#i like the idea of being able to change the colors for the makeup but it will probably also make the game files bigger

[gifti3]

I like some of the makeup changes theyve done in time princess but some of them unfortunately do look worse (on my doll anyways)

Dress up games seem to struggle with making makeup work for all skin tones and the only solution ive seen is in life makeover where we have the option to change parts of the makeups color and brightness (and even then the options are too limited imo)

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: i said i wouldn’t do requests atm but this was requested by a very dear reader on wattpad and i just couldn’t say no 🙂‍↕️

summary: based on the song by bruno mars; masc rich lawyer!reader, bartender!natasha. nat has blonde hair here (no idea how important that detail really is tbh)

warnings: smut…(a bunch of it, actually — strap usage, fingering, oral (n receiving)), alcohol/being drunk; i think that’s it?

word count: 8.2k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— LOS ANGELES, USA —

Exiting your car that night, you don't expect that, not too long later, you'll have her in your passenger seat. Like your own personal Cinderella, she'll be with you once the clock strikes midnight.

However, your evening doesn't start as fairytale-like as it'll end.

It's been a shitty day. A brutal case you'd been working on for months. As almost always, it entailed dealing with insufferable clients and their enormous egos, biased judges and ruthless opponents, 80-hour weeks and tons of stress — only to lose the case.

It was humiliating, leaving the court room. You'd trailed to your car like a wet dog and sat there, forehead on your steering wheel, for a solid five minutes. Only when you realized that the press was starting to surround your car, you'd pressed the start button and torn down the street.

Let's pretend you didn't hit a trash can on your way out. Maybe that'll make your day look less like a shitshow.

Being the child of two of Hollywood's most successful lawyers, everyone's eyes are on you. News articles, social media backlash, professional rivals that revel in your failure. You can't afford even a single misstep. Yes, in your case, even a lost case is a misstep. It's just more proof, they'll say. That you're only here because mommy and daddy funneled millions into your trust fund before you even turned 18.

You rarely frequent bars, since there never seems to be enough time for that. It's why you usually keep a bottle of whiskey in your office (telling yourself that's completely normal) — but tonight, you don't want to get drunk sitting in silence. Too many thoughts, too many worries. Instead, you pull up in front of LA's most famous bar.

Hollywood elites, business moguls, and the ultra-wealthy. Expensive champagne flows like water, its coloration matching the golden hues of the bars interior. You step inside and, for once, only feel mildly out of place.

You walk across marble floors and approach the bar. Sitting down, you undo the top button of your shirt and watch the woman in front of you turn around.

A bartender, but possibly the most gorgeous one you've ever seen. Blonde hair and a red dress, makeup so flawless you'd never be able to tell she's been working for over six hours now. If you weren't still pissed off about that stupid case, you'd be able to appreciate the sight a lot more, though.

You lean in and almost order a whiskey. But you have that in your office, so you change your mind.

"Just a martini", you mumble, already reaching for your purse. "Stirred."

She studies you with interest, not saying a word. The memory flits through her head — you, in this bar, two years ago. Middle length hair, slicked back, and a suit. Passed out in the corner. You have no idea this happened, as you were completely out of it, but she remembers.

"No 'hello'? 'Good evening'? What's the magic word again?"

You look up and stare at her, your Black Card between your fingers. "Sorry?"

She shrugs and reaches for the mixing glass. Ice clinks, the gin swirling like liquid silver under the bar's lights as she stirs.

"Maybe my expectations are too high", she says and pours the vermouth. "I should be used to people like you."

You raise your eyebrows, your jaw slackening slightly. "People like me?"

"Exactly. Let me tell you something, hotshot", she says, leaning over the bar. "Have you seen who enters this place? Rich people. Snobby people. The upper one percent. You sat your cute little ass down and muttered your order like you're being forced to sit here."

"Well", you say, struggling to find an excuse for your lack of manners, "I had a shitty day, okay? All I want is a few drinks."

"Not too many", she says, finally straining the liquid into the glass. She plucks an olive from its jar and rolls it between her fingers, her eyes on yours, before dropping it into the drink. "You don't hold your liquors too well, do you?"

"What?"

"Not important."

You accept the martini and take a tentative sip. You study her like she studied you, but with an air of irritation. Your day's been miserable enough already. No need for her to pile on.

"Listen", you say, "I'm not really in the mood to talk. I know you bartenders like to play shrink-"

"I prefer the word therapist, but go on."

"But", you say sharply, shooting her a halfhearted glare, "I had a bad day. A really, really bad day. You probably can't even imagine. So just let it go, alright?"

"Understood", she says. Her green eyes, however, twinkle with the kind of mirth that tells you she definitely will not let it go.

Can someone drive you up the wall but also be annoyingly attractive? Apparently. You're experiencing it in that very moment.

The silence lasts exactly two minutes. It's enough time for the bartender to prepare a Bloody Mary and hand it to a different customer, then she turns toward you again. You groan and let your head fall onto the counter of the bar.

"Ouch", you mutter.

"You're like a child", she states. "A petulant little child who didn't get their way. What happened, hotshot?"

"Leave me alone", you mumble, your breath fogging up the smooth surface of the countertop.

"It can't be that bad." She leans in, arms crossed on the counter, and lowers her head so her face is right in front of yours. You dare look at her and immediately regret it. The green in her eyes is sage with specks of seafoam, mint and apple, unfairly captivating.

Then, her breath hits your lips. Sweet and warm, with an undercurrent of mint.

Before you can imagine her bent over the counter in a very different situation, you quickly close your eyes and press your face against the countertop.

"Let me guess", she says, seemingly oblivious to your internal struggle, "you lost a deal? No, not that. Maybe your shoes don't match your suit? No? Fine. Oh, I got it. Someone had the audacity to say no to you today."

"Truly, fuck you."

"That's a bold thing to say to the woman making your drinks, darling."

You groan and sit up, strands of messy hair blocking your vision. She smirks and brushes them aside.

"This", you say, narrowing your eyes, "is why I don't go to bars."

"Oh, please." She tilts her head. "Me? Harmless."

"Harmless, but annoying. Like a damn housefly."

"How sweet", she says drily. "You know your way around women, huh?"

You give her a deadpan look. She has no clue (or maybe she does — whatever), but you haven't been involved with anyone in over a year now. That is, if you don't count hookups and one night stands and such.

Flirting is also not your strongest suit, but it is hers. You just haven't realized it yet.

"I'm a busy woman", you say. "The only women I see are clients and coworkers."

"Clients, as in...?"

"No." You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed. "I'm a lawyer, not a hooker."

"A lawyer?" She smiles and tilts her head. "Wow. That's exciting."

Sarcasm, obviously. You roll your eyes and lean back a little. Good thing the barstool has a backrest, otherwise you'd be on the floor by now.

"Come on. All you do is pour booze into glasses and poke olives with toothpicks."

"Don't forget pouring water into ice cube trays."

She chuckles when you roll your eyes again. Leaning over the counter, she brushes her fingertips against the collar of your shirt.

Your cheeks heat up. She notices the rosy flush in your face and tilts her head, giving a soft hum.

"So, a lawyer", she says. "A lawyer who had a shitty day."

"Precisely."

"A lawyer who definitely isn't a hooker, either. So asking about the price per hour would be pointless."

You pause before exhaling sharply, dragging a hand down your face — exhausted, annoyed, still half-thinking about your case. But then her words settle, her meaning really sinking in, and despite everything, your lips twitch.

You open your mouth, then close it again. Finally, you lift your glass and down your martini. She laughs quietly.

"I'm Natasha", she says. "And it's a pleasure to meet you, hotshot."

"Y/N", you say, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. "Sorry. I'm tired and ready for bed."

"Me too", she says. She slides the empty glass from your fingers and puts it aside. "I assume you meant something else, though."

You let out a laugh and lean back, hands covering your face. You lower them and smile faintly, eyes running up and down her body. The bar covers everything up to her waist, but that doesn't matter. She's beautiful, and so is the dress she's wearing, and the irritation you felt earlier has shifted into something entirely different.

You're not sure whether there's some kind of rule about this — are bartenders allowed to flirt with customers? —, but, truthfully, you don't care. How long has it been since you felt this kind of attraction toward someone? How long has it been since someone flirted with you and you actually felt the urge to flirt back?

It hasn't been years, but it's been more than a while.

You sit there in silence, eyes still locked on Natasha. She leans over the counter and adjusts the collar of your shirt again. Skin peeks through the unbuttoned buttons at the top, her gaze lingering on it for a brief moment.

"Your shift", you say, watching her pull away. "When's it end?"

She glances at her watch. Midnight. "About two hours. Why? Planning to wait up for me?"

"Maybe" You hum, fingers drumming against the countertop. "You could leave early", you then suggest, tentatively, as if expecting her to say no.

But Natasha glances at the other bartender. Her hands move to untie the apron she's wearing, which she tucks under the bar, then she tells her coworker to cover for her. You can see her hesitate, scanning the space, before she walks around the counter to get to your side.

Before you realize what's happening, you're leading her out of the bar. The air is warm outside, but not suffocating anymore. You feel the light breeze — crisper, fresher, thanks to Beverly Hills being closer to the ocean — and breathe in. No overwhelming variety of perfumes and colognes. All you smell is the faint scent of whatever perfume Natasha is wearing.

You lead her to your car. She pauses when she sees the cracked headlight.

"Hit a trash can", you say before she can ask.

"I see." She glances at you, smiling. "I truly hope you won't get me into a car crash tonight, hotshot."

You crack a smile and sigh, running your fingers through your hair. She laughs and squeezes your arm, then moves to sit in the passenger seat.

You spend your first night together.

When you wake up to the sight of her, hair mussed and naked body wrapped up in thin bedsheets, you know there will be more moments like this.

. . .

— NEW YORK, USA —

Two months and a few meetups (dates? hookups?) later, you fly her out to Manhattan.

It was your idea. You'd gotten sick of having to travel to LA all the time, only to leave again days later. Your main residence is in New York, after all, not California. It's where your condo is, your law firm, where you spend a majority of your time.

Natasha agreed without having to reconsider. You didn't even have to mention it'd be one of your private jets, or that your chauffeur Richard would drive her to your place. She had no clue she'd be sipping champagne and testing caviar during the entire flight, and she said yes anyway.

She knows you have money. She knows you'll spoil her. She doesn't expect it, either. It does happen, though, and she does enjoy it a lot.

There's something special about being able to kick off her heels and stretch out on plush leather seats, letting the staff pamper her. With face masks from South Korea and fresh fruit straight from Thailand, the five hours she spends aloft suddenly seem almost too short.

Richard drives Natasha to the condominium you live in. Billionaires' Row is full of luxury buildings, but yours manages to stand out anyway. High ceilings, floor to ceiling windows, a grand porte-cochère. She spots Rolls Royces and Bentleys being parked by valets in pressed suits and subtly raises her eyebrows. It's starting to get out of hand.

