#face razor women

[a-journey-to-true-self]

3 Reasons Women Should do Charity

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) once addressed a group of women and encouraged them to give charity. He said that he had seen that most of the people in Hell were women. The women asked why this was so. Why Women Should Be Mindful Women often curse and are ungrateful to their husbands. Women can be led astray easily. Women have some deficiencies in their intelligence and religion. What Are These…

[globalinsightsservices]

Women Face Razor Market Outlook To 2033 By Product Type, Application And Geography

Market Definition

Women Face Razor is a specialized razor designed specifically for women. The razor is designed to shave the face without causing irritation or razor burn. It is typically smaller than a traditional razor and has a curved blade to provide a close shave. The razor also has a safety guard to protect the skin from cuts.

Market Outlook

The technology used in womens face razors has come a long way over the years, and there are some key trends that have emerged in recent years. These trends are all about making the shaving process easier, faster, and more comfortable for women.

One of the main trends in womens face razor technology is the use of multi-blade razors. These razors have several blades that work together to provide a close, smooth shave. The multiple blades allow for a closer shave in fewer strokes, which can reduce the amount of time it takes to shave. Additionally, these razors are often designed with comfort in mind, so they can be used without causing irritation or razor burn.

Another trend in women’s face razor technology is the use of water-activated blades. These blades are designed to be activated by water, which can help to reduce irritation and skin sensitivity. Additionally, these blades are designed to remain sharp for longer, so they can provide a smoother, more comfortable shave.

The key drivers of the women’s face razor market are convenience, cost, and safety. With the emergence of technology, women are more likely to opt for a razor that offers a convenient and safe shaving experience. Furthermore, the cost of the product is also a major factor driving the market.

One of the key drivers of the womens face razor market is convenience. Women are increasingly seeking out products that are easy to use and require minimal effort. Face razors are designed to provide an effortless and comfortable shaving experience for women. They are typically designed with a curved handle and a wide array of blades that provide a more comfortable and efficient shave. Additionally, many face razors are now designed with a pivoting head that allows for a more precise and comfortable shave.

The cost of the product is also a major driving factor for the womens face razor market. Women are increasingly looking for products that offer a great value for money. Many face razors are now available at an affordable price point, making them an attractive purchase option for women. Additionally, many face razors come with a variety of blades and attachments that can be purchased separately, allowing women to customize their shaving experience.

Safety is also a key factor driving the womens face razor market. As women are more likely to suffer from cuts, nicks, and razor burn, they are more likely to seek out products that provide a safe and comfortable shaving experience. Many face razors are now designed with safety features such as a lubricating strip or a rubber grip that helps to reduce the risk of cuts and nicks. Additionally, many face razors are now designed with a pivoting head that allows for a more precise and comfortable shave.

To Know More:  https://www.globalinsightservices.com/reports/women-face-razor-market//?utm_id=1014

Research Objectives

Estimates and forecast the overall market size for the total market, across product, service type, type, end-user, and region

Detailed information and key takeaways on qualitative and quantitative trends, dynamics, business framework, competitive landscape, and company profiling

Identify factors influencing market growth and challenges, opportunities, drivers and restraints

Identify factors that could limit company participation in identified international markets to help properly calibrate market share expectations and growth rates

Trace and evaluate key development strategies like acquisitions, product launches, mergers, collaborations, business expansions, agreements, partnerships, and R&D activities

Thoroughly analyze smaller market segments strategically, focusing on their potential, individual patterns of growth, and impact on the overall market

To thoroughly outline the competitive landscape within the market, including an assessment of business and corporate strategies, aimed at monitoring and dissecting competitive advancements.

Identify the primary market participants, based on their business objectives, regional footprint, product offerings, and strategic initiatives

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Market Segmentation

The global Women Face Razor Market is segmented by product type, blade type, usage, and region. By product type, the market is divided into disposable razors, cartridge razors, electric razors, safety razors. Based on blade type, it is bifurcated into single blade razors, multi-blade razors. On the basis of usage, the market is classified into daily use razors, travel razors, specialty razors. Region-wise, the market is segmented into North America, Europe, Asia-Pacific, and the Rest of the World.

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Major Players

The global Women Face Razor Market report includes players like Gillette (USA), Schick (USA), BIC (France), Wilkinson Sword (UK), Harry’s (USA), Dorco (South Korea), Venus (P&G) (USA), Feather (Japan), Kai (Japan), Personna (USA)

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Research Scope

Scope – Highlights, Trends, Insights. Attractiveness, Forecast

Market Sizing – Product Type, End User, Offering Type, Technology, Region, Country, Others

Market Dynamics – Market Segmentation, Demand and Supply, Bargaining Power of Buyers and Sellers, Drivers, Restraints, Opportunities, Threat Analysis, Impact Analysis, Porters 5 Forces, Ansoff Analysis, Supply Chain

Business Framework – Case Studies, Regulatory Landscape, Pricing, Policies and Regulations, New Product Launches. M&As, Recent Developments

Competitive Landscape – Market Share Analysis, Market Leaders, Emerging Players, Vendor Benchmarking, Developmental Strategy Benchmarking, PESTLE Analysis, Value Chain Analysis

Company Profiles – Overview, Business Segments, Business Performance, Product Offering, Key Developmental Strategies, SWOT Analysis

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With Global Insight Services, you receive:

10-year forecast to help you make strategic decisions

In-depth segmentation which can be customized as per your requirements

Free consultation with lead analyst of the report

Infographic excel data pack, easy to analyze big data

Robust and transparent research methodology

Unmatched data quality and after sales service

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[sugarwarachan]

sex pollen troubles - ft. k. bakugou

summary: prohero!Bakugou gets hit with a sex quirk. too bad his roommate hates him—right?

wc: 1.8k

pairing: prohero!Katstuki Bakugou x roommate!reader

content warnings: MDNI, Bakogou has a roommate because his therapist tells him to, fem!reader is an investigative journalist, gratuitous use of Ace (hello gilmore girls fans) idiot Katsuki, pining Katsuki, fingerless gloves make an appearance sorry not sorry, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names like baby, pretty girl, princess, breeding but only if you squint

a/n: word vomited this out in less than 24 hrs

He’s praying you don’t pick up.

“Bakugou?” You sound annoyed, a little suspicious even.

He never calls you.

“Ace.” You hate that nickname, but the thought of saying your actual name in the desperate growl that is his voice right now makes his head spin. “I need - fuck - are you home right now?”

