your mistakes, your imperfections. I want you, and only you."

He kisses you. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn't have done anything else. He needs that breath you are holding.

He knows he has no right to touch you, to crave you like air, but he does both. And when he puts his mouth on yours, he recognizes the taste of you, as if you have been made just for him.

With a gentle yet firm touch, Hwei's hand found its way to your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin. The touch ignited a spark within you, sending waves of electricity coursing through your body. The softness of his touch contrasted with the fervor building between you, intensifying the desire that burned within.

With a whisper against your lips he says, “I never used to let people come too close. But then there was you, that came in and settled in the depths of my soul.”

Feeling the magnetic pull between you, you close the remaining distance, your lips meet in a passionate and hungry kiss. The world around you fades away as your mouths move in perfect harmony, exploring each other with fervent desire. The taste of Hwei, sweet and intoxicating, consumes your senses, leaving you craving more.

With his hand still cupping your cheek, Hwei tightens his grip, drawing you closer and intensifying the intimacy of the moment. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, drawing you tightly against his body. The sensation of his warmth against your skin sends shivers of ecstasy cascading through you, igniting a fire that burns with an insatiable hunger.

"My biggest fear," Hwei whispers, "is that eventually, you will see me the same way I see myself."

You bury your face in his shoulder as he holds you. All that you could think is that you need him. You need his arms around you, need him to hold you and whisper that you would find a way to be together.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

While walking back to the Koyehn temple after your argument, a soft silence envelops the air. The tension between you slowly dissipates, and without saying a word, your hands find each other, intertwining gently. The moonlight casts a gentle glow upon both of you.

In that moment, you turn to Hwei, your voice laced with vulnerability. "I am scared of the love I have for you," you confess, your words carrying the weight of truth. "Because I know it will ruin me. And I also know that I will let it."

As you find yourself gazing up at the vast expanse of the night sky, the twinkling stars above serve as a gentle reminder of the intricate dance of love that unfolds within the human heart. The eternal beacons of light, scattered across the celestial canvas, evoke a sense of both awe and contemplation.

In the presence of those luminous specks, you can't help but ponder the origins of our existence. A whisper of wonder escapes your lips as you wonder if, in some cosmic design, humanity might trace its roots back to the stars themselves. The concept of being made from stardust resonates deeply within you, igniting a spark of connection to the vastness of the universe.

However, as you reach the temple's entrance, a figure stands in the shadows, patiently waiting. There is something unsettling about his presence, a feeling that sends a shiver down your spine.

You should have listened to your feeling.

#hurt/comfort #x reader #league of legends #league of legends x reader #hwei #hwei x reader #hwei league of legends #lukai hwei #hwei the visionary #hwei lol #jhinhwei

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oceansssblue · 10 months ago

Text

[THE BAD BATCH]— "CANVAS"

ECHO/OFC 💖

OMEGA HAS THE BEST IDEA. SHE HAS BEEN EYING THE ARTIST ACROSS CID'S SALON FOR OVER A WEEK NOW; AND SHE'S FINALLY GOING TO ORDER THE BEST PRESENT EVER FOR ECHO.

WARNINGS: FLEETING MENTIONS OF ECHO'S BODY ISSUES&EXPERIENCE (NOTHING EXPLICIT). 99% FLUFF.

ONE-SHOT INSPIRED BY THIS WONDERFUL @cloned-eyes ART PIECE OF TATTOED ECHO! 💙✨

Omega counts the credits in her hands. She has been saving them for months, now; no more unnecessary mantel mix or cool accesories for her bow even if they make her momentarily happy. She's sure Echo's reaction will top all of that; and she has finally collected enough to buy the present she has being eying since she discovered the small tattoo parlour across Cid's salon. It's a cool place; full of bright neon lights and colourful images and shapes painted all over the walls. She has never actually entered the parlour; but she has seen enough through the displays of the window. She wasn't actively looking for a place like that at all, to start with; but once discovered, Omega couldn't think about anything else.