In front of the elevator, she's handed a keycard. Richard instructs her how to use it, then she's on her own.

It takes her all the way upstairs into your penthouse, the elevator bypassing every other floor. Then it stops, the doors swish open, and she's in your condo. In your living room, to be more specific.

A fireplace, a stocked bar (top-shelf liquors, because why not), a glass coffee table. The sectional couch in front of her looks like it costs more than a standard car, too. She glances at the dark marble floor beneath her feet — probably from Italy — and takes a few steps into the condo. As soon as she's stepped out of the elevator, the door closes automatically.

Natasha knew you were rich, but goddamn, this is a lot to take in.

She takes another few steps into the living room and listens for any kind of noise. Unsurprisingly, she can't hear anything. The walls are most likely soundproof, so she won't be able to hear you unless she's in the same room.

Walking closer to the fireplace, she finds a note on it. A normal piece of paper, thankfully, not some expensive textured shit. She reads what you wrote and smiles faintly.

Natasha,

I'm in my office to work on a new case. Sorry I wasn't there to personally pick you up. Will make up for it later, I promise.

Lunch is in the fridge. Make yourself at home. I insist.

— Hotshot :)

Once she realizes she's smiling, she quickly shakes her head and puts the note aside.

Make herself at home? No need to tell her twice.

High heels in one hand, she pads through the long hallway and into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances, a huge espresso machine she'll definitely play around with at some time, sleek kitchen furniture. A peek into the fridge tells her you — or your private chef, more likely — made paella. She closes it again and walks into the adjacent dining room.

Some plants that look like small palm trees, a long table for at least 16 people, a New Zealand wool rug.

Boring.

Back to the hallway she goes, the heated floors warm under her bare feet. Up the stairs, then back down, hand sliding over the glass railings. Two bathrooms, both with rain showers, a small wine cellar-like room, a huge balcony with a view of Central Park. Somehow, she ends up on the rooftop (and definitely makes sure to remember the pool there) before finally making her way back inside.

Your bedroom is next, complete with an en-suite bathroom and walk-in closet. She's seen the other bathrooms already and was, quite frankly, not impressed enough to look at this one as well. Instead, she decides to check out what kind of clothes you wear.

Natasha spins around in the massive space and scans everything. A minibar, a huge mirror, a seating area. It smells like fresh linen and that very same perfume you were wearing when you first took her home not too long ago.

Two months, she recalls. It's only been two months, and you're already whisking her away whenever you want.

She drags her hand along one of the black walnut shelves, inspecting handmade leather shoes and rows of accessories. Ties, watches, rings. She stops and eyes the tailored suits. Her hand moves to the back of her dress, fumbling with the zipper and pulling it down, then she lets the thin piece of fabric fall to the polished floor.

She steps out of the dress that's pooled around her feet and reaches for a crisp button-down. She puts it on and inspects herself in front of the mirror, then grabs some niche Parisian perfume from your fragrance collection. A spritz behind her ear, one on her wrist...

"Having fun?"

Natasha whips around and stares at you. You're leaning against the doorframe, trying to hide your smile. Despite being at home, where you should be comfortable enough to let loose for a little, you're in a suit. Your hair, however, is messy. A strand partially blocks your vision.

It took you ten minutes to find her. You didn't expect to walk in on her half-naked, barefoot, only wearing one of your shirts. Are you complaining, though? Absolutely not.

"You told me to make myself at home."

"So you did."

"Exactly."

"That's good." You push off the doorframe and stroll into the room. "Not gonna say hi?"

She meets you halfway, her arms coming up to wrap around your neck. Lips brush against yours, a fleeting contact, and your hands rub her waist. "Hi", she mumbles.

"Hey", you whisper, kissing her. First quickly, then a little more deeply. Your hands run up her sides, letting her shirt ride up, and you feel smooth warm skin under your palms. You pull away only to trail kisses along her jaw. "Missed you. How long have you been here?"

Natasha closes her eyes, her fingers raking through your short hair. "About an hour. Lonely?"

"It's a big apartment."

"Penthouse."

"Whatever", you mutter, catching her mouth again. Your thumbs hook into the waistband of her underwear and play with the lace. "Did you have lunch? The paella — I had it made for you."

"I wasn't hungry", she says, speaking in between kisses. "They served all kinds of stuff on my flight. First time trying mangosteen."

"Mhm, my favorite." You squeeze her waist before letting go of her. Walking further into the room, you pick up her dress from the floor and toss it over your shoulder. Her scent hits you, faint and sweet and familiar already. "Listen, I got another meeting in about an hour. Shouldn't take too long, though. You good here or should I ask Richie to give you the tour? He'll take you anywhere as long as it's not somewhere up in the clouds. Poor dude's got a fear of heights."

Natasha lingers where you left her, arms crossed over her chest. She watches you adjust things she never would've noticed are different: pushing the perfume bottle backwards the tiniest bit so it's perfectly aligned with the others, running your hand over the stack of button-ups to remove a crease she wouldn't be able to spot with a magnifying glass, nudging one of the shoes she touched.

"No", she says absently. "I'd rather stay here and wait."

"Whatever you want." You turn around and walk back to her. You wrap your arm around her waist and lead her out of the walk-in closet, faces inches apart, a smile on your lips. "I'd show you around, but I feel like that's pointless."

Natasha rolls her eyes and laughs, tugging at your shirt. You feel her lips against yours, the touch brief but charged with electricity. "You told me to make myself at home, so I did. Can't blame me for that."

"Not blaming you. Just happy you felt comfy enough to rummage through my clothes."

"I didn't 'rummage' through them."

"Oh no?" You grab the hem of the button-up she's sporting and smirk. "What's that, then?"

She doesn't say anything. Instead, she cups your face and pulls you into a deep kiss.

It's the first time in over three years that you cancel a meeting.

. . .

The rug you're on is soft and fluffy, the fireplace next to you way too hot for a September morning.

Sleep-warm skin and cashmere blankets, a half-empty bottle of wine left next to the coffee table. Natasha wakes, blinking lazily, and stretches her arms. You turn just enough to be able to kiss her forehead.

"Morning", you mumble.

"Morning", she replies, hands moving to your chest. Fingertips dance over bare skin, then she starts buttoning up your shirt. "We slept in."

"Yeah", you say, still tired, and lay back down. "Fuck. I have so much work to do."

"No, you have me to do."

"Obviously. Top priority."

Her hands splay out on your chest and smooth out the fabric of your shirt. She leans in, plush lips on your jaw, kisses that are warm and a little too arousing. It's 9 in the morning, and you need to get your ass off the floor and into the office.

However, there is a pretty, naked lady next to you, and that is much more enticing than a desk chair and a meeting with a bunch of old people. And her mouth is all over your skin, her hands starting to roam your body, and fuck it, maybe you can cancel again. Just one more time.

"Dammit", you curse, nails raking down her back. "You're costing me a shit-ton of money, baby."

"You have enough money as it is", she mumbles, voice muffled against your neck. Your arms wind around her. "There's only one woman in your arms, though. Your choice."

You hum, nose buried in her messy hair. Her kisses against your neck start to become wetter, more urgent, her hands squeezing and squishing every part of you she can reach. You moan and she knows she's convinced you.

You hastily take off your shirt and push all the blankets aside, then hold her close before rolling over. You're on top now, where you want to be, and start trailing hickeys along her throat. Her fingers run through your unruly hair and mess it up further.

Palms squeeze and run over smooth skin. Your hand kneads her thigh before moving between her legs. Wet heat against, then around, your fingers. You thrust in and out slowly, rhythmically, and listen to the way her breathing gets heavier.

Face buried in the crook of her neck, you leave lazy kisses on her skin. Slender fingers tug at your hair, insistently, telling you to go faster.

The fire next to you crackles, but it's nowhere near as hot as the space between you. Heavy breathing and muffled moans, fingers curling and nudging deeper. Your thumb circles her clit and you hear a little whine. Natasha comes around your fingers, clenching and unclenching, and you bite back your own moans.

"Shit", she mumbles, slumping into the rug again.

"Yeah." You lift your fingers to your mouth and quickly lick them clean. "I still got work."

"Breakfast first?"

A knock on the doorframe makes you both whirl around. Your eyes land on your private chef slash maid, who's got her eyes covered with her hand. You can see the timid look on her face, anyway.

"Sorry", she says. "I waited until you were...done. I made breakfast and didn't want to disturb you, Ms. Y/L/N. Also, Mr. Pasini is waiting for you."

"Linda", you say, grabbing a blanket and covering both you and Natasha with it. You're so aghast you don't even know what to say. "That's, uhm- that's good. Give us a minute? Please?"

She nods, stepping away and bumping into a potted plant.

"Of course. My apologies, Ma'am. I'll be in the kitchen."

The second she's gone, Natasha starts laughing. You narrow your eyes at her, but the smile on her face is too infectious to not crack one as well. You sigh and melt into her. A kiss is placed on her cheek.

"Alright, laugh it up."

She smirks and jabs a finger into your side. "Come on, that was hilarious. Does she usually stalk you like some creep?"

"No", you say firmly, sitting up and putting on your shirt. Your fingers tremble slightly as you button it up. "She doesn't. And she didn't 'stalk us', she just heard we were finished and came to inform me about breakfast."

"Sounds believable enough, hotshot. You're sure she doesn't have a secret crush on you?"

"She's 58 and married, dummy." You get up and look for your underwear. "I promise, she's just a sweet lady who helps my blood sugar spike. Try her madeleines, they're godly."

Natasha hums and gets up, still butt naked. She grabs her lace panties and the shirt she stole from you the night before and puts both on. You, one leg in your slacks and the other hovering in the air, watch her with wide eyes as she makes a beeline for the kitchen.

"Wait-"

"Breakfast", she says, unbothered, and adjusts her hair a little. "Hurry your pretty little ass up or all the madeleines will be gone."

The exaggerated French accent she used to pronounce the pastry makes you roll your eyes. You hurry to get into your pants before following after her, zipping up and fastening the button.

"You're naked!"

"Anything that could be considered inappropriate is covered."

"I can see your butt."

She glances at you over her shoulder, strolling into the kitchen. Linda glances at her, but doesn't seem too surprised by the sight. Instead, she plates breakfast for you. Avocado on sourdough toast, freshly squeezed juice, Eggs Benedict, buttery madeleines, some cappuccino.

As soon as she's done, she tells you to enjoy your meal. You catch the small smile on her face as she leaves the room to go on about her duties.

"You were right", Natasha says, sitting on a chair with her foot propped up on the seat. "These are godly."

"Told you", you say absently, scrolling through your work-related emails. "The best. Dip them in the cappuccino."

She hums, eating in silence and watching you respond to emails and texts. Her leg stretches out under the table to bump against yours. Then, she rests it in your lap. You squeeze her calf, eyes locked on your phone.