Sex quirks are a dime a dozen these days. He’s been hit with a few before, simple one that are usually pretty easy to shake. (He still hates the premature ejaculate memory, though, coming home with his boxers stiff and an image of you spread out on his bed playing like a film in his head. He hadn't been able to look you in the eyes for weeks.)

He’s never been hit with one as strong as this. The second the mist hit his nostrils he was huffing up the scent of vanilla and citrus and strong black coffee, just the way you like it, before he realized what was happening, the villain ripping down the street in the opposite direction while arousal hit him like a truck.

Bakugou's practically doubled over talking to you now, the ache in his dick throbbing in time with his fucking heartbeat.

“Yeah, I’m home.” Even annoyed you sound like heaven. “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He barks out a laugh, and before he knows it, he's telling you the truth. “Got hit with a sex quirk. A big one.”

Your breath bitches slightly on the other line. He’s pretty sure his cock jumps at the sound.

“And I - " need you right fucking now - “fuck - I can’t call anyone else.”

It has to be you. He’s got women he could call, sure, anyone who might want to get into a pro hero’s pants, but it has to be you for a reason he doesn’t want to look at too closely.

You’re silent for a beat, before you say, “Send me a pin. I’ll come get you.”

He hated you at first. Always talking his ear off about every fucking thing, bringing up articles that remind you of cases you're covering—it was like living with Deku dialed up to 11.

But what he hated even worse was when you stopped talking. When you realized he wasn’t actually gonna come around and be nice to you, when you figured out, oh fuck, he’s actually just an angry prick, and left him alone.

One day he could count on constant chatter when he was back from patrol, the next, nothing at all. You even switched up your schedule so he barely saw you, a fact he didn’t tell his court-ordered therapist because he was supposed to be getting better at being around other people, not worse.

He hates remembering this now with his dick hard as steel and weeping from the tip like he’s fucking 15. The alley is secluded, thank fuck, so no one can see him shaking and groaning, forearms braced on the wall in front of him, head hanging down like a panting dog. He can barely move; every brush of his pants against his erection like a live wire to the brain.

By the time you pull up—five minutes, forty six seconds later, he counted—he’s so frayed and tense that the minute he sees your face, he shouts, “Took you fucking long enough."

Your face shutters closed the way it always does around him, and he wants to fucking die.

“Fuck, Ace, I’m sorry - it’s just, I’m fucking miserable right now - "

“Why did you call me, Katsuki?”

It’s a mistake to look you in the eye. His restraint is a razor’s edge at this point, and seeing your beautiful face is too much. You've always been pretty, but the light shining on your soft hair is convincing him he can write fucking poetry all of a sudden.

“You know why,” he grits out.

You step forward, vanilla and citrus and coffee flooding his nose.

“No, I don’t. You act like you fucking hate me half the time and ignore me the rest.” You scrape a hand across your face in frustration. “And then you call me sounding like that. Why wouldn't I be confused?"

“I want you.” It’s out of his mouth in a flash, and he knows it’s the right thing to say by the way your shoulders relax. “I’m a fucking asshole, I know it. I’m not good at feelings, baby, I'm sorry, but I want you so fucking bad it’s like I could break my teeth over it. It has to be you, Ace, fuck, I’m sorry, it can’t be anyone else - "

You shut him up your mouth, your lips locking into his as both of your noses bump against each other. He doesn’t care; he just needs you as close to him as he can get you. It’s better than anything he imagined, finally touching you, finally giving in to the attraction that’s dogged him ever since you walked into his life.

You taste like coffee and a little bit of that strawberry lip gloss he loves so much. He licks into the seam of your mouth and relishes the shiver that goes through your body.

“Like that, baby?” He breaks away, nosing at your jaw, nipping at the juncture of your throat. That makes you gasp. “You smell so fucking good here.” He jerks his hips, hisses through his teeth as his cock jumps in his pants, pulsing with need.

“Let me,” he hears you say, and you’re tugging his pants open to get your hand around him. The second your fingers wrap around him his eyes roll up in his head. He could cum just from this, he realizes.

“Of course you’d have a pretty dick,” you say with a look of annoyance, and he’s not entirely sure what to say to that besides puff up his chest. You laugh, and it’s almost fond, and goddammit he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything else -

With a growl, he pulls your hand away and backs you up against the wall, peppering kisses down your neck. The whines he’s pulling from your mouth is making everything in his life worth it. He’d fight a thousand fucking villains if it meant this, fingering the seam of your panties under your little skirt as you cry out for more.

“Wear this for me?”

“Like fucking hell I did,” you retort.

“Sure thing, princess.” He runs the pad of two fingers over the soaking wet seam of your panties. A feral grin passes over his face as your thighs tremble and press together. “This just happened to you all on your own?”

He roughly pulls your panties to the side to gather up the slick at your entrance, pushing your hips apart and settling himself between them.

“You’ve gotta come first, pretty girl.” You like when he calls you pet names; he’s been watching the way your skin breaks down out in goosebumps each time. It’s a like a drug being this close to you, making you feel this good. “The second I’m inside ya I’m gonna blow my fucking load so be good and come for me, yeah?”

The rough material of his fingerless gloves rubs against your clit as he stuffs two fingers in your pussy. Your little hole sucks him in greedily as you whine and buck against him.

“Harder, Kats, please - you won’t fucking break me - "

He adds another finger to stretch you out, keeping his palm rocking against your pubic bone with every grind. You’re fluttering around his fingers, whimpers echoing off the walls in the alley.

“That’s it, baby, there you go. Fuck, yeah, you like me stuffing this pretty pussy full?” You dig your nails into his scalp as you hold onto him for dear life, whimpers ratcheting up to moans and cut-off screams as he starts to feel your cunt clamp down hard on him.

You moan his name against his neck as you cum. “Just needed to think about me stuffing you full?” He can’t help but smirk, which quickly turns into a hissing groan when your hand finds him again and positions him right at your core.

“I could say the same for you,” you smirk, rolling your hips and coating the head of his cock in the slick of your orgasm. He chokes on his spit, bracing one forearm on the wall behind you, his free hand stilling your hips in place.

“Lift me up,” you pout.

“Didn’t know you were bossy.”

“Didn’t think you would like it,” you shoot back, rolling down onto his cock and taking an inch of him inside you. “This position’s better, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, you devil woman.” He can barely think. “Baby, I don’t - god fucking damn it - I don’t have any - "

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Same. Clean, too, I mean.” He’s rambling. He never rambles. “I’ve got my check-up stats in my phone if you’d like to see them.”

You laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his entire life.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes him aback, but he’s been dying to know what you taste like since he met you, honestly.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You can kiss me.” He nips at your mouth and laughs at your pout when he pulls away. “Let me get all the way inside ya though first, huh?”

He feeds you his dick inch by inch, clenching his teeth at the way you squirm and plead for more. You’re slippery and warm, your cunt making obscene squelching noises with every rock of his hips.

With one final thrust, he’s seated up to the hilt, balls slapping against the meat of your thighs and ass.

“So fucking perfect,” he moans in your ear. “All for me - just for me, isn’t that right, Ace?”

Your head jerks up and down in affirmation.

“Say it, pretty girl. Say you’re fucking mine. Tell me how much you like my dick getting this pussy nice and tight. Bet I can get her to scream again, huh?”

He pinches your clit between two fingers. You jerk in his arms.

“Close, princess? Like it a little mean?”

He rocks his his up so he’s dragging the head of his cock across your g spot, over and over. Your eyes roll back in your head and your breathing gets shallower, shorter.

“Please please don’t fucking stop, ohmygodohmygod feels so fucking good, Kats- "

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice and all rhythm flies out the window. He grabs the meat of your hips and fucks up into you roughly, shooting thick ropes of cum against your cervix.

The creamy sticky ring at the base of his cock when he pulls out is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He looks up at you, sees the appreciative gleam in your eye. You're turned on by that, too.

“Can we do this again when we’re home?” he asks. “Maybe after I’ve made you dinner?”

The smile you return is like the sun. “We better.”

[paper-mario-wiki]

i think that tumblr should let you annotate your posts like Genius does with song lyrics to help dissuade people who are always looking for statements to take in bad faith so they can start an argument for no good reason.

"Trans girls, try not to shave your face every day! Razors can leave behind micro cuts that will scar and get worse if not given time to heal." ^ In this section, Scout gives advice based on research and personal experience about how sometimes people will forego their own health and wellness in striving towards an aesthetic goal, potentially unknowingly. It can be surmised by looking at Scout's posting history that she is pro-trans-safety, so it is unlikely that this is a reckless attempt to trick trans women into getting murdered by means of a hypothetical belligerent transphobe who would see someone wearing makeup with a 5 o' clock shadow and fly into a killing rage. If a trans woman were in an environment where that situation may be arise, and she lives in such a way where she must necessarily enter into that environment every day, we can extrapolate that Scout likely wouldn't expect her to follow this advice.

[perfectlystrangeangel]

[punkitt-is-here]

Had to write a three-page screenplay script for a "Discovery" for class. Didn't have any further instructions. It's super off-the-cuff, but I wanted to share it. Happy pride <3

INT. COLLEGE DORM - NIGHT.

A college student sits at his desk, sketching. It's a one room apartment, and his roommate is sound asleep. He's sketching in the light of a single lamp, being quiet. The student, GABE (male, 19) is drawing a cartoon version of himself. He's studying outfits from a fashion catalogue, drawing himself in different ones. He bites the tip of his pencil, not feeling the piece he's working on. He rolls his chair back, reeling away from the desk. Gabe puts his hands in his hair, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He lets out a long exhale. It's late.

After a moment, he rolls back to the desk. Tapping the pencil to his head, he flips through the pages. It's an unremarkable task, stopping on a random page. Oh, the women's fashion section. It has simple, practical outfits for girls, including a jean skirt. Gabe peers at it. Fuck it, it's late. He erases the pants of one of his drawings and pencils in a skirt instead.

He pauses.

He stares at it.

Something here is weird.

He goes to erase it, but once he does, he just draws it in again. This time with more care. More detail. He stares at it again.

Tears well up in his eyes.

GABE

(whispering)

…what the fuck?

Gabe, confused, touches his hand to his eye. He looks at the tear on his finger. Huh? He stares at the drawing again. He looks back at his roommate, sound asleep. He's having some sort of moment, but he has to be quiet. He frantically looks back at his sketchbook.

GABE

(whispering)

Uh…

A beat.

Gabe starts drawing himself again. In the women's fashion this time. It's like a whole different world. He's drawing like crazy. It's all flowing out of him. He draws another.

And another. Slowly, details start to adjust in his art.

Longer hair. Longer eyelashes. Daintier poses. More smiles.

He's got tears running down his face, but he's not wearing any emotion. He's not sure what to think.

CUT TO

An indeterminate amount of time later. Gabe stares at his notebook. It's full. It's lots of drawings of him.

As…well, he guesses as a girl. But he's not one. He flips through the book again, then turns towards the dark window his desk resides next to. He looks at himself. Patchy facial hair and a shaggy haircut.

CUT TO

INT. DORM HALLWAY - NIGHT

Gabe rushes down the hallway, looking frantic. He's carrying a bag.

INT. DORM BATHROOM - NIGHT

It's quiet inside the bathroom. No one else occupies the space. It's just him and his reflection. His reflection? Maybe their reflection. Her reflection? No, that's not right. Is it right? Gabe stares at himself intently. The whirring of a trimmer cuts through the silence. He brings it up to his facial hair, shearing away a week's worth of fuzz.

He looks at himself like it's not him in the mirror. He holds a hand up to his face, feeling it.

It's not enough. Not yet. He has to know.

He gets out his phone and starts typing.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFHG

He frantically types, misspelling. He backspaces like his life depends on it.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFF ALL

THE WAY

He quickly scans an article and then gets to work, pulling some miscellaneous bathroom supplies out of his bag. Shaving cream. A razor. Gifts for cleaning up at college. He wets his face. Applies the shaving cream. Does careful strokes down his cheeks and neck. Slowly, someone reveals themselves.

They lean down, splashing themselves with water. They look up, and it's a different person. She's completely shaved her facial hair off. Gabe hasn't seen herself like this since she was in freshman year of high school, before facial hair was even an option. She reaches up and touches her face, smooth to the touch. She stares, enamored. A moment. She grabs a towel and dries her face off, and then looks again. She's so…different. But that's her! That's Gabe! Is it Gabe? She doesn't know anymore. A close up to her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. Her neck. It's all so new. She starts laughing. She laughs, and tears well up in her eyes a little. She laughs some more. In moments, she's full on crying tears of joy. She doesn't know why. But she is! That's her!

CUT TO

INT. SECONDHAND - DAY

Gabe is at a clothing rack, searching for something. She looks around, a little embarrassed. She browses for a moment before finding what she wants. She passes by some more racks carefully, trying not to be too obvious. She slips into the changing room, then locks the door.