It's not just tattoos that the artist makes; but she draws and paints on every single surface imaginable too. Omega has seen a long line of clients bringing her all sort of pieces for her to decorate, to give some life to; house accesories, jewelry, books, speeders... Everything is a canvas for her. Omega's favourite one was probably a landscape design painted in a beautiful modern style on the back of a datapad.

She's got talent, the young woman that works with his collague in the shop. While she does the main art, her co-worker seems to take care of supplies and management. He helps with purely ink-on-skin jobs too. They're both not human, though they're not too far off anatomically speaking. They're definitely on the humanoid range; just small variations to their features and a whole different set of colour palette. Omega wonders if they came to Ord Mantell together from their native planet or if their encounter here was a mere coincidence. She's always curious; even about strangers that have nothing to do with her.

Their skin has a natural faint purplish tint, and they have big eyes with a pronounced double circled iris –the inner layer a darker lilac colour, the outer one a vibrant gold– and washed-out white marks on their neck and face. She has short purple hair, barely grazing her chin, and always wears six or more small braids that sometimes join together in beautiful ways. A bunch of earings hang of each of her slightly pointed ears; and tattoos roam all over her arms and the sides of her neck. She has two small ones on one cheek as well; black figures and dots Omega's not sure if they hold meaning or not. His co-worker looks and dresses in a similar way; comfortable cargo pants with military-like boots, a red T-shirt and black vest. They both look so cool Omega hasn't grown tired of staring at them yet.

The young teenager half skips happily to the parlour; a replica of Echo's prosthetics inside the bag hanging heavily on her shoulder. She had asked Tech to build them a week and a half ago; explaining her idea to the goggled clone and inmediately achieving his aproval. Tech had told her it was a very considerate and original gift. He had jumped at the challenge of building a copy of Echo's three main prosthetics –his scomp, and both of his cybernetic legs– in record time and without any of the others noticing it. Well, except Hunter, who had obviously heard his quiet screwing in the middle of the night and had quickly been informed of the plan.

Omega radiated energy when she opened the door to the parlour. Her big eyes quickly found their way to the artist that would make her idea come true, and she walked towards the front desk with a spring to her step.

"Hi! I love your work, and I'd like you to draw a bunch of stuff for me, please" she blurted out, her enthusiastic innocent voice inmediately catching the attention of the humanoid.

The artist tilted her head to the side, examining the young girl up and down. The new comer looked to be around thirteen or so; a shock of beautiful blond hair complementing her tanned skin. Her purplish-golden eyes sparkled with curiosity and humour.

"You're a bit young to get your skin inked, kid" she answered with a small chuckle. "Luckyly for you I don't really have an age minimum 'round here. Don't come crying next week when you change your mind, though. Erasing is always a torture, and a loss of my time. You sure?"

Omega's eyes widenned comically. She laughed while shaking her head vigorously to the sides, one hand coming up in a clear sign of rejection.

"Oh, no! No. I don't want to get a tattoo!" she frowned, the posibility passing through her head a second later before she nochalantly shrugged it away. "At least not now. I actually brought you some pieces for you to customize? Like you did with some of your other clients?"

The woman chuckles at Omega's lively personality. She points at the heavy bag hanging of her shoulder.

"I'm assuming they're in there?" She guesses, and Omega quickly nods and carefully places the bag in the floor, opening it up for the artist to see.

The woman crouches down and curiously peers into it. She frowns in confussion, and one hand cautiously hovers over one of the pieces while she tries to make the shape of the pile of cramped metal in her head. She realises what the girl is carrying and tilts her head up to her with clear surprise in her face.

"Are these prosthetics?"

Omega nod's proudly.

"Yeah! My brother Tech managed to make an extra improved pair for Echo –he's my other brother– in no time and I wanted you to decorate them before I give them to him. He's had his own for a while now, but I know he's not fully comfortable with them yet, even if he tries not to show it. So I thought personalizing them a bit would make him feel like they're more him, you know?"

Omega waits for the womans aproval. Tech said it was a good idea, so it must be, right? Anyhow, she kinda wants the opinion of the artist herself too. She makes a living of this; of giving soul and personality to pieces that form a part of others lifes.