"Hey", you mumble, sliding your hand further down her leg and tapping her ankle, "how would you feel about a slight change of plans?"

"Hm?" Natasha tilts her head, a half-finished glass of orange juice in her hand.

You turn around and show her the email. She leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, and reads it.

"I said we'd spend the next two weeks here, but I gotta go to Tokyo. Work-stuff. Want to tag along?"

"Tokyo?" She looks up. "Just like that?"

"Yeah. Like I said, work-stuff."

She smiles faintly, then shrugs. "Sure. Why not."

"Great."

"All of this is normal, right?"

"What?"

"Forget it, hotshot." She gets up and kisses your temple. "See you in a minute. I have to try that rain shower before we leave."

The urge to get up and follow her like a lovesick puppy is strong. But then your phone buzzes, announcing another email, and you sigh as you realize you'll have to wait a bit longer.

. . .

— TOKYO, JAPAN —

You order the sushi in near-perfect Japanese.

Natasha leans into your side. Clad in the off-shoulder black dress with the deep neckline that you got her right after your arrival, she's been turning heads all night long. Her fingers toy with the shimmering necklace you put on her, oblivious to the 18k white gold's worth, and her eyes roam the restaurant's interior.

"Fancy", she whispers once the server has dashed off. "I wanted to come here for a while."

"This restaurant? I've been here a couple times."

"No, dummy. Japan. Tokyo." She smiles and looks at you. You flush under her gaze and nudge her cheek with your nose. Her hand cups your cheek, thumb against your lips, and you press a kiss to it. "You need to get out of your bubble more, you know."

"What bubble?"

"This bubble. Not every experience has a Michelin star, or costs a couple thousand bucks. There's more to life than just fancy dinners, hotshot."

You hum, studying here. There's a truth to her words that stings. You're privileged, and you know it, but your lifestyle and career make everything about you and everything you do so different. The way you live traps you in a bubble you either can't or won't escape, which limits the things you experience.

Natasha is the best example for that. You may have been lucky enough to run into her, sure, but only because of a coincidence. Again, you don't go to bars. You don't go out with friends, or even colleagues. You spend your Friday nights sitting at your desk with a dozen files opened on your laptop. Maybe you'll drink some whiskey or fall asleep ten minutes into a movie, too, but that's about it.

"You'd rather I take you to McDonald's tomorrow?", you ask, trying to deflect. She tilts her head. "Okay, okay. Not a fan of the clown. Got it."

"You know what I mean", she says, hooking a finger into the collar of your shirt. "Saving up for another car, or jet, won't make you happy."

"I know", you say earnestly. "It's why I got you. To spend that money on you instead. Now — sake or umeshu?"

"Oh, no. Wait. Did you just-"

"I'll spoil you rotten", you say, quickly pecking her lips, "and get happy in return. You make me happy. Now tell me what drink you want."

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't argue. It's not like she doesn't like the whole princess treatment you've been giving her ever since your first night together, after all. She enjoys it maybe even too much.

You enjoy it, too. Before her, all you knew was work and lonely beds. Pleasure mostly came from meaningless one night stands, never lasting longer than a couple hours, or — a classic — your own hand.

It's different now. You get to satisfy someone else, someone who's interested in you, who makes you smile, who's pretty. You can spoil her all you want. Dresses, champagne, jewelry, spontaneous trips to the most gorgeous places on earth. In return, she makes you happy. There's not even much she has to do to achieve that. You appreciate it a whole lot, anyway.

Her breath fans your ear, lips tickling your skin. You exhale sharply, silently, and close your eyes.

"Sake, please", she mumbles, voice sultry and soft. Her hand runs down your front, deliberately brushing against the buttons of your shirt, before coming to rest on your thigh. "And you. Sake and you."

. . .

Being in another country usually means vacation.

Not for you, though. You've been stuck behind your desk for over an hour now. Keyboards clack, the a/c hums, bedsheets rustle. In front of you are floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying Tokyo's skyline. Thousands of lights in every color imaginable adorn tall buildings, creating a sea of neon. Billboards and pulsing nights, and streets that never seem to sleep.

You're not sleeping, either. And neither is Natasha. While you're tapping a pen against your knee before responding to an email, she keeps rolling over in bed and trying to fight boredom.

You briefly glance at her. Only in a silk robe that hugs her curves and leaves little to the imagination, it's getting increasingly harder to not just call it a day and join her.

You turn to your laptop again and bite back a sigh. Another email popped up, this time by one of your employees, so you click the reply symbol and start typing. Right as you hit send, you feel a familiar pair of hands on your shoulders. You close your eyes when her palms slide down to your chest.

"Hey", she murmurs, warmth breath fanning your ear. Her lips press against your nape, then the side of your neck. "Still working?"

"It won't end. I just keep getting new emails."

She hums, continuing to trail hot kisses along your neck. Her fingers fumble with the buttons on your shirt, slowly undoing them. "You need to relax a little, you know. Forget about work and come to bed with me."

"Emails", you protest. Natasha smiles against your neck. Her hands move down to yours on the keyboard, gently peeling them off. "I need to finish this. It's important. Seriously."

No response. Heat shoots into your lower belly when she sucks on your pulse point. She runs her hands up your arms and to your biceps, squeezing the muscles there, then she slides the shirt off your shoulders. Fingers dance across your skin, trace your chest and your stomach, before teasing the waistband of your pants.

"I want you to fuck me", she rasps into your ear. "Show me I'm important, too."

Of course she's important. More important than the emails, more important than anything else. Can you say it, though?

No. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a quiet whine. You hear the laptop in front of you being shut. Natasha pulls at the back of your chair and swivels it around, your eyes opening automatically.

The sight is godly. She's standing between your legs, her robe thin and enveloping her body like a second layer of skin. You catch a glimpse of the bra she's wearing, black lace showing through the open top of the robe, and your fingers twitch with the desire to touch her.

You cave. Fingers find the end of the silk sash around her waist to give it a deliberate tug. The robe comes open and reveals creamy skin and black lingerie.

"When did you..."

"You left your credit card when you went downstairs to pick up those files", she says, fingers trailing along your jaw. Her hand cups your jaw. "Thought it'd be a nice surprise."

"Credit card fraud", you say, both amused and turned on. "Theft, too. Dammit."

"You like it, though."

Oh, you do. You can't even be mad. There's more than enough money on your bank account, and truthfully, purchases like this one benefit you both.

You put your hands on her waist and get up. Her body is flush with yours, her breath fanning your lips. You kiss her, tasting strawberries and sake, and trace the seam of her lips with your tongue. Her mouth opens, letting you deepen the kiss, and you swallow her moans.

Bodies up against the window, the heat between you fogging up the glass. Natasha's robe falls to the floor, and you start trailing kisses over her shoulder and chest. You pull away for a split second to drink her in. With the backdrop of the city's lights — bright and flickering and reflecting off her skin — you're once again proven that she's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

The clasp of her bra comes undone easily. You push the straps off her shoulders, let the tiny piece of clothing slide off, then your mouth is attached to her body again. Hands squeeze and grope her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples, before running down her sides.

You hear a soft thud when her head falls back against the window. Breathy moans and mhh-sounds, nimble fingers raking through your hair. You lick a stripe over her breast and suck her nipple between your lips. Pushing aside the fabric of her panties, you find her cunt. Her pussy is soaked, your fingers sliding in with ease.

"Fuck", she moans, tugging at your hair. "Baby, slow down."

You look up, not able to speak through the mouthful of boob. She looks down at you, panting, and brushes some hair away from your forehead.

You don't want to slow down. Not now, not when she's looking at you like this, still wearing the panties she bought with your money, standing in the suite you payed for. She makes you happy. She chases the loneliness away. You want to give her everything, the entire world, and that includes a night filled with orgasms.

Holding eye contact, you thrust your fingers into her. Her hips buck to chase the feeling. Moans fill the space around you, whiny and needy, and her hips rut against your hand with more fervor.

Your mouth releases her breast. You litter it with kisses and hickeys, still fucking her with your fingers. You slowly sink to your knees to bury your face against her stomach, leaving kisses there as well, and continuing pumping your fingers in and out of her. Slickness covers your hands, dripping down your wrists, and Natasha meets every thrust.

"I'll buy you everything", you moan. "Anything. Whatever you want."

"Bribing me?" She tries to laugh, but it comes out strained. She grinds against your hand, forcing you in deeper. You nudge that spongy little part and hear another moan. "I'm not your trophy, you know."

"No." You kiss along her lower stomach, your free hand gripping her thigh. Your movements become quicker, harder, feeling her walls clench around you in desperation. "Never said you were."

Natasha wants to respond, but in that moment, she can't. She lifts one leg and hooks it over your shoulder, letting herself take you wholly. Goosebumps and kiss-bitten lips, hickeys and flushed skin. Your fingers curl, your lips wrap around her clit, and her body tenses up.

You feel her orgasm as if it were your own. Intense, all-consuming, wiping every thought from her brain. She keeps riding your hand until it all becomes overstimulating, then you pull out.

Looking up, the sight of her disheveled state brings a smirk to your face. She pinches your bottom lip.

"Ow. What's that for?", you ask, her fingers lingering on your mouth.

"You're getting cocky."

"Am not."

"You definitely are. Get up, hotshot."

You grumble and kiss her fingertips, but do as told. Natasha leans in to kiss you, her hands fumbling with the zipper on your slacks. She walks you backwards, pushes you onto the bed, straddles you. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, tangled from Natasha's earlier tossing and turning.

There's not much time to think about any of that, though.

. . .

— RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL —

A private pool that seems to spill out into the ocean below. A plate of fruit sits on the edge, the papaya and mangoes long forgotten about, with two empty coconut shells next to it.

Aside from the lapping of the water and the rustling of the trees, only your soft moans fill the air. Her hands on your shoulders and yours on her hips, you guide her up and down the strap rhythmically. She looks down, watching the girthy piece of silicone through the water. How its full length disappears inside of her, again and again, blurred by the water you're in.

Another moan. You lean in and press your lips to her collarbone, tasting sunscreen and something sweet. Her fingers mess up your hair and slide back down to your shoulders, fingernails raking over your skin and leaving marks.

"I'm close", she whimpers, hips rotating on the strap. You guide her every movement, pushing the toy in as deep as you can. You watch stupidly how her body moves on it.

"Sound like it, too", you rasp. After almost a year of this, you know every telltale sign. "Open wider, baby."

Her thighs part just the tiniest bit more, but it's enough for her clit to rub against the base of the harness. Her head drops forward, forehead resting against yours, and she cries out quietly.

"Fuck, I-"

"Almost there." You rub her sides and watch her ride harder, pushing herself over the edge. Once the climax has lost most of its intensity, she collapses against you. "Holy."

"I feel like we should stop. For our neighbors' sake."