GABE

…okay.

Gabe unbuckles her belt. In a moment, she's wearing black leggings. She hikes them up, then unclips a gaudy skirt from the clothes-hanger. She stares at it, a little scared of it and what it represents. She bites her lip. She stretches it out and then steps in. She looks up at the mirror.

Oh shit, that's her! That's her!

Gabe is wearing a long, patterned skirt and a tee-shirt. The colors don't match at all, and the patterns don't either.

She looks a bit like a yard sale of a person. But it's her!

She spins around, watching the fabric flow out from her hips in a whirlwind of stripes and insignia. She laughs again.

This is her! This is her!

This is her!

[amazon720]

Finishing Touch Flawless Facial Hair Remover for Women, White/Rose Gold Electric Face Razor for Women with LED Light for Instant and Painless Hair Removal

Brand--Finishing Touch

Recommended Uses For Product--Lip, Face

Special Feature--Not-Applicable

Power Source--Battery Powered

Included Components--Battery

About this item

One Finishing Touch Flawless Facial Hair Remover, White/Rose Gold stainless steel bladed hair remover for women features 18 karat gold plating and LED light for precision

Use the face hair trimmer to instantly remove peach fuzz and hair from lips, chin, neck and cheeks or use as an eyebrow shaper to maintain flawless brows between, or instead of, waxing and plucking

Hypoallergenic and dermatologist recommended, this electric face razor allows anyone to painlessly remove unwanted hair by simply pressing to the face and making small circular motions, leaving skin smooth and hair-free

Made with 18 karat gold and shaped like a tube of lipstick for discreet hair removal anywhere, this womens electric razor utilizes revolutionary Butterfly Technology that removes hair by microscopically paring it down by a spinning head covered by a plate

Flawless facial hair removal device is gentle enough to use everyday before putting on makeup, no need to wait for regrowth, so you can enjoy hairless skin everyday without nicks, bumps or razor burn

[citrustan]

dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd be available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What certainly doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

But that thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor-sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

Upon spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work again?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

here's the next installment: dating girl (jjk) #2.1

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

[fierceawakening]

Please yell and scream about this transmisogyny with me because I’m about ready to punch my boss in the face.

So I work at a homeless shelter and there are various things people are not allowed to have with them as they might be used as weapons or for self harm. Razors are on this list.

So far so good, yeah?

One of my coworker’s clients is a trans woman, and thus grows more facial hair than most women. She came to my coworker saying, “I’m trans and I really need to shave or I don’t pass, may I have a razor?”

My colleague came up with the following compromise:

She brought a razor into the case management office, invited the client in, handed her the razor, supervised her as she shaved, then asked for the razor back, and kept it in a locked drawer for next time.

My colleague got in trouble for this, because not allowed means not allowed.

…I am incandescent with fury.

Even if that wasn’t safe enough, they should have worked with my coworker and her client to come up with something.

That was bullshit and I’m furious.

[mybombae]

The Bombay Face Razor offers precision shaving for smooth, flawless skin. Ideal for removing facial hair with ease, it’s the go-to tool for a clean, polished look. #FaceRazor #SmoothSkin

[allpiesforourown]

*bingqiu slice of life*

Shen yuan: binghe you said you wanted to feminize me... I bought some women's things to surprise you today ;)

Binghe: OMG OMG OMG- what am I looking at

Shen Yuan: its the exact same razor I use to shave my face but I paid extra because it's pink

Binghe: .....

Shen Yuan, petty: I also got some pants without pockets since that's what you're into

Binghe: ............. okay fine then. You leave me no choice

Binghe: 🥺

Shen Yuan dropping everything to hold him: oh poor baby... shizun shouldn't have teased you, I'll go get the bra and panties set right away

[fangdokja]

In his world, sugar babies don’t get to keep secrets.

❤︎ Synopsis. A sugar daddy arrangement spirals into a twisted nightmare as a calculating, sadistic man grows dangerously possessive. Luxury becomes a gilded cage, and love is warped by jealousy, manipulation, and obsession.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Sugar Daddy x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella #1. Bye, Bye, Bye - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 1,175

He thought he’d seen your kind before.

Perfectly poised, immaculately dressed, your smile as razor-sharp as the silk clinging to your frame. You were a prize, the sort of woman men would ruin themselves for without hesitation. Flawless. Immaculate. Just the right balance of allure and professionalism to make anyone believe you were untouchable.

But not him.

He’d learned to dissect people long before you entered his orbit, stripping away masks to reveal the mess beneath. And you? You didn’t flinch at the blinding edges of his wealth. When his black card secured your penthouse, you’d murmured a polite “thank you” and moved on as if indulgence and excess were owed to you. No awe. No greed. Just the perfect script of someone who understood this was a transaction and nothing more.

It should’ve bored him. Most women scrambled to please him, their hunger thinly veiled behind syrupy laughter and desperate touches. But you… You weren’t hungry. You were calculating. Silent and slippery, the kind of woman who stayed just out of reach. And that was why, from the moment he met you, he knew he would devour you.

At first, he watched from the sidelines, fascinated by the small glimpses you allowed him. A tilt of your chin, a carefully guarded smile, a glance over your shoulder that never lingered. You were an enigma wrapped in an elegant cage of self-control. But he didn’t miss the cracks.

The tension in your jaw when you thought he wasn’t looking. The way your fingers gripped your phone too tightly when you believed his gaze was elsewhere. Little tells that whispered of secrets you worked so hard to bury.

He let it slide—at first. Let you play your little game of distance and indifference, because he knew, eventually, he’d win. He always did.

But the moment he saw you with another man, everything changed.

It wasn’t difficult to follow you. His world was built on power, on knowing more than anyone ever wanted him to. When you told him you had plans with friends, he knew better. The restaurant was a quiet, forgettable corner of the city, dimly lit and far too intimate for what you claimed. He watched from the shadows as you leaned in close to your companion—a nervous, older man with trembling hands. The conversation was muffled by distance, but he didn’t need words to understand the exchange. The desperation in the man’s face, the predatory calm in yours—it was all he needed to see.

You were conning him.

That night, when you returned, his silence was suffocating. He was waiting in the living room, seated like a king presiding over his domain.

“How was your meeting?” he asked casually, though his voice carried a weight that made the air too thick to breathe.

You hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before answering. “Fine. Uneventful.” Your tone was steady, but the set of your shoulders betrayed you.