To her relief, the woman seems gladly surprised. She slowly takes out one of the leg prosthetics and turns it carefully in her hand, examining the surface and caressing it here and there in an almost distracted way.

"It sounds like a cool idea, kid" she hesitates, not wanting to be the one to break the young girl's heart. "But customizing such large complex pieces is pretty expensive, specially if you want to add specific details yourself. Do you have the money?"

Omega nods proudly and takes the credits out of her pocket. She shows them to her with a smile.

"Yup! I have been saving for weeks now. It's enough, right?"

Omega sees the expression on the artist face fall, and her eyes widen. She looks back and forth between the credits on her hands and the artist; knowing what's going on.

"Is it that much more expensive?" She asks, worried, nibbling on her lower lip, trying to think of a solution to it. "I-maybe I can ask Tech and Hunter for more, uh maybe Wrecker, or I can sell some stuff around and..."

The artist interrumpts her rumbling with a hand on her shoulder, standing up besides her.

"Look, sweetheart... I can't use all my current materials in this pieces for this price, but I must have some old stock somewhere in the back. Outdated stuff is much cheaper, and we can forget about my personal fee as well, so you won't have to pay the extra. Or my time of work. Just the pure old raw materials, that should cut the price drastically" she eyes her expectant expression and the hope in her big eyes and sighs, pulling up a smile. "You can give me what you want and we'll call it a deal, alright?"

"Really?" the blonde nearly squeals, knees bouncing up and down, and the artist's smile widens.

"Yeah. Take the pieces to the front desk and lay them out. Do you have a clear idea of what you want to do with them?"

Omega quickly follows and she inmediately grabs her datapad –one of Tech's old ones– and starts pulling up photos and ideas of designs she had been investigating these last few days. She turns the datapad to the woman and grins.

"I've got loads!"

The artist smiles in amusement and pats the chair next to her. Omega hops on it and tilts her face to her, expectantly. The humanoid nods and points at the datapad with a vague gesture.

"Okay. Let's hear it, then".

(•••)

Viana didn't make a habit of being underpayed. Every inch of the fee for her job was perfectly detailed and taken into consideration; materials, time, number of details, backgrounds, how large was the piece, if it required a special varnish to seal the art, colours, layers... It wasn't the same customizing a watch with barely more than the first letter of someone's name than to decorate someone's speeder; so her prices really varied depending on each request.

The girl's –Omega, she had after learned– story had moved her enough to do a little favor for her. Just an exception to her usual strict rules. The blonde had showed her several images on her datapad –pointing out his brother Tech had runned a check up on her and decided she could be trusted with said information– and the woman had quickly put two plus two together. Those guys were clones, and not the ones that followed the laws of the Empire. These were guys that still remember what was honour, respect, doing the right thing. Viana still remembered how Rak and her had been able to escape their home planet with their help.

Truth is the saasra has always admired them. They were great soldiers, great men; and she had come from a tribe of warriors herself. She had long left those years behind; but she still payed attention to the same things. Plus, Echo's particular story was something else. Omega hadn't really gotten into details; just quickly passing of a coment on how he had been gravely injured in battle and how his body looked like now. Viana had read into the images shown before said change; the proud posture of the ARC trooper surrounded by his brothers and friends. She couldn't imagine what he had been forced to push through; not only accepting his own new body, but coping with the loss of so many dear people too.

She hand't been able to think on anything else after Omega left her workshop. The feeling of a new exciting project surged within her, ideas and splashes of colours and shapes constantly popping in her mind. Viana knew she wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless she started with this unusual project; so she had begun with the initial designs.

She always follows the same process. She draws a lazy sketch; absolutely everything she thinks could go well with the piece. Then she picks them out; re-doing them in better shapes and lines on a new datapad canvas. Once that is done, she meassures the original piece and replicates the dimensions on her app; moving her figures and details and overlapping them in layers so everything is taken to it's destined spot. She plays with colours and details –nothing too specific– in her datapad too; and then she moves onto the real piece. She draws the final selected sketch on it and then it's all a matter of colours and definition; swirls and micro-details. It's her favourite part; watching her ideas finally take life. Making dull pieces stand out.