You laugh and kiss her bare shoulder. You're both completely naked, thanks to the pool being directly attached to your suite. No one can see you, but you're sure many people can hear you.

"Need a break already?", you tease.

"No, hotshot", she replies, nuzzling your neck with her face. "I just want to enjoy this for a moment. No distractions."

This. You and her, intertwined, doing nothing in particular. It shouldn't surprise you, but it does, anyway.

Neither of you know where this is going. You don't know whether this is just going to end someday, or whether you actually have a shot at making it. But, truthfully, you don't know what 'making it' would entail, either.

Natasha also doesn't know. She still doesn't know whether you feel the same as her. Whether you're in as deep as she is. Maybe she is exactly what she fears most to be — a trophy. Someone you don't feel anything real for.

You don't talk about it. Starting a conversation like that is risky, because the worst case scenario is everything falling apart.

In the beginning, it was fun. It was passionate and indulgent, a sexy fantasy. It was all about sex and money and pouring champagne like it's water.

Then, feelings came into play. You're not sure whether that's ever ended well.

. . .

— PARIS, FRANCE —

"God, you're obsessed."

You look up, still kneeling on the floor with a high heel in your hand. You give her a deadpan look.

"Keep that up and you're sleeping on the balcony tonight. Now give me your foot."

"I'm just saying. You, on your knees for me? Should've rented out the jewelry store instead."

"What?... Oh. Ha. Uhm-"

Natasha laughs and does as told. You shake your head, cheeks pink and warm, and slide the heel onto her foot. You make sure it fits right and then hum in approval.

Aside from the two of you, the changing room is empty. In fact, the entire store is. You rented it out for the next few hours, making it easier for Natasha to look at clothes and try them on without being bothered.

"Not bad", she says, resting her leg over your shoulder. You turn your head and kiss her calf. "Maybe in another color?"

"Which one? Black, maybe? Or lilac? Those would look nice with that dress you-"

"Y/N", she cuts you off, "this one's fine. Really. I like it."

You give her a skeptical look, but she just raises her eyebrows at you. She seems to be telling the truth, so you squeeze her ankle before moving her leg off your shoulder. Straightening up, you reach for another dress.

Natasha grabs it and steps into the fitting room. She returns not too long after, and the sight renders you speechless.

A deep red gown, its fabric hugging every curve just right. The silk cascades down her body and pools at her feet, but the long slit at the side keeps it from looking too modest. Your eyes land on the plunging sinful neckline, then trace the delicate straps framing her shoulders.

She steps in front of the mirror and studies herself. In this lightning, the dress looks like molten wine clinging to her skin. You finally look up and catch her gaze in the mirror. Paired with the faint smirk, the timeless dress becomes something entirely different.

Dangerous. Unfair.

Heat crackles between you. You swallow heavily, eyes locked on the sight, fingers twitching and want throbbing in your body.

"You're staring."

You swallow again. "You're in that."

"I am."

Your hands ball into fists. You shift and try crossing your legs, but when she runs a hand down her side, it's over. You step closer, unable to stop yourself at this point. Your hands find her waist, your lips hover next to her ear. Then, you press a kiss to her earlobe.

Your hands wander further up her body, cupping the swell of her breasts. You toy with her hardened nipples, which are barely concealed by the dress's thin fabric. Natasha moans and leans into you.

"We're in a store."

"We're alone."

"The employees..."

"The employees won't come in unless we call them", you assure her, voice a strained mumble. Your fingers tug at the neckline of her dress until her chest is revealed, then you tuck the fabric under her breast. "Look at you. Fuck."

Her head drops against your shoulder. You kiss her neck, bared to you, and cup her breast. Your free hand runs down her body, finding the slit of her dress and dipping underneath it.

"Move the dress?", you mumble.

One hand on the back of your head, Natasha pulls the skirt of the dress aside until you can see everything clearly. Her thighs, her lingerie, the garter belt. Creamy skin, adorned by the faintest of stretch marks. Your face has been buried between those very thighs dozens of times by now, but you'll never get sick of the feeling.

You run your fingers over her underwear. It's soaked.

"That was quick."

"Really? You'll make fun of me now?"

"No, baby." You kiss her shoulder and pull away, only to step around her and get on your knees again. This time, for an entirely different reason. You hold onto her thighs and look up. Her breathing is slightly uneven. "This okay?"

"Anything else wouldn't be okay", she replies. You hook your fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pull it down. It drops to the ground and gives you a full view of her cunt. Hand on the back of your head, she guides you closer.

You bury your face between her legs and immediately feel the slick heat. It coats your cheeks, your tongue, letting you taste the tangy sweetness you've grown familiar with. You grip the backs of her thighs for more support and run your tongue through her folds.

Natasha feels every touch, every movement. She grips your hair to keep herself from falling over, nails digging into your scalp. You eat her out surrounded by mirrors, letting her see every angle of what you're doing to her.

. . .

Hand in hand, you walk down Avenue Montaigne.

The sun is beaming down at you, making the street look even more fairytale-like than it already is. Tall buildings, brick walls, trees lined up on either side of the road. You squeeze her hand.

"What's next?", you ask, looking at her. "Perfume? Maybe a purse?"

Natasha tilts her head. There you go again, asking about things that should be irrelevant. Things that, if she's being honest, never were relevant. All of this extravagance is fun. Being flown around in private jets, traveling the world, getting whatever she wants whenever she wants it — she enjoys it, no doubt.

But is that all she wants?

Of course not. In fact, it’d be a lie if she said it ever was.

From that first night in the bar, she wasn't trying to find someone who'd drown her in money. Otherwise, she would've found someone like that ages ago. The bar she worked in was one of the most prestigious in all of Los Angeles. It would've been easy to pick a random person and make them fall for her.

She didn't want that, though. She stuck to dating literally anyone else to avoid ending up as a trophy, as someone who isn't anything else but something to make her partner look good.

Then, you stumbled in. Not once, but twice. Everything about you was painfully similar to the other people sitting in that same bar that night, but you were also completely unlike them.

Everything about you screamed money. The stupid suit, the Black Card, the way you talked to her. But you weren't snobby. She'd known that from the first time she saw you there — when you got so drunk you passed out. Everyone else cares about their reputation, their public image, but you let yourself get black out drunk.

You returned. You sat down right in front of her. She took one look at your face pressed against the counter, hair a mess, and knew she'd love whatever is hidden underneath that hated suit you were wearing.

Your hair is always a mess. Even now, walking down the street in Paris's most luxurious shopping street, you look like you got caught in a storm. Short, unruly strands, some blocking your vision, others hastily tucked behind your ear.

Natasha stops in the middle of the street. She leans in and kisses you.

Another indulgence or something sincere — she doesn't know. Maybe she doesn't want to know.

"No more shopping", she says. You give her an unsure look. "Please."

"Okay", you mumble. You continue walking.

Her instruction should be simple enough to follow. No more shopping, no more expensive clothes, no more Michelin starred food. But how does someone who's spent their entire life surviving on money, and gifts, and everything material, suddenly change their ways? It's your form of affection.

It's more difficult than it should be.

You keep walking. You don't pay the big designer brands any mind.

That is, until you pass Chaumet.

A French jeweler specializing in refined pieces, romantic pieces. Jewelry with meaning.

Your eye catches the engagement rings. Natasha follows your gaze.

For a moment, neither of you move. Do you really have what it takes?

You look at her. She brushes the hair away from your eyes. Your hand squeezes hers once more.

A bell rings, a door closes.

It's your last big purchase of the day.

[lostintransist]

The Price is Wife | Part 2

Part one here *Part one includes ace!wife!reader coming home to find John has brought home a boyfriend and packs a bag to spend the night at a hotel because why would John need a wife if he has a boyfriend???

Tear stains on your cheeks led to a cool washcloth on your face before packing all of your clothes back into your luggage. You didn't know if you would be able to book this same room for another few nights.

Digging your nails into the palm of the other hand you focus on breathing. The bright color on your nails makes you think of John. Fuck. He had paid for this set. Dammit all and beyond, you didn't want your marriage to end. You love John, he had to be one of your best friends. With a little wine in your glass you would even call him your soul mate. He would laugh and lay a kiss at your cheek, thanking you for the honor.

You loved that man so much you couldn't, wouldn't, stand in his way of being truly happy. John longed for more physical affection than either of you was comfortable with. You knew that John would thrive under the kisses of his boyfriend. Guess you would request a transfer at work and file uncontested.

Halting those thoughts before you started sobbing again you flap your hands at your face to keep your eyes from leaking. Your makeup was done lightly today, knowing you would be crying most of it off in John's office after work despite the setting spray.

Three meetings. That is all you had to get through today. You could buy yourself comfort food on the way to the hotel. Might even splurge and rent an overpriced movie. Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

First meeting drags, sending the following two into overtime and you to missing lunch and clocking out an hour later than you originally planned. The idea of putting food in your face makes you nauseus. Any food will taste like sawdust right now.

The first person to notice something is wrong is the gate officer. Office Madida had been letting you on and off base for a few years now. The man's bright smile fit so neatly on his dark skin that to see him without one would almost signal the end of the world.

"Ah! Mrs. Price, here to see your husband?"

Offering a wan smile you nod, "I'm a bit late. Would you call his office to let him know I'm here?"

"Of course! Give me a moment," Madida grabs the phone from its cradle and punches in a series of numbers. He looks you over smile slipping as he takes in the whole of you. "You doing alright Mrs. Price?"

The title slices at you. It won't be yours for to much longer. Your wan smile is now watery.

"Not really, but I appreciate you noticing."

He holds up a finger as he speaks into the phone. "Yeah, I've got Mrs. Price at the gate. She's asking that Captain Price can meet at his office?" He lifts a brow at you to confirm. At your nod he continues, "I'll send her in now. No, she won't need an escort she's been visiting her husband for nearly a decade."

Fuck a duck, your next anniversry would be ten wouldn't it? A hiccuping sob bursts past your lips. The hand you slap to your mouth doesn't prevent Officer Madida's sharp look as he hangs up the phone.

"Go and park Mrs. Price. Give me five minutes to get a replacement out here and I will walk with you."

You do as commanded, tears streaking down your face as you settle the car into park. Madida opens the door and reaches in to turn off the engine when he arrives. Thankfully you have nearly sobbed yourself out when he arrives. He walks close to you, deference and defense in his body language.

Officer Madida leaves you after John's voice rings out at your knock. Stepping into his office feels like the first time you did it. Two weeks after you had gotten married. He introduced you around the base, proud to show off his new wife. The same drab brown covered the walls, a blanket you had crocheted him for your first wedding anniversery lay across the couch he kept for naps. The only real change in the room had to be the drawn look across John's face.

For a man who should have been happy to lose a wife and gain a husband he looked dreadful. Deep eye bags and his unkempt beard tell of a hard night. Maybe has hard as yours.

John rose slowly as you shut the door behind you. His eyes searched yours.