He didn’t respond, didn’t move, only watched as you retreated to your room. For now, he let you believe the conversation was over.

But in his mind, the game had just begun.

In the days that followed, his grip tightened. The gifts became more lavish—jewelry heavy enough to remind you who it came from, clothes that clung to you like a brand. He found excuses to monopolize your time, to ensure you were always within his reach. Subtle at first, then not. Every smile, every touch was calculated to remind you that you were his.

And yet, you kept lying. He saw it in the furtive glances, the way your fingers trembled when you thought he might notice. He followed you again and again, piecing together the threads of your double life.

You weren’t a sugar baby. Not really. You were a thief, a con artist, a woman playing a game so intricate it bordered on art. And yet, you had made one fatal mistake.

You’d underestimated him.

The confrontation came on a night drenched in rain and suffocating tension. You were meeting another mark—a younger man this time, naïve and eager to please. He watched from across the room as you worked your magic, the soft lilt of your voice weaving a web the poor fool didn’t stand a chance of escaping.

But tonight, he was done hiding.

He stepped into the room with the force of a storm. Your mark froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening in confusion and fear as he took in the man who loomed over the table.

“Who… Who are you?” the boy stammered.

But he didn’t bother answering. His eyes were on you, locked with yours in a battle of wills that neither of you could win. For the first time, he saw the mask slip, just a little. The perfect composure you’d worked so hard to maintain cracked, revealing something raw and fragile underneath.

Not fear. No, not yet.

But close.

“I think it’s time you left,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something sharp enough to draw blood. The boy didn’t need telling twice. He scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over the table in his haste to escape.

And then it was just the two of you.

The silence was deafening. You didn’t move, didn’t speak, your hands gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“You lied to me,” he said softly, almost conversationally. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

When you didn’t answer, he closed the distance between you in a single, deliberate step. His hand found your chin, his grip firm as he forced you to look up at him.

“It makes me think,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “that you’ve forgotten who you belong to.”

Your breath hitched, your composure crumbling under the weight of his words. And then he saw it—the flicker of defiance, the hate burning in your gaze despite the fear tightening your throat.

It was beautiful.

“You can fight me if you want,” he said, his smile dark and cruel as his fingers trailed down to your throat, a silent warning. “But you’ll never win. You’re mine, sugar baby. Mind, body, soul. Every last piece of you belongs to me.”

Deathly despise welled in your eyes, but you didn’t let it simmer for long. You met his gaze, trembling but unbroken, and for a moment, he thought you might spit in his face.

Instead, you whispered, your voice shaking with barely restrained rage, “I hate you.”

He smiled, the expression cold and victorious.

“I know.”

And that was exactly how he wanted it.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

““The girls are unable to say anything because they are always being policed. You can’t ask questions, you won’t get the evidence on a silver platter. But when you are going around, you hear things and see things,” Singh explains, sitting in a nondescript office, piles of cardboard files all over the floor, documenting the thousands of girls they have rescued over the years, approximately 4,000 at last count. 

“Most of the time the girls are locked up and they are only allowed out when a customer comes in. To ensure they are not interacting with the customers, the brothel keepers are always banging on the door and take away the mobiles of the customers.”

As a result of an 11-month long operation, conducted before the pandemic, Guria India were able to rescue 136 underage victims of traffickers, resulting in 61 brothels being shut down.”

In the narrow alleyways of Meerganj, the notorious red light district in the city of Allahbad, a man dressed in a brown kurta with a rucksack walks past the dilapidated brothels shouting ‘lipsticks for sale, good prices.’ 

He barely warrants a glance, one of dozens of street sellers who stroll down the alley daily, hawking their wares, a common sight in the hustle and bustle of cities in India.

Word has got around that he’s selling good quality products like Max Factor and other brands the brothel girls recognise from billboards featuring their favourite Bollywood actresses. He’s cheaper than the other sellers and lets them pay in instalments. 

A group of young girls flock to him, picking up bright lipsticks and face powders, to make them look older than they are, or perhaps not, depending on the client’s preferences.

But this is no ordinary seller. He is from Guria India, an organisation which rescues and rehabilitates women and underage girls trapped in the sex trade. 

He has been working undercover, disguised as a cosmetics seller, gathering evidence of victims of traffickers who have been forced into sex work, many of whom are underage and often thousands of miles away from home.

“You are working on a razor’s edge. There are no second chances. One wrong move and you could be killed. It’s not like a movie where you get a retake,” says Ajeet Singh, Director of Guria India.  

The nature of trafficking is changing and so activists are having to find new and innovative  means to take them on. 

Singh said he came up with the idea of posing as a make-up seller after he found that the brothel owners were always one step ahead of him. 

“It was always very difficult to rescue the girls because someone would leak the information and the brothel keepers would move the girls. The girls were not a priority for the system, so the police were not helpful. We had to be proactive in getting the evidence.”

Using rudimentary equipment he bought from Delhi, including spy cams concealed in a pen and button, he began scouring the streets of the red light district for almost a year. 

“Make-up is something very enticing for girls. If you go to India, you’ll see street sellers in every city so I knew I would blend in,” he said.

“The girls are unable to say anything because they are always being policed. You can’t ask questions, you won’t get the evidence on a silver platter. But when you are going around, you hear things and see things,” Singh explains, sitting in a nondescript office, piles of cardboard files all over the floor, documenting the thousands of girls they have rescued over the years, approximately 4,000 at last count. 

“Most of the time the girls are locked up and they are only allowed out when a customer comes in. To ensure they are not interacting with the customers, the brothel keepers are always banging on the door and take away the mobiles of the customers.”

As a result of an 11-month long operation, conducted before the pandemic, Guria India were able to rescue 136 underage victims of traffickers, resulting in 61 brothels being shut down. 

Social media ‘weapon of choice’ for traffickers

The sting, which was signed off by local people, used undercover filming to collect evidence against offenders. When enough had been gathered, ten members of the Guria India team joined police as they carried out dawn raids, using iron cutters to access properties where the victims were being held.

There are an estimated 1.2 million children under 18 working in brothels in India, many of whom have been victims of sex traffickers. Approximately 75 per cent of the cases Guria India dealt with involved under age victims ranging from just six months to 17.

The majority of these trafficked children are from lower castes and more than half of them are from families living below the poverty line.  

While many of the girls sold to brothels are trafficked by relatives or family friends, in recent years, social media, with its low-risk and high rewards, has become the weapon of choice of traffickers, luring victims in with lucrative job offers or promises of marriage. 