Three days after Omega's arrival on her parlour, Viana has already drawn the main sketches out. She wanted to personalize everything to the detail, like Omega had requested; every inch of the former soldier's cybernetics was perfectly planned out. Though Omega would probably like something vibrant and jazzy best, the saasra knew it had to be something discreet enough so it wouldn't interfere with Echo's posible future misions. Viana didn't exactly knew what they did for a living, or what the future held for them; but she could get an idea. Times were difficult now, dangerous. She couldn't make the prosthetics striking enough to catch people's attention. It had to be somewhat subtle.

With that main reason in mind, she had designed a background of greys, blacks and reds for all of the three pieces in her hands. The lines parted separetly on the top of the scomp prosthetic before travelling down and crossing each other and swirling at the end; joining together in a splash of dark red. The same went for the legs; full opalascent black for were the top part attached to real skin and slowly switching to a gradient grey as they went down to the feet. Small streaks of dark red also swirled around each other as they went; almost following the shapes of human muscles in soft and precises curves. Not wanting them to look too perfectly made –he was a soldier, after all, not an inmaculate coruscanti model– she added some groundge details too; smearing some black and grey paint together here and there without any particular shape, and with her metalic sharp brushes, simulating scratches and dips on the surface.

Once that was out of the way –she had chosen those reds, greys and blacks to match the rest of the clone's armour by Omega's pictures– she followed with the small details. Viana had given it much thought. She wanted the prosthetics to really feel part of Echo, as Omega had in mind too. She wanted to give him something with which he could feel like himself. That right after he tried them on, he'd feel more confident and reassured. And not just because it was a –poorly– payed comissioned job.

Viana decided on a mix of what seemed to be the clone's most important aspects of his life. Omega had more or less explained parts of his life to her, so she could understand what to work with. Viana knew she needed to include five main pieces of Echo's life in these; the Jedi, Clone Force 99 –Omega's brothers, herself included now–, Captain Rex, the Domino Squad, and his twin Fives.

For the Jedi, Viana drew tiny light-sabers on the edges of each prothesis that at first glance looked like a line of simple stiches. She couldn't plant something on the surfaced that screamed "hey, Empire, right here, i'm your enemy" after all, so it was an unasumming little thing. No-one would find out unless they specifically looked for it. Hell, Echo might not even realise it himself.

For Clone Force 99, she designs four washed-out white skulls to compliment the one already etched on the top left of his chest plate. She adds a very carefully hand-drawn detail for each one, so it represents the rest of the members of the squad; one skull crossed by a delicate black bow, another with a stripe across the head for the long-haired clone's bandana, one with the crosshair on the right eye and the last one with a myriad of scars coming from the left side of the skull and ending on the left.

She adds a splash of a hand print for Captain Rex around the prothesis holding the scomp. The blue sticks up too much with the rest of the colour pattern, though, even if its a dark shade with some black in between; so Viana adds some minor swirls and slashes of the same tone here and there.

Following Omega's idea, she draws five small domino's in black and grey around one of the cybernetic's ankles; tying them up to each other with a thin line of scarlet red. A black five is a perfect replica of one of Omega's pictures on the other ankle; red and greys and blues swirling around the number as if trying to cling to it.

Viana gives a few extra last touches and examines the three pieces in front of her. Satisfied and proud, she gives them a final varnish so they hold all kind of atmospheric adversities; and two weeks after Omega's request, the woman has her art ready to be send on it's way.

(•••)

Viana makes her way to where Omega told her their ship would be docked with her request carefully placed inside a box with the parlour's purple logo. It's heavy, but not as much as she first imagine the prothesis would be; she's able to carry them without much effort til she's standing right in front of the Marauder –Omega's home–.

She examines the external appearence of the ship with intrigue. Omega's a bubbly thing, and she couldn't stop talking in excitement when she visited her workplace. Viana had half-listened distractedly while she pulled out basic designs and drew quick sketches for the blonde to sway in one direction or the other. By the way her eyes filled with warmth and her smile widened while talking of this ship, the saarsa knew it wasn't just a ship for them at all.