"Are you ready to talk now?" The gravel in his voice stings as if you were flung across it.

The lip quiver starts first. "What is there to talk about John? Why would you me when you have a boyfriend now? We are friends who sometimes kiss and share tax benefits and a flat. That's not much compared to someone who can love you the way you deserve and fills your needs and your bed."

Tightening your nails into your palms and your arms around your ribs you watch your husband round his desk. John's broad hands settle on you, one at your face and the other one your elbow. Your eyelids drift closed at the familiar, safe touch.

"Why would I want to trade one love for another?" John whispers, voice breaking.

Lifting a hand to lay across the one on your face you open your eyes and match his tear filled gaze.

"I can't see your boyfriend being okay with you keeping a wife. I can't be the reason you don't get to be happy."

John's hand slide around to the back of you, pulling you into a hug.

"The first thing I did," John spoke into your ear, "When Nik kissed me out of the blue was tell him about my wife. The woman who holds me as I cry and pokes fun at me until we both laugh. My best friend, my soul mate. I told him about our arrangement, and how anything with him could not hurt what I have with you. You're allowed to be selfish."

You are sobbing now, wrinkling John's shirt with your tears and your grip. Selfish isn't something you have ever been allowed to be. Asking for your parents to show up to important dates in school, graduation, etc were always met with cries of being selfish. Your sibling had an event that day already, or they had a work event. John had been the first to put your first.

Being put aside so often by those that claimed to love you it only made sense to step aside before John could do the same.

"No I'm not. Selfish is always the word people use to say I am asking for to much." Sobbing harder the past pains work their way out through your grip on your husband. "Why didn't you tell me John? I would have understood. I want you to be able to be loved the way you deserve."

"Honestly?" He chuckled a bit, "I was so excited for the two of you two meet that I didn't think it through."

Pulling back from John you give him a look he is expressly familiar with. Sometimes your brilliant, SAS-trained, Air Force Captian was dumber than a box of rocks. At this point, you chalked it up to a function of testosterone.

"You forgot to tell your wife that you were bringing your boyfriend home?" The deadpan delivery has John's ears pinking up.

"Nik also called me an idiot after I explained that you were heading to a hotel for the night. He was looking forward to meeting you. If you're okay with it he is probably outside the office waiting to talk to you," John gives you the softest of smiles.

There is a light knock at the door.

"I want you both, and if there is anything you need from me to keep both of you I will do anything to make that happen." John speaks with the seriousness that made you believe he would fight god and win.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips John opens the door to his lover. Nik observes you with a cool indifference. The deepening wrinkles around his eyes tell you he might also be nervous.

"Would you like to see my helicopter?" His accent is thicker today than when he introduced himself last night.

You nod, and John offers your hand to his boyfriend. Nik takes your hand, tucking it into the corner of his elbow as the two of you wander further onto base. Passing no one on your way neither of you is ready to break the silence.

Leaving the building behind both you and Nik take a deep breath. Glancing at him you find Nik looking at your already. Both of you laugh out your big breath of air.

"I hate being in the base buildings for too long. Makes my skin itch," you offer.

"I dislike all the brown," Nik replies in return.

"What did John tell you?" You broach the subject first.

"He told me of his wife. Of her kindness, her self sacrificing ways, of the kisses you share, and the happiness that fills him up so much that I fell in love with coming from you."

No change in his tone or side glance at you. The feet attached to your body would have been rooted to the ground if Nik did not keep careful pressure on your hand, pulling you forward to the helicopter now within sight.

The ache in your chest that had started last night when John called Nik his boyfriend flared to life again, an improperly cared for fire.

"First thing you will need to learn," you cover your mouth with a hand, "Is that you can't say nice things like that to me. I cry if you are to nice to me and you are in love with John so you don't want to comfort his wife."

Nik blinks at you slowly, observing. He gives no inclination as to what he saw but lets your hand fall as you reach his helo. He opens the side door and invites you to sit down with a pat of his hand. Sitting next to you Nik does not say anything for a long time. Swinging your feet you prod at your emotions until you can parse them out enough for words. Your palms wear patterns up and down the thighs of your pants.

"I don't want to lose him, Nik. But he deserves to be happy and I know he will be happy with you. He's talked about you before, for years now, I just never realized he liked you more than as a friend. A word from you and I will file the paperwork today. It's an odd agreement between us. I knew it would end for him one day when he found someone to love and love him in return." Your voice breaks as you fight back the sobs. As if the cliffs could fight back a storm.

He pulls your hand from your lap, threading his wide fingers between yours. Hair dots his knuckes. He does not offer platitudes, or unfounded words, simply holds your hand as you weep.

"You love John. I also love John. Part of the love John carries is for you alone, and it would shatter him to lose you," Nik pauses until your sobbing has slowed enough to hear him again. "Give us a chance to learn to love each other, as friends and as those who love the idiot that is John Price."

Someone else calling John an idiot sparked a bark of laughter.

"I would love to learn to love you Nik," squeezing his fingers tight in yours you stand.

Nik joins you. Releasing his hand from yours he settles both against your face. Placing a kiss to one cheek and then the other, he finally places a kiss on your lips. The two of you share a smile and a nod of understanding. This would be a time of transition and of growth, but you both loved John enough to make room for the other.

The kiss Nik pressed to your lips did not go unobserved. Kyle, with a twisted and complicated relationship of his own he kept under wraps, saw Nik kiss John's wife. Turning and sprinting across the base he found his lovers, Simon and Johnny, reviewing paperwork from their last mission.

"Nikoli is a fucking homewrecker and is trying to get with Mrs. Price!"

That brought all work to a hard standstill.

Masterlist

[celestiamour]

since you asked for hyun-ju ideas, here am i 🙂

Imagine being her girlfriend and finally managing to hype her up to wear something more feminine for a date (like a dress or a skirt), only for that confidence to be shattered by some strangers on the street ;((

so, after a bit of comfort, you just need to prove how they were wrong, and show your sweet girlfriend how nice you think she looks on that outfit *wink wink*

ft. cho hyun ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ hyping her up to go out wearing a skirt for the first time┊0.7k words

contains: fluff with suggestive content at the end!! gender dysphoria & insecurity but mainly euphoria, established relationship, reader is shorter

➤ author's note: i went off prompt and didn’t do smut for this one because i really just wanted to focus on her gender euphoria moment, so sorry (also this is my first time writing for a trans character centered around gender identity! my knowledge mainly comes from having an ex girlfriend who was trans and told me about her experience, but if i got anything wrong or need improvement for something, please tell me so that i can improve and do hyun-ju justice!)

she stared at herself in the mirror, almost in disbelief at first at the reflection looking back at her. it’s insane how a little bit of makeup and stylized outfits could completely transform her appearance, the magic being something she’s heard about plenty of times but has only been able to witness at this moment. her fingers nimbly adjusted her hair, brushing it back before pushing the front stands forward to frame her face, and then flying to her pleated skirt to straighten it out. her heartbeat was all over the place, both from the happiness of finally feeling like herself and from the anxiety of planning to go out in public like this.

hyun-ju paused at the thought of that, looking back at herself and suddenly focusing on all of her insecurities again— the more masculine features that other people would point out and whisper about from her face to her frame. she looked at her bare legs and found the contrast with the dainty piece of cloth too stark to ignore, finding herself crossing her legs and wondering if she should just wear pants like she usually did.

self-consciousness started to consume her entire being and thoughts about it not being enough raced across her mind, taking in a deep breath and considering just taking it all off to stay in for the night. the last thing she wanted was to get harassed by some assholes on the street just for trying to be herself, especially when she knew you would yell back at them and a fight was very much possible as it happened in the past before ending with you in the hospital for a broken wrist (the other guy was in a much worse state, but she still didn’t like the idea of you getting injured or possibly even arrested for her behalf).

“babe, are you finished changing?” you called out and broke her out of her thinking, but you entered before she could say anything. she cringed slightly and closed her, feeling embarrassed until she heard you gasp in pure delight, “oh, you look so beautiful!”

the heat radiating off her cheeks from being sheepish quickly changed to that of being flustered, “r-really?”

“of course!” you took her hands into yours, spinning her around like she was a princess wearing the most luxurious ball gown ever crafted even though it was bought at a local mall, “i knew this outfit would look good on you, it really is your color!”

“right, i was just worried it looked weird…” she felt a little stupid expressing her concerns, but she knew you were understanding, “i just feel like… i don’t know, i feel like i’m too tall to wear something like this…”

“being too tall isn’t a problem! personally, i would kill to be your height and to have your legs, and i know plenty of other people would too. it’s a trait that lots of top models have, so you don’t have to worry about anything!”

your words made her crack a smile, feeling the initial confidence flood her and your arm wrap around her waist as her gaze returned to the mirror once again with both of you admiring her beauty. seeing herself in your light was always enlightening like she was a completely different person in the best way possible, and she was so grateful to have you as her girlfriend to pull her out of her negative thoughts. 

“well, we better get going. if we stand here always just staring at how pretty you are, i might not be able to control myself and we’ll be home all night,” you teased, standing on your tip-toes and kissing her carefully on the lips so as to not mess up the tinted gloss.

“i don’t think i would mind that…” 

“don’t tempt me now…” the fluffy atmosphere became charged with a familiar tension with your touch lingering on her skin, one of your hands traced up her thigh with sinful ideas forming on how you could mark up the unblemished skin and ruin the makeup you wanted to preserve a mere few seconds ago.

after a few seconds of heavy silence, you finally pulled her to join you on the bed, all teasing smiles and lust, “well, we can just order an uber instead of walking, we can spare ten minutes. that’s all the time we need, isn’t it?”

[zalayni]

🌆 LOVE U 3000┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: earth 42!miles morales x reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: your life is always interesting now that you're dating the one and only miles morales.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author's note: the discord server for atsv fans between 13-16 is still open so hmu if you wanna join 😝😝

he cups his hand under your mouth whenever he feeds you food so it won't fall on your clothes.

“here Mami try this” miles cupped his hand under her chin and gently blew in the soup that he had in a spoon so it wouldn't burn your mouth.

your his shadowboxing victim whenever his friends aren't around

he doesn't mind being his nerdy self around you

miles punched the air and faked dodge a nonexistent punch before turning towards you as you sat on his bed with your phone in your hand. “do you think I can defeat batman?” you rolled your eyes and chuckled at him. “Miles he's like twice your size.”

you two obviously play fight for fun. he never once hurt you for real

he gets too lazy to type out his messages sometimes so he resorts into sending you voicenotes instead

deadly ass side eye whenever you jokingly insult him

“that purple hoodie you have on makes you look like grimace” you said with a hand on your mouth to stop the laughter that was about to burst out of her. Miles stopped in his tracks slowly turning his eyes towards you, side eyeing your laughing figure. “you play too much.”

he has the receipt tucked into his wallet from your guy's first date which was at the arcade.

has his lockscreen and wallpaper saved as a picture of you two. he changes it atleast once a month because he adores taking pictures of you.

a bright flash disturbed you from doing your skin care routine. you turned your vanity chair towards the source only to find Miles smiling down at his phone. “did you just take a picture of me?” “um maybe."

you two love to post eachother on your instagrams

bro does not know how to swim 😭😭 if you're able to swim then he'll ask you to teach him but if you can't that still won't stop the two of you from going swimming especially when it's summer

stares at you whenever you're doing your makeup, hair, or even your skincare.