“The internet and exploitative romantic relationships are key factors for trafficking in recent times,” said children’s rights activist Bharti Ali.

“Often, the police don’t start their search in cases of adolescent girls immediately as they believe it to be a case of elopement. Many cases end up in girls being sold further by the boy/person they trusted or who promised them false marriage.

“When girls go missing, parents often try to search within their own community, her friends and relatives. This is when they lose critical time. When they suspect that she may have eloped, they may tend to not report at all to protect family honour … The girls too are unable to report as the traffickers keep a close watch on them.”

For victims of traffickers, their introduction into the world of prostitution is a brutal and violent one, in which they face beatings, gang rape and starvation. Some victims also reported having chilli powder placed on their genitalia and being subjected to electric shocks. 

Among the girls they have rescued is Sarita, who was just 12-years-old when she was sold to a sex trafficker by her older brother and was transported 700 km away to work in a brothel. 

“My mum was working in Mumbai and I lived with my sister. My brother was a drug addict. He told me he was taking me to see my mum but instead he sold me to a trafficker. I was locked in a room and beaten and raped by several men. I managed to find a phone and called my mum,” she said.

Sarita’s mother, along with the police and Guria India activists, were able to rescue her and relocate the family. However, the majority of victims are not so lucky. India remains a socially conservative society and victims of trafficking will often be ostracised by their families and community. 

Rescuing victims of trafficking is only half the battle, while keeping them out of the hands of traffickers presents another challenge. 

Rehabilitating victims back into a society which was already hostile to them in the first place is difficult and often the girls will end up falling back into the hands of traffickers. 

In one case, 57 girls who were rescued by Guria were sent to a shelter home in Agra for rehabilitation, but were re-trafficked by the superintendent of the centre. Just this week, the superintendent was acquitted by the Supreme Court and Guria India is currently fighting the decision. 

Despite the setbacks, Singh remains hopeful. “Although I don’t think we can eradicate child prostitution in my lifetime, I’m hopeful we can set the foundations to make the change,” he said.

And sometimes all it takes is a rucksack and a Max Factor lipstick. 

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 6 - Sex Work

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : For the "sex work" prompt of Kinktober 2024 I thought I'd mix it up with a request I received as well. Granted, it's playing on the words of the prompt rather than the actual theme but I hope you guys like it nonetheless ! ✨ Also, I did have a second idea, which I might end up doing too 😏

CW : Mention of sex work - Flirty texts - Mention of hook up

The studio was buzzing with energy as the podcast got underway. Marshall sat at the head of the table, wearing his usual hoodie and cap combo, arms crossed casually as he listened to the banter among the other rappers. One former D12 member had decided to launch a podcast and, when he was ask to be the first guest, he was happy to show up to support his friend. In the past years, he’d grown more and more picky when it came to doing interviews and appearances, but he was glad he did this, supporting his buddy and talking about hip-hop in general, instead of just him. It was much better than random journalists asking about his professional life. The conversation had flowed from the evolution of hip-hop to its biggest influencers, and now, they were moving into more contemporary topics—reviewing music videos from up-and-coming artists. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they cued up the next video for review. When the host dropped your name, though, his head perked up. You, the firecracker of a lyricist he had been « mentoring » for a while now. You weren’t to Shady Records, but you had worked together enough for him to respect your raw talent and commendable work ethic. He had been kind enough to offer some guidance and even some beats from his vault, and while you were still making your way in the industry, you had already built a reputation as an outspoken voice in the game. You had a good rapport, too. In private, you’d shared more than just a few laughs, and there was a mutual admiration that sometimes tiptoed into the realm of flirtation—compliments exchanged, gazes held a bit longer than necessary—but nothing too serious. It was always playful, a line neither of you had crossed. 

The host grinned, looking at Marshall. « So, this is Y/N’s latest track. It’s called ‘Sex Work’. You haven’t seen this one yet, have you? ».  He shook his head, a little curious but still cool. « Nah, she didn’t send it to me. ». His friend looked at him and let out a laugh. “You’re in for a surprise, then”.  The video started, and the beat dropped—a heavy bass line that immediately grabbed everyone’s attention. But it wasn’t just the music that made Marshall sit up a little straighter. The visuals hit hard. You were on-screen, dressed in bold, provocative outfits, your presence commanding the camera. The scenes shifted rapidly, moving through a series of sexually charged, daring shots. It was unlike anything you’d done before. 

You were playing with the very imagery that dominated so much of hip-hop—the kind of objectification women often faced. Except you were not the object here. She was the one in control, flipping the narrative. The lyrics hit just as hard as the visuals, each line razor-sharp, calling out the double standards in the industry, using clever wordplay ad metaphors that drew a parallel between the music industry and sex work, too. 

Marshall was caught off guard. The video was bold, even provocative. You were owning your sexuality in a way that was direct, unapologetic, and powerful. But then it hit him—some of the scenes were direct callbacks to his older videos. One shot mirrored the set of his “Superman” video, and in another, you were standing where one of his infamous adult actresses had stood, reclaiming that space. « Damn, » one of the other hosts on the podcast muttered, eyes wide. Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet. The lyrics kept going, and it became clear what you were doing—turning the tables on the misogynistic narratives you had been surrounded by as an up and coming female rapper. The video wasn’t just about sex appeal; it was a statement. You were deliberately playing with the same imagery that had been used to objectify women for decades, challenging it, and throwing it back in everyone’s faces. By the time the video ended, the room was dead silent for a moment. The host was the first to speak. « Marshall, man… what are you thinking? ».  He leaned back in his chair, taking a breath. He could feel the eyes on him, waiting for some kind of reaction, maybe even expecting. You weren’t playing by anyone’s rules and it was the type of attitude he respected, especially then someone pushed the pen that far.  « Well, first off, » he said, glancing around the room before locking eyes with the host, « she killed that ». The other guys laughed, but he wasn’t joking. « She’s always been fearless with her lyrics, » he continued, « but this? This is next level. She’s calling out the hypocrisy in the industry, and she’s doing it in a way that makes you pay attention. It’s bold as hell. » He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. « I didn’t expect her to take shots at some of the imagery I’ve used in my older videos, but I respect it. She’s making a statement. She’s an artist, it’s what she should be doing. It’s what we do as emcees, you know ?  ». The others nodded, clearly impressed with his take. « So you’re not bothered by it? I mean, some of those scenes were pretty close to your old stuff ». 