There's two men standing on the outside, one crouched down while examining something with a pack of wrenchers and tools by his side; the other observing with his arms crossed. After spending a few hours of the last two weeks staring at Omega's pics, they're easily recognizable; the one with the long hair and red bandana is obviously Hunter, while the one doing the repairs is Tech. She can't see the other two –Wrecker and Echo himself– so she asumes they're either inside or somewhere else in Ord Mantell.

Hunter's eyes flicker around his surroudings before they land on her. It's like he noticed someone staring; she wondered if she had been doing that with too much intensity. To show she's not a threat –this guy is clearly ready and alert– she shows a small gentle smile and hesitantly takes a step towards them.

"Can we help you?" Hunter asks, frowning unconsciously, his stance widening slightly while turning towards her.

Tech glances up and his eyes quickly roams over the newcomer's appearance, quickly drawing the right conclusions by the expresion on his face.

"Oh! You must be the artist from Omega's most recent quest" he nods as a way of hello, standing up and adjusting the right lense of his goggles before continuing talking with her. "I asume that you bring the final results?"

Viana nods and brings the box in her hands up as a demonstration. Hunter relaxes and Tech nods, curiously walking towards her.

"May I have a look?"

They're really polite, and really handsome too. Most clones are, of course. It's no wonder people used to like going to clone's pubs before.

"Sure" Viana answers, her mere observation not making her shy away in the slightest.

She patiently waits while Tech lifts the lid of the box up and takes a peak inside. Hunter can't hold back his curiosity either and follows him. They both stay silent for so long that Viana starts to feel a bit nervous and hesitant about her work.

"Is it... Is it what Omega hoped for?"

She's usually very confident about herself; but Echo's situation is delicate, and the details she has added in the cybernetics, albeit by Omega's request, are too personal for a stranger to play with. She hopes she hasn't overstepped.

"It exceeds my expectations, in fact" points out Tech, to her inmediate relief. "And I am sure Omega's as well. I'm particularly surprised at how detailed and lively this are without drawing too much attention to it, nothing too vibrant or extravagant. It should work perfectly well with our kind of lifestyle. Congratulations are in order, I believe".

Tech has a weird way of speaking; Viana's lips almost tugging upwards in another smile. She feels proud and happy at his observarions, though; and Hunter thinks the same as well by his firm grateful nod.

"Thank you for doing this" the latest says, his voice slightly rougher than the average clone but equally gentle. "I know for a fact Omega doesn't have enough credits to pay for this. She can be very persuasive, I should know. We can pay you a bit extra ourselves".

The offer is tempting, and Viana has spent a lof of her free time doing this; but she wouldn't feel good if she took the credits in. She feels this project has been made personal –there's always one of those once in a while– and she just feels lucky and proud to have produced such an important piece. It's obvious these guys don't have much themselves considering they don't even have a proper house; and she's sure they've already been through a lot. A bit of generosity and genuine compassion wouldn't hurt them.

"Save it for your family" she answers, then. "It has been a fun experience for me. Plus, I'm glad I'm able to do something for you lot".

Hunter watches her in surprise. They're different enough from the original clone templates that people don't usually associate them with clones, specially with a kid by their side; furthermore, they don't usually find people grateful for their service anymore.

Viana smiles.

"I'm native from Saar" she explains, and Hunter inmediately recognises the planet's name. "I remember".

A heavy silence falls between the three of them. Saar was completely destroyed by the Separatists back then; the army of warriors ruled by King Jarelan refusing to lay down their weapons after their monarch's death. They had called for the Republic's help; and two battalions of clones had been sent to them. They hand't been enough to save the planet form the separatist wrath; but they had saved uncountable lives, and the saarsa's had been able to relocate in another planet with the help of the Senate.

In that moment, someone walks down the Marauder towards them. Viana's attention is quickly snapped to the new presence; inmediately recognising the soldier in front of her. He frowns in confussion at the stranger talking with his brothers; but Echo quickly asumes she's just another woman swayed by Hunter's –or maybe Tech's– appeal and doesn't pay her too much attention while he turns to him.