“Morales you're staring.” you joked seeing him stare at you from the corner of your eye. this made Miles scoff “so what?”

he wears a chain with your initial as the pendant and he wears matching bracelets with you.

whenever he sleeps with a bonnet on he wakes up with the end of it hiding one of his eyes.

“what are you laughing at?” he croaked still obviously half asleep. “did you turn emo miles?” you asked before pointing at his bonnet that slipped down, hiding his left eye.

really wanted to get his ears pierced and when he finally got them he was squeezing the blood out of your hands once they held the needle against his hear

you winced at how tight Miles's grip on your hand got. You saw him shut his eyes tightly when the needle went through making the hole for the piercing. Once it was all done he looked down at your hand noticing how red it is which made him laugh. “sorry Mami.”

“five more minutes” warrior. that man refuses to get up early even if you two need to be somewhere on time.

he has a habit of turning towards you with the "did you just see that?" look whenever he sees someone doing something embarrassing.

he'll ask you to come over just so you two can bake together. his mom thinks the two of you are adorable

he has a PC set up with a his gaming chair and right next to it is your set up and chair that he had bought so you two can play together

“do you like it?" Miles said while uncovering your eyes to show you his hard work on setting everything up. the whole setup was based on your favorite colors. “how much did this cost?” you asked making Miles shut you up with a kiss. “don't even worry about it.”

you two danced in the rain once thinking it was a good idea but the both of you ended up sick afterwards

he gifts you a promise ring since you two are too young to get married just yet

has a habit of turning his head so his lips could reach your hand whenever you cup his face

has a whole board filled with pictures of you two either from a polaroid or photobooths

over all gentleman towards you (and his mom ofc)

actually loves physical touch

you were standing up making yourself a sandwich for a late night snack until you felt someone snake their arms around your waist and rest their head against your shoulder. you didn't have to look over your shoulder to figure out who it was. “hey, you hungry?” miles hummed against your shoulder, tightening his grip on your waist. “yeah.”

when you two take the subway he has his arm wrapped around your waist while resting his hand on your hip as his free hand was holding onto one of the poles. he does this no creep comes your way and so you won't fall as the subway can be pretty rough at times.

pulls out his phone whenever you two aren't together in person.

“miss you :(”

“miles I literally just left like a couple minutes ago”

he knows whenever you feel down even if you don't say anything about it

“hermosa, look at me.” he lifted your chin with his hand making you stare up at him. “what's wrong? you're not your usual self.”

respects your boundaries and leaves you alone/drops the subject if you don't feel comfortable talking about it at the moment

“sorry, I just. I just don't wanna talk about it right now.” Miles smiled at you before kissing the top of your hand that he was holding. “it's okay mi niña hermosa, talk to me when you're ready."

[paper-mario-wiki]

you do such a good job passing! any tips?

thank you, i appreciate that! i dont have a ton of tips since ive only been at it for a little over half a year, and im kinda flying by the seat of my pants cuz i dont have a lot of people i talk to day-to-day about presentation. pretty much everything ive figured out by myself and with youtube tutorials. regardless, heres a few i can think of:

don't be afraid to go to a makeup store and ask for advice. i brought a picture of myself i put through faceapp to give me makeup, and i showed it to the ladies at sephora, who were able to get me exactly what i was looking for. theres a world of difference between a face full of makeup, and a face full of makeup that's slightly the wrong shade, and it's good to get the opinions of experts.

try to look at the other women in your family and see how they style themselves, or do their makeup, or even how they speak or carry themselves. finding a look that works isn't somethin that you can fall into super easily, you have to go searching for it. try to model yours after the people who literally share your genes and therefore your features. (note, the opposite is equally usable for transmascs, look at your brothers, fathers, and uncles)

spend time in the mirror seeing what looks right. comb your hair in different directions, part it in a different place, put a clip in, dye it a different color, etc. put on makeup and then take it all off, then put on way too much and only take half of it off. learn the muscle memory of holding a liquid eyeliner pen in your non dominant hand and tracing it across the eyelid on the opposite side of your face without twitching your eye. nobody will see you, you're in your own bathroom. with the resources you have, treat the Bathroom Fit Check like you're customizing a character in a videogame.

look for your angles! i wish i could look good at every angle, but i don't, and vanishingly few people actually do. i spent a lot of time looking at myself in my front-facing phone camera from different directions and thinking "fuck im never going to pass, i really dont look great. is this even worth it?" and no matter how much doubt i had, in the long run the answer ended up being yes, it is worth it. that's kinda how hard things are: they suck until they don't anymore.

this one is really simple and may not apply to you, but fix your posture. seriously. when i started standing up straight for a few weeks i noticed an change in how i looked and carried myself (and my back doesnt hurt as much now)

come to terms with the fact that a lot of women look like men, and a lot of men look like women. the idea that all men look one way and all women look the other is an propagandstic invention of the state that should not be taken seriously. (note: this tip works only inwardly as a facet of self actualization. no matter what, you will always run into people who buy into the propaganda. to the best of your ability, pay them no mind.)

im sorry i cant give you anything more, but thats kind of a big question to answer, so i hope this helps!

[mr-butter-face]

I've already expressed my adoration of both designs of Telltale's Joker. But I just want to break down why they're so appealing to me.

In the game, John Doe goes through huge changes in his life that are expressed in his wardrobe. But the most dramatic change is at the last episode of the series. When he fully transforms into Joker.

Brian Matyas is a concept designer who had worked on both Batman Telltale games. He had posted some of his works on Artstation and Instagram.

[Brain Matyas Instagram Post]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BhucYx5lGCb/?img_index=1

(I suggest you read the entire post till the end.)

[John Doe]

As the game progresses in the story, players will probably take note of how John's wardrobe goes through the most changes compared to everyone else. But the key thing to note that stayed consistent in each episode was his half-fast way of buttoning/tucking-in his shirt and how progressively colorful his outfit was getting.

[Villain Joker]

There's a lot of things to break down about this outfit. First, Brian Matyas stated that Villain Joker was molded primarily by Bruce Wayne. Not Batman. Joker's business tie and fancy suit's purpose was to emulate Bruce's public persona of being a CEO (or, more simply, a person with power). Interestingly enough, Joker's gloves are basically the same kinds that Harley wears in game, as if it were to say now they're equals in their relationship (but obviously they're not). I've heard from others that gloves are symbolic of secrets, which describes how Joker has kept some information hidden from Harley.

The Villain Joker design is probably the most colorful one. His bright green hair, the 80 carpet patterns in his navy suit, the pop of hot pink, and the most disgusting looking dress-shirt I've ever seen. Jack Nicholas' influence isn't lost on me. This outfit screams bold and confident, and most importantly, free.

There are still elements of John Doe. The poorly done tucking and buttoning of Joker's shirt are there. But strangely enough, the strain of hair in front of his head is flipped. John’s was located on the right side while Joker purposely flipped it to the left. And that's not the only thing that's flipped. John's outfit consisted of a purple vest inside and a green/teal shirt outside. Now the pattern is switched with Joker, green shirt inside and dark navy suit outside. Subtle differences like this are led to believe that Joker wants Bruce Wayne to know that he's completely different from John Doe.

The last thing to talk about is his shaved eyebrow. I have no idea why he would do that. People have said it's because he wanted to express how much damage Bruce did to him. Personally, I thought it was like ‘girls making bad hair decisions after a breakup’ thing.

Although his design encompasses both Bruce Wayne and Harley Quinn's impact on his life. It's more leaning into Bruce.

[Vigilante Joker]

There's something about this design that always makes me feel so heartbroken. Not because it's a bad design but because of how much it reminds me how John had faith that if he lived up to Batman's standards that he would be able to maintain their friendship.

Brian Matyas said that he wanted the Vigilante Joker's silhouette to emulate Batman's. It's shown by how his hair and shoulders are curved to a point. Joker's makeup is a lot more gothic and is a lot more menacing than Villain's makeup. It also almost resembles the mask that typically Robin would wear.

Again, there are still elements of John Doe present here. But they are less noticeable than Villain's. Joker's left arm has stitches, (John has been seen wearing a vest that has a different color button then the rest) his shirt's collar isn't properly folded correctly, (John is practically never seen to maintain his dress-shirt collar properly) and he still keeps his vest unlike Villain route. (Although like Villain, there is a color swap with the green shirt and purple vest)

But one thing that jumps out to me is how dull in vibrate color he is compared to Villain Joker's or even John Doe's fourth episode outfit. I had to brighten up my screen in order to identify the smile patterns in his suit. Vigilante design is flashy, but it feels like he's being held back from fully expressing himself.

Joker never really understood Batman's moral code. For players to unlock the Vigilante route, they had to enable John's more violent tendencies. So his outfit only reflects the darker side of Bruce Wayne because that's what Joker believes to be what Batman wants from him.

Huge thanks to hemfbg. They were able to locate both Joker's concept art from Brian Matyas' Instagram.

[Hemfbg Telltale Community Post]

https://community.telltalegames.com/discussion/121009/concept-art-by-brian-matyas

[starlightmoon96]

Yandere IDW Rodimus Prime x (INK/goth/ curvy human reader) Pt.1

(Ink short for Ice Nine Kills)

Warning stubborn reader being there Apothisexual, mentions of bother bots banged other humans, obsession

____

Ever since the 'humans are bang-able' fad made by Jazz had spread to a lot of couples on the base are a mix of both humans and bots was well..it was a little expected.

You didn't really find out THAT part till after you showed up, only because your cousin was on the base and strongly insisted that you come, since you where currently looking for a place to stay after your freak landlord kicked you out after you refused his advances towards you.

Arriving at the base you stood out from the rest of humans that lived there, for starters you where thee only goth but you where quite attractive and took care of yourself. Your dark gothic makeup perfect and skin flawless along with having a good sense of goth fashion, you where happy that you had your cousin with you. She did look a little similar too you with having the same color hair and eyes, second reason why you stood out not only did you take care of your skin you took great care of your body. Curves in all the right places, no surgery and naturally beautiful and curvy, that would make a lot of women green with envy, you had gotten modeling offers but you refused them all.

Since you where new and a little different some of the bots where curious about you, Jazz creeped you out which led to you keeping your distance from him on your first day on the base after he introduced himself. He came out a little too strong that was red flag to you, it was like that with a several of the bots that made you think it was bad idea in coming to the base.

Things got a little easy for you in making friends in the next couple of days, you weren't just a curvy/ beautiful goth. You where an Ice Nine Kills fan and you where happy that you weren't thee only metal head on the base, only a very small number of the humans on the base knew about Ice Nine Kills and like a couple of the albums but weren't up to date like you where. You did like several other metal bands but Ice Nine Kills was the band your loved thee most and couldn't live without, another you enjoyed where horror movies as well thanks to the band.

Despite you keeping your distance from several bots, you did make friends with a small handful that didn't make advances at you. One of them was Rodimus Prime, he was impressed with your personality. You where also different from the humans that wanted to be VERY close with him, seeing how you weren't like thee others was a nice and different change. You where well educated for a goth and you had not character but you where also conservative, Rodimus also loved your taste in music. Yes you loved Ice Nine Kills but there different types of music you liked as well in your mix, one of them was classic rock from the 80's to the mid 90's with alternative rock. What really strikes Rodimus curiosity was that during your first week you had not once mentioned sex in the slightest and when it came to the subject he'd noticed how you'd be grossed out by it.

....

"(C/N) I don't know how much more I can take?" You complained to your cousin in your shared quarters

"(Y/N) I know you, a few creeps have never stopped you. You managed to ruin your old landlords life before leaving." Your cousin said that leaning against the door and you sighed inhaling your cigarette and blowing out the smoke

"I can't thank you ever for going with that cover story when some of the bots started asking you questions about me about my lack of sex life." After saying that your cousin asked

"Have you saved up enough yet?" You nod your head no

"Not thee amount I want, I'm happy they don't charge rent here. It's easy to save up for my own place again, I'm very close to that marketing promotion that I had my eyes on for a while." When you said that your cousin asked you another question

"I guess you ain't hooking up with anyone here then?" You felt a little insulted hearing those words and it clearly showed on your face

"Are you serious? Just cause my past relationships ended up with me being dumped doesn't mean I'll date just anyone." You sighed in annoyance as you sat on your bed

"All of them cared about was sex cause of MY looks, it seems it's no different HERE just with alien robots. Jazz creeps me out and is a little too much for me."

"You seem close to Rodimus, a lot of the girls have tried and not much luck with the guy." You rolled your eyes with the comment before speaking

"Friend zone is all the guy is getting, my type of personality in being around. You've met my friend circle.....But dating? I don't know? I have mixed feeling about dating a different species?"

Both you and your cousin weren't aware that someone was listening to yawl's conversation was Rodimus, it was by chance he just happened to walk past the room where the doors where closed and heard you talking to your cousin. He heard everything from the beginning, even hearing how Jazz gave you the creeps and it explained to him why you had kept your distance from him since your first day despite his efforts. He also found out about your relationships which was what he wanted to ask your cousin and he got his answer without asking, hearing how you where repulsed by sex which ending your past relationships. He wanted to be different from those guys and thus started his 'stalking' but he called it research in order to be prepared in asking you out and before you 'left', yay he heard that you where saving up enough funds in getting your own place again so he had to act fast. He was happy that he didn't have to worry about any of the other bots trying to make a move since you where stubborn and kept to yourself......

'One week later...'

Rodimus had gotten enough info about you and had to do a little cyber stalking without talking to your cousin, during his little research he found out what your job was. He knew that you had a ' at home job' but didn't know your income, it was his cyber stalking that he found out that you where a part of the ACE community. He had never heard of it before since none of the humans that lived on the base where members of the ace community, he also had a feeling that not even Jazz knew of the ace spectrum. Yes Rodimus wanted to confront you about it but didn't know how? Now finding out the reason why you where so different only made things more....complicated, from what he saw you kept your distance from Jazz for a reason. After putting two and two together even he was smart enough to realize that you where asexual but didn't know what YOU identified as, in order in win you he had to get VERY creative.

[minnielvrr]

Styling~

Lee: Felix, Reader Ler: Reader, Felix Word Count: 1k

A/N: my first fic with bff reader😋i hope you like it~🤗💖

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@jungwon-is-the-one, @reginald-stay09

“Hold still, Lix, or I’m never going to finish,” you mutter, brush in hand, trying for the umpteenth time to tie little braids at the back of Lixie’s head.

Lix was talking your ear off. His voice was soft as it always was when he spoke to you. He leaned into your touch as your hands gently massaged his scalp.

Felix told you about all the places he’d been able to visit, telling you about everything that reminded him of you. He really wished he could take you along.

It was sweet, the way his mind seemed to find you even when he was halfway across the globe from you.

You’d missed him too.

As you wove the strands together you let your fingers ‘accidentally’ graze the blonde’s neck. It makes Felix squirm, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you through the mirror.

“Ihit’s nohohot fair! Y-yohuhu’re doing thihis on puhurpose!” He giggles and the cute sounds he makes, has you smiling fondly.

Your fingers dance along the back of his neck and brushing against the sensitive skin just below his hairline.

A soft shiver rippled through him, and you smirk as Lix trembles in his seat, barely holding back a chuckle.

“Tickles, huh?” You tease, your fingertips grazing his neck again, slower this time—deliberate.

You carefully watch the way Felix’s shoulders scrunch up and how his lips wobble before a beautiful smile breaks free.

“It’s nohot my fahault!! Youhuhu’re tihihickling mehehe!” He protests, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

Even as he whined, you noticed that Lix kept his hands in his lap, despite you not having requested it. It made you giggle.

Felix had always seemed to enjoy being tickled, you knew this, and you were so grateful he hadn’t changed.

“Squirmy. Does this tickle a lot baby?” You lean close to him, your hands merciless as they wiggled over Lix’s sensitive neck.

“Yehehehehes ihit tihihickles soho muHUHUch!!”

“Aww, so cute Lixie. You’re just as sensitive as I remember. I bet your members tickle you a lot to hm?” You loved how easy it was to fluster him.

Sweet giggles spill from his lips as you keep at it, gently curling and uncurling your hands at the sides of his neck.

“Youhuhu sahahaid you’d dohoho my hahair!! Nohohot tihickle mehe—AH ahahaha plehehease~”

Lixie’s hair was soft to the touch and as it brushed against your hands, an idea popped into your head.

Curiously, you catch a stand of his hair between your fingertips and sweep the ends over your best friend’s ear.

Felix squeaked, his hands shooting up to grab onto yours. He looked pleadingly up at you and you could see the rosy blush on his cheeks.

The color really brought out his freckles, making them pop up across his face like stars in the night sky. The sight was breathtaking.

“Haha, does everything tickle you Lix? C’mon admit you’re the most sensitive one in the group and I’ll let you go~”

Felix shook his head stubbornly, his legs kicking out slightly as you moved to his ribs,  digging into the crevices.

It makes Felix arch away, his hands clutching desperately onto the armrests of the chair.

“ahahaHAHA PLEHEHEASE!! NOHOT THEHERE!! YOUHUHU’RE SOHO MEHEHEAN!”

Shrieks mixed with helpless laughter, Lix doing his best to stay put while also trying to lean away from the torturous sensations.

It had been so long since the two of you had been able to spend some time together due to his busy schedule and Lix had promised to make it up to you.

You had been waiting for him to offer and a devious grin spread across your face the moment he had asked what you wanted to do.

His hair and makeup. Felix’s hair had grown so long and you had always wanted to style it. But as laughter filled the air, you decided that it could wait.

Right now, all you wanted to hear were more of these cute sounds. You couldn’t ignore how much you’d missed moments like these—the quiet times, just the two of you, away from the busy world.

Just when you thought you had the upper hand, Felix’s grin widened. Without warning, his fingers darted toward your waist, catching you off guard.

“Y/nnie~,” he cooed, scribbling his fingers over your sides and you can feel his breath fan your ear as he leans in, teasing, “Your turn now.”

You knew you were screwed. Lixie could be a so mean when he was in the mood.

There’s a gleam in his eyes as he watches you writhe in his hold. “What’s the matter y/nnie? Can’t take it, hm?”

His blunt nails skitter over your waist, lightning-fast and mischievous, making you jerk back instinctively.

A bout of frantic cackles escapes your lips as you shove his hands desperately. That ultimately proves to be futile.

His touch was light but quick, fingers dancing over your skin like tiny jolts of electricity, making it impossible to escape.

“Aw, that’s too bad. I wanna see your smile~ Won’t you laugh for me y/nnie?” Lix teased, his fingers playfully digging into your ribs now.

“Ahahaha Lihihix nohoho. Behehe nihihihice! Behe niHIHIHICE!!” You beg between peals of hysterical laughter.

His touch was relentless but playful, and his eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly enjoying every second of your torment.

Lix was much stronger than you and he used his strength to his advantage, easily pinning your arms and clawing at your tummy.

“C’mon y/nnie I know you can take this much~ Besides you really did a number on me earlier. Did you think you’d get away scot-free, hm?”

“Ihihi dihid nohohot! Plehehease ahahahaha youhu knohow Ihi’m more sehehehensitive!!” The words set your face ablaze, and felt insanely flustering to admit out loud but it got Felix to finally stop.

He let you go, messing up your hair as you slumped breathlessly in the chair he’d been seated in earlier. He tossed you a bottle of water from across the room.

“Now that we got that done, wanna get back on track?” His smirk told you this was far from over. The day was still young and you had plenty of time to get back at Lix.

“Better watch your back Lixie~ It’s not over yet.” You warn with a smirk, Felix’s bright red ears giving away how much this affected him.

[after-witch]

Something Like Consolation [Yandere Alhaitham x Reader]

Title: Something Like Consolation [Yandere Alhaitham x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow up to this yandere Kaveh & Alhaitham imagine scenario. You don't want any comfort from Kaveh in this moment, but you don't imagine you can get any from Alhaitham, either.

I read this post from @j0succ last night about gentle lies and immediately got an idea for a line of dialogue that solved how I wanted to approach a lil follow up to this scenario. Mostly written on my phone so uhh yeah.

Word count: 1376

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

The sight in the bathroom mirror is a far cry from what you saw only minutes before. Daintily applied makeup, finished off with carefully painted star, are ruined--streaking. Ugly. That’s what you see in the mirror. Splotches of color and red eyes and a face scrunched from bitter sadness. 

You look ugly. Mouth quivering as you fight to keep your sounds in, the blur of Alhaitham behind you, moving to shut the door. 

It’s the soft click of the bathroom door shutting that does you in. And pitiful mouth-pinched sobs that shake your chest become thick, choking cries echo off the panels of the bathroom walls. 

You aren’t hoping for Alhaitham to take you in his arms and rub your back and pull you close to his chest, and he doesn’t. Instead he reaches for one of the cloths hanging on the wall and turns the sink on, the heavy sound of water mingling with your own cries. 

He holds it out. “Wash that off, then we’ll get you changed.” 

The thought of taking that cloth makes your arms feel leaden. 

You look up at him, mouth downturned and pitiful and quivering. 

He sighs, and shakes his head. 

“I’ll wash it off for you. Stay still.” 

And you do, coughing out your cries as he dutifully dips the cloth in water again and again, scrubbing your face with the same methodical firmness that he scrubs the rest of you when he deems you too unruly to bathe yourself. 

If it were Kaveh, you think, he would be using the softest of touches. Cooing in between strokes as he gently wipes the makeup away. Kissing your cheek to calm you down. 

But you don’t want Kaveh right now. Not when he hurt you. Not when he lied to you. And if he lied about this... what else was a lie, then?

The way his fingers nimbly stroked your back when you were upset, the soft downturn of his lips when Alhaitham was verbally berating you for being so disobedient, the sweet kisses tinged with wine from a bar you’ll never be able to set foot in? 

Were they all falsehoods, too? Pretty things he created to calm you and soothe you and shut you up? 

When Alhaitham deems your face clean enough, he pulls away the cloth and drops it in a wicker hamper to be taken care of later. 

“Wait.” You reach out and touch his forearm, your voice is soft and thick. A frog in your throat, but the frog is a heavy chest and broken dreams.

He pauses, and regards you with a frustratingly neutral expression. 

Your tongue unsticks from your mouth and you bite your lip to keep sobs from trembling out, so that you can say something to make him stay. Something that might make you feel better, even, if that can be managed. 

“Kaveh…” You fight for the words. You can’t say anything awful. Not just for your own sake--you can’t possibly thrust Kaveh entirely away, not here--but because you never know when Alhaitham would rather lecture you on proper respect than acknowledge when he or Kaveh has done something awful to you.

“Kaveh lied.” That’s what you decide on. It's a fact, and surely not something that you can get in trouble for saying. "Why... why did he do that?"

Alhaitham sighs. At first, you don’t think he’ll say anything. You think he’ll remove your hand from his arm and go get you dressed and tell you to read a book and be quiet.

But he does speak. And what he says takes you aback.

“He should not have lied to you.” He talks down to you even now, the same way he does when he’s instructing you on what you should be doing that day, or how you should sit or how you should eat. For the moment, it doesn’t bother you, because he's clearly on your side. Your side!

“The moment you asked to go to the festival, he should have told you no.” 

A pause, and his voice lowers. There’s something akin to softness in his tone. Maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe you’re so desperate for sweetness that you’re placing the gentle curves of Kaveh’s voice into the man before you. 

“Letting you get your hopes up like that was very cruel of him.”

And you nod--you nod, for once, agreeing with Alhaitham, and you’re so busy looking downcast that you don’t see the pleasant surprise that flickers in his expression for a moment. 

You don’t think before you move. You just do it. You step forward and wrap your arms around his back, pressing your head against his chest, the same way you do to Kaveh when  you need comfort. Which is often. 

Alhaitham is not one for gentle embraces and soft hugs. But you hear him sigh, an annoyed, resigned thing, and you feel his hand pat your back. Just the once. He doesn’t stroke it or pull you close and cluck and coo, but there’s something comforting about the solid weight of his chest underneath you.

His hand, too, is what breaks you again. You cry pitifully into his chest, turning your face this way and that, getting his clothing wet with hot tears and probably snot that he will make you clean up later.

“I… I…” What do you want to say? What can you say? You think about your outfit, the carefully embroidered flowers, the painfully tight stitching that took you hours upon hours. An outfit you sweat and quite literally bled for, the callused little pinpricks on your finger pads as proof.

“I worked hard on my outfit,” you say, squeezing Alhaitham tighter as your voice gets thinner and pinched. “I really did.” 

You worked hard on it, because it was your ticket to something you wanted, and what was the crux? It was something for you, for once. Not Kaveh. Not Alhaitham. You were going to run around that festival and breathe in the smell from the food stands and ask them to win you prizes and enjoy the exhilarating pounding in your chest from the fireworks at the end of the night. 

Every stitch you made was one step closer to that. Only it wasn’t. Only it was for nothing at all. And now you’re sobbing in a bathroom while Alhaitham listens, letting you cry it out, and what was any of it for? 

You’re about to pull away when Alhaitham hums underneath you. 

“The embroidery was well done.”

Your breath feels like it stops, and there’s a soft, stuttering sort of gasp that escapes your mouth. Alhaitham… never compliments you. Not like that. Not in a way that you can hold onto and carry with you. 

You pull back, sniffling, wiping at your face with your hands as you stare up at him. 

“It… it was?” You gulp down your cries, and your eyes widen, and you want so much from him in this moment that you don’t know what to do.

He nods, and his hands push you away a little, holding onto your arms with his fingers wrapped around your upper arms. Not to get you away from him, but to steady you, you think. To keep you firm in his embrace, and not the other way around.

“Yes. The stitches were remarkably straight. And you managed the flowers without having to redo them.” 

You offer a tearful smile. 

“I-I read about the flower techniques in the book you gave me about sewing, after I asked for some supplies.”

And is that a smile of his own? Aimed at you, no less? It makes you swallow your tears in the same way Kaveh’s kisses might have done. 

“Good. You should always take the time to read the books I give you. It’s better for your education.”

And you, weepy thing, distraught thing, nod again. Yes, Alhaitham. You’re right, Alhaitham. 

He does pull away this time, and regards you with a look that might almost be described as pleased. 

“Come. We will get you dressed and then you can sit with me while I read.”

And you, wiping at your tears, catching a stray bit of makeup that didn’t come up with the cloth, nod again. 

You follow him out the door and pretend not to see the figure of Kaveh in the corner of your eye, watching the two of you warily. 

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Life, 7/19/2024 Issue (No.14) ft. Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger Cast Members (translation below)

Publication: July 3, 2024

Iuchi Haruhi x Hayama Yuki x Suzuki Miu Saito Ryu x Soma Satoru x Miyazawa Yu

Iuchi: Sakito grew up in space, so there's something awkward about the way he keeps his distance from people.

Miyazawa: He basically acts by himself. That's why he doesn't spend much time together with everyone. He'll often go and help them out when they're in a tight spot though.

Iuchi: Still, it's amazing how Yu-kun's able to express his awkwardness so accurately. I'm sure this is how I'd be if I were in space my whole life and didn't know anything about Earth.

Suzuki: He's different. Mira's good at closing the distance between people, and yet even I felt overwhelmed, or rather overpowered by his intimidating presence.

Iuchi: That's why I've become much more motivated to do some muscle training. I'm sure there'll be alot of scenes of me standing next to Sakito from now on, so when that happens, I'm afraid I'm going to "lose" because of my appearance (laughs).

Hayama: He's a good stimulant, don't you think? For me, I'm glad to see Violet, a character closer to the color blue join us, as there's already so many bright, reddish colors in Boonboomger (laughs).

Saito: Black's the only one that's neither (laughs). Still, Sakito's cool just from a visual standpoint, isn't he? I've thought that way ever since I first saw the makeup artist doing his hair.

Miyazawa: Ryu and Miu-chan ran over to me and said, "What's Violet like?" (laughs).

Suzuki: We were like, "Oh~!"

Saito: That's right. We were like, "So cool!"

Miyazawa: Both of them said, "So cool!," but as I looked at them, all I could think of was, "They're so cute~" (laughs).

Saito: His purple extensions are nice too. Haruhi said, "Isn't that unfair?!" (laughs).

Iuchi: I wanna wear some too (laughs).

Soma: His character and appearance are both striking. In that sense, although their personalities are completely different, he and Genba may be similar in some ways. Also, for me personally, it was a weight off my shoulders when Zawa-kun (Miyazawa) became the oldest character (laughs).

Miyazawa: In my mind, Satoru's character is the oldest.

Soma: No, absolutely not, that's not possible (laughs).

Iuchi: Still, you two might be abit alike. They've consciously taken away the feeling of being our seniors and made it easy for us to talk with them. That's why they're more like having kind big brothers around.

Miyazawa: You guys just mess around with me though (laughs).

Suzuki: Zawa-kun's being teased the most now, isn't he? It used to be Satorun (Soma).

Soma: That's why I'm doing the teasing now.

Hayama: That's fun too, right?

Soma: It's fun. Zawa-kun takes care of "cleaning up" for us (laughs).

Miyazawa: I mean, all five of them are silly, aren't they? I was put into the group chat, but even there, they were just posting silly comments……multiple times. The next day I was like, "Someone say something in response!" (laughs).

Suzuki: Everyone's just doing whatever they want (laughs).

Hayama: Still, the atmosphere on set has become tense due to Zawa-kun. Everyone's trying not to lose to him.

Saito: I'm looking forward to the story from now on. How will Sakito interact with the other five? There's still alot we don't know about him as a character.

Miyazawa: I think it'll become more apparent in the future that he "has another side to him."

Iuchi: With the addition of Sakito, the relationships among the other five will probably change, and in a good way, we have no idea what the future holds, so I hope you'll continue to watch over us! _

Q: What's something you'd like to have the "Cleaner" resolve?

Iuchi: I'd like him to "clean up" the oil that accumulates in my stomach. I like yakiniku and ramen, and often go out to eat with everyone after filming. However, I'm weak with oil, and always get an upset stomach when I eat too much of it (laughs).

Hayama: Do you clean drains? I'm a cleanly person, so I clean my place atleast once a week. However, I tend to skip the areas that use water, only doing them about once a month…I'd like you to clean them on my behalf (laughs).

Suzuki: Mira's always showing her legs, so I'm working hard on muscle training every day. However, there are times where I just can't be bothered. I'd like you to take care of this "troublesome spirit of working out"!

Saito: I always fall asleep as soon as I get home. This is why I always put off cleaning…Some days it's clean, but on average it's pretty dirty, so I'd like you to clean my entire room (laughs).

Soma: Because of my thin chest, I want to build muscle. I like to move my body, but I'm the same as Miu-chan, and there are days where I'm not motivated to work out, so I'd like to have those feelings taken care of.

Miyazawa: I wish there was something I could do for all the things the five of them said (laughs). Speaking of, I was recently taken out to play futsal by Satoru. I've been wanting to go out and play it for a long time, so I was finally able to "clean up" that desire!

[micksture]

hello i’m back on the grind and today i bring you the fullbody refs i nearly did a backflip over 🌞 hope you’ll like em

notes under the cut

CHARLIE

- Former Princess of Hell. She resigned from her role and place in the royal home because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her dream of redeeming Sinners. Her parents had different plans and expectations for her, and deem her as an embarrassment. Charlie lived in a dingy apartment and worked a couple of jobs for a few years to gather money. She struggled, but she finally earned enough to afford an empty, run down building. At the start, she and the gang will have to start rebuilding and renovating it to make the hotel she planned to build :p

- More goat motifs (ears, nose, horns, pupils, legs and hooves)

- Doll-like joints, which make