« Nah, » he said, shaking his head. « If anything, I think it’s cool. That’s the kind of artist she is—smart, sharp, and always saying something with her work. Whether it’s a track about life or, you know… this ». He chuckled a little at the end, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected you to pull something this bold. Sure, you had always been outspoken, always ready to challenge the norms, but this? This was next-level boldness.  The conversation moved on to other topics, but Marshall’s mind lingered on your video. He knew it was going to blow up and, truth be told, he was curious to know where that was headed. 

The days following the release of your music video and Marshall’s appearance on the podcast were a whirlwind of noise. Social media was ablaze with debates, and hip-hop blogs pumped out articles almost hourly, all focused on one central question: Was Y/N dissing Eminem ? Marshall, sitting in the comfort of his home, scrolled through his phone, shaking his head at the ridiculous headlines. « Y/N’s Bold Move: Diss or Power Play Against Eminem?" or  "New Queen in Town? Is Y/N Coming for Eminem’s Throne? ».  Everyone had their own theory, and the conversation was only growing louder. What had started as you making a critique of misogyny  had snowballed into a supposed rivalry between you and Em—a narrative the media had hungrily latched onto. It wasn’t surprising to anyone, though. Of course it was going to make for good headlines and farm engagement rates, even though it was a shame to have it take away from the main topic.  Interviews, radio shows, podcasts—everyone was asking the same question: What did Eminem think ? 

Marshall had been ignoring the noise for as long as he could, figuring people would see the bigger picture. But the hype refused to die down. Paul’s phone blew up with texts and calls, from journalists looking for comments to fellow artists wondering if there was any beef brewing. His team’s inbox was flooded. He wasn’t surprised that you were stirring things up—you were unapologetically yourself, always—but the whole “diss” angle? That was ridiculous. A week after the video dropped, Marshall finally caved. He knew he had to address it, especially after hearing that some major podcasts were going to dive deeper into the so-called "feud." There was no way he’d let anyone twist this into something it wasn’t. It was sort of unlike him, but he was pissed off about lies being spread and people making headlines about an imaginary feud. He wouldn’t have cared to address it if it had been anyone else, but he actually liked and respected you. He also had enough self-awareness to know that, if he let the whole thing escalate, some people would take « his side » and turn on you. Frankly, he didn’t have the time or energy for some stupid quid pro quo situation and he deemed it best to address the topic. 

That morning, he agreed to hop on a Shade45 radio show that had been asking him for a statement for days. As the interview started, the host wasted no time jumping into the topic. « Alright, Boss, we’ve got to get straight to it, » the host said, his voice filled with anticipation. « Y/N. We’ve all seen the video. She’s been pretty outspoken, and a lot of people are taking her comments about the double standards in hip-hop and the scenes from your old videos as… well, a diss. What do you think? ». Marshall took a deep breath and leaned forward into the mic, choosing his words carefully but keeping his usual bluntness. « Look, » he started, « Y/N is not dissing me. She’s not coming for me or trying to take shots.  What she’s doing is making a statement. A damn good one, too. People keep saying she’s going too far or whatever, but this is the same stuff that I, and a lot of other artists, have done for years. She’s just flipping the script, and now, suddenly, people want to act like it’s a problem ».  The host nodded, but there was still an edge of curiosity. « So, you’re not offended by her recreating some of your visuals? Some people took it as her calling you out ».  Marshall smirked, shaking his head. « Nah, man. Y/N’s one of the most talented artists out there right now. She’s smart. She’s sharp. And she’s not afraid to say what’s on her mind, even if it makes people uncomfortable. That’s what makes her great. She’s doing exactly what artists are supposed to do—make people think, make people talk. It’s the same shit I have always done with my music. And if she’s calling out hypocrisy ? Good for her. I’ve been there. I know how that goes ». 

He leaned back again, more comfortable now. « You know, I’ve worked with her, produced a couple of tracks for her, and I’ve always been impressed by how real she keeps it. She’s not here to play by anyone’s rules. She’s doing what she wants, and I respect that. If you’re mad at her for being direct, maybe it’s because you don’t like what she’s saying ». The host paused for a moment, letting Em’s words settle. « So, to be clear—you fully support what she’s doing? ». « Yeah, » Marshall said without hesitation. « Y/N’s just getting started, and if people are mad now? They better buckle up, ‘cause she’s only going to keep pushing boundaries. She’s not afraid to call out the industry for its hypocrisy. And if anyone thinks she’s dissing me, they’re missing the point. She’s making space for herself, and she’s doing it her way. That’s what being an artist is all about ». The host grinned, seemingly satisfied with his take. « Well, there you have it, folks. Marshall’s got nothing but respect for Y/N. » Marshall chuckled, nodding. « Damn right. I’ll say this though : I’ve spent enough time with her to know that it’s more fun to be her friend than to be her enemy. So, anyone who’s been talking shit… Better be ready ». 

After the podcast dropped, the noise around the supposed « diss » started to die down. Marshall’s words carried weight, and now that he had set the record straight, the media was forced to pivot. Instead of focusing on a non-existent feud, the conversation shifted toward what you had always intended—your critique of double standards. Now that people didn’t worry about a possible feud, they seemed more disposed to focus on the subject matter and the narrative surrounding you quickly took a much more positive turn.  That evening, Marshall was sitting in his home studio, tweaking some beats when his phone buzzed on the table next to him. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen.

Y/N :  Thanks for having my back.

He stared at the text for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. He wasn’t surprised you’d reached out; after all,  you weren’t the type to let things go unacknowledged. He liked that about you. But he could tell by the simple message that you appreciated the support more than you’d probably say out loud. He picked up his phone and tapped out a reply.

Marshall : Always. Not that you needed it, though. 

He fully meant it when he said that you didn’t need his support. He knew for a fact that you’d clap back if needed. There was a brief pause before your next message popped up.

Y/N : Yeah, but you saying it shuts up a lot of people. 

He chuckled to himself, nodding as he read the words.

Marshall :  Let ‘em talk. You’re doing your thing. If they’re mad, that means you’re doing something right. 

Y/N :  Guess I learned from the best.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, looking at your message for a second before typing a final reply.

Marshall : Nah, you’re making your own lane. Keep killing it.

He put his phone down, guessing the conversation was probably over for the night. But even as he turned back to the track he was working on, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride. You were carving out your own space in the industry, no matter how many people tried to twist her message or pit you against him. In the short while he’d known you, he had seen you evolve as an artist and, since you’d never failed to share how much his music had shaped your artistry, he felt proud. 

Y/N : Also, I’m glad that you got what I did with the references to your video. It was an hommage, not a shot. 

Marshall grinned, running his thumb over the screen as he typed his reply.

Marshall : Oh, I know. But now I’m thinking, if it was an hommage, why didn’t you just ask me to be in it ?

The dots on the screen danced for a moment, and then your reply came through, as sharp as your lyrics.

Y/N : I was only hiring professionals. ;)

Marshall laughed out loud, shaking his head. He liked your quick wit, the way you never backed down from a little back-and-forth. If anyone else had thrown that line at him, he might’ve let it go. But not you.

Marshall : You don’t think I’m professional enough?

Y/N : In music ? Sure. Can’t speak for the rest, though. 

There was a pause as he crafted his next response, his smirk growing wider. He enjoyed it too much, couldn’t help himself. 

Marshall : If you want to find out just how professional I can get, all you gotta do is ask.

He sent the message, leaning back on his chair. He could practically feel the heat of your flirtation building through the screen. You didn’t take long to reply, as bold as ever.

Y/N : Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.

There was no more texting that night, but the tension lingered in the silence that followed. Your dynamic had always teetered on the edge of something more, something neither of them had fully explored. Both of you had always kept it on the safe side. The energy between them you felt charged in a way it hadn’t before, following these texts and he liked it. There was something irresistible about a beautiful woman who was also smart and bold. However, he chose not to let it get to his head, not wanting to be that guy. Being a woman in a male-dominated industry, you probably had enough of those, even though he wouldn’t mind showing you the extent of his bedroom skills. He meant it, though. All you had to do was ask. He had made a point to avoid getting involved with celebs and fellow artists but he’d gladly make an exception for you.

Weeks later, the two of you found yourself in New York for an awards show. The ceremony was everything you’d expect—long, loud, and full of celebrities. But Marshall wasn’t really focused on the stage. He hadn’t seen you yet, but he knew you were there. He’d heard your name more than once as people in the crowd gushed about you, your bold video, and the statement you’d made in the industry. Your viral video had made you gain tons of recognition and everyone was gushing about you, even the ones who had been quick to assume you were dissing him in a desperate clout-chasing attempt. After the show, as he headed back to his hotel room, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Y/N :  Nice performance tonight. Very professional. The Bradford. Suite 1602. If your offer still stands.

Marshall stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the message. The directness of it sent a jolt through him. There wasn’t any question about what you were implying. The words lingered on his screen, bold and unflinching, just like you. For a moment, he just stood there, processing. Then, without a second thought, he found himself heading toward the exit of his hotel. There was no hesitation now. His heart picked up speed as he walked out into the night, flagged down a cab, and gave the driver the name of your hotel, not too far from his. The drive was short, but each second felt drawn out, like anticipation was pulling time apart. As the cab pulled up in front of The Bradford, Marshall stepped out, the city lights glowing faintly around him. He walked through the doors and headed straight to the elevator, heart pounding just a little harder with each passing floor. When he reached your floor, the quiet of the hallway contrasted sharply with the rush of energy coursing through him. He stopped in front of Suite 1602, staring at the number on the door for a moment before knocking, his mind running through the million ways this could go. The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing barefoot in a simple yet alluring outfit that somehow made his pulse race faster than anything you’d worn in that music video. Your eyes met his with the same fire he’d always admired, but now, it was mixed with something more, something unspoken between the two of you that had finally found its moment. « Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up, » you said, your voice low but teasing. Marshall smirked, stepping inside. « Told you all you had to do was ask ». You grinned back, eyes glinting as you shut the door behind him. « Well, I am asking ». 

If you liked this and want to support a struggling student, you can buy me a cup of coffee. ☕️

[a-b-riddle]

tw: bondage. Body hair removal. A bit of torture? (imo it would be) teasing. This is just… idk. Weird. Just a blurb about ingrown hair and how Price would handle it.

Price told you when you first got together how he liked his women groomed. He didn’t shy away from it. The man knew what he liked 🤷🏼‍♀️

And that was some hair down there. Be it a bit of scruff or a full bush, he liked his women to have hair.

“Need something to keep that pussy warm while I’m away.” He once joked.

But you had thought it was just that.

A joke.

At least it was until you had shaved everything — and I do mean everything— to be a bit spontaneous and boy were you regretting it now.

John had refused to eat your pussy. At first you thought he was being a right prick refusing you until you felt the scratch of his beard against your very sensitive cunt. You practically pulled him up by his ears while he met you with a cocky “I told you so” look on his face.

You didn’t even like being bare down there, but his smug ass smirk had riled you up. You had insisted on keeping yourself shaved, making John’s eyebrow raise in a challenge. He had warned you what would happen if he wasn’t able to get his mouth on you.

Shame you didn’t listen.

Ingrown hairs and obvious irritation made you feel absolutely disgusting. It was perfectly normal, but the constant scratching like you were trying to relieve an itch from a veenirial infection wasn’t exactly… sexy.

You had passed through it. Making a vow to never do it again….

Until you did.

And John had warned you.

Which was why on the second day after shaving, he had tied you to the bed. You had prepared yourself for a proper fucking only to feel that tickle begin to spread the moment he secured the final cuff.

You didn’t know what a devious fucked you had married. Only John Price would refrain from eating your pussy (his favorite past time) in order to prove a point.

You were nearly in tears after thirty minutes of having the irritation flare up and nothing you could do to relieve it. To make matters worse, John was barely a few inches from your soaked cunt.

“Would love to get my mouth on you, but I don’t wanna hurt you like last time.”

“You won’t,” you promised. Pulling at the restraints. Angling your hips upwards to get closer to him.

“Warned you what would happen if you bothered your pussy again. No need to shave it down. I can see her juuuuust fine.” He teased.

“John, please.” Tears had began to spill from your eyes at this point. Not sure whether from the sexual frustration or the torment of not being able to relief the other ache from between your thighs.

“Promise me you won’t take a bloody razor to this pretty little cunt.” He practically growled, his breath hot against you. In that moment you would have never picked up a razor to shave any part of you if he had asked.

When he was finally satisfied with your pleading, he released you. Telling you when she’s a bit more covered and could handle it, he’ll have you sitting on his face. But for now there was a brand new exfoliation glove in the bathroom that he read would help.

You practically bolted out of the bed. No longer caring about coming six ways to Sunday. You had an itch that you definitely didn’t want John to scratch.