"Hey, Sarge, I'm gonna go replenish our suplies now" he notifies, feeling a bit restless under the stranger's attentive purple and gold eyes. "Com's open, if you need something. Be back in a few".

Hunter nods, gives a small worded agreement and Echo's eyes glance one last time at the woman before walking away. Viana is sure he has some body issues like Omega explained; but right now he looks so confident and handsome –every bit of the perfect soldier– that the saarsa can't help but feel intrigued and attracted to him.

"Always this interested in your clients?" Hunter quietly asks, amused.

Viana tears his eyes from Echo's retreating figure and laughs.

"Not usually, no" she answers calmly, unashamed of being caught by them. "But you can learn a lot about a person from customising their things. And I had a lot of pics and details from him from that blonde girl of yours."

"So you are interested in him, then?" Tech pops in, and Viana shrugs while a telling smile makes her way on her face.

"He's hot, isn't he?" she places the box in Tech's hands, and decides it's time to return to her shop. "Tell Omega I said hi."

Hunter hums thoughtfully while watching her leave.

(•••)

Echo makes his way to the tattoo parlour with a mess of emotions twirling inside his mind. He couldn't even describe what he first felt when he opened Omega's present and his eyes landed on a new customized set of prosthetics; couldn't explain how it felt trying them on. Every swirl of paint, every line and detail... It was all him, the batch's reds and greys and Legion's 501 blue's; the brave people he had sworn to serve and his two families etched on his second skin now, both Force Clone 99 with each of their distinctives, and his Domino brothers. And Fives. Oh, Fives. He would have thought his prosthetics to be the coolest shit ever if he had been there to see him.

Echo had always had a tough time getting used to his cybernetics. He had been forced to accept them pretty quickly, mind you –inmediately jumping back to the fight in Anaxes and after that–; but there had always been a residual disgust and sense of inedequancy in the silence of his mind, after all was set and done. Suddenly half droid, it had been difficult to adjust; even if his new abilities were actually valuable to the team now. This prosthetics, on the other hand... They carried so much meaning. They hold little parts of his story, of his people; and he had felt inmediately conected to them. Echo opened the doors of the shop with a mess on his mind but feeling confident in his steps like never before.

His eyes inmediately found the stranger from the day before and he aproached her in contemplative silence. She was working on something, eyes stuck to her datapad and one of those tech-pencils on her right hand; brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration.

"We're not taking any more clients for today" she barely mumbled, without taking a glance at the newcomer. "Come back tomorrow, please".

Echo studied her. She resembled a human, but she was undeniably different; her skin a faint purple and her eyes shining brightly even when pointed down at her datapad. His eyes wondered over each mark on her face.

"I just wanted to personally thank you" he voiced, patiently. "You did a great job with these".

She took a fleeting glance at him, nodding distractedly; inmediately abandoning her current sketch when she recognised who he was and straightening in her chair.

"Echo!" she exclaimed, surprised. He gave her a small nod and smile, and tried to stay still while her bright eyes roamed over him.

She hummed appreciately and showed him a wonderfull grin.

"You make a good-looking canvas, soldier".

Echo chuckles, left hand shyly travelling to the back of his neck, and pulls a smile as well.

Gathering up his courage, he tilts his head.

"Fancy going out for a drink, now that your closing the shop?"

Viana is momentarily stunned; but she melts and quickly nods, eager. Hunter and Tech must have pointed out her interest to him; but she doesn't really care. Echo is hot –undeniably so wearing her work–and she hasn't got any other plans for tonight.

"Give me five to close this up and we'll go" she asks.

Echo is surprised –and at the same time, relieved– at how easily all of this is; and waits patiently for Viana to finish her sketch and lock the doors. They walk to none other than Cid's salon chatting with each other and stealing glances along the way.

Maybe he can have some luck after all.

THE END.

---------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

DAMN, THAT WAS A LONG ONE! I FELT SO INSPIREEEED. I'M HAPPY WITH WHAT CAME OUT. DID YOU LIKE IT TOO? LET ME KNOW! HELPS ME STAY MOTIVATED TO CONTINUE WRITING : )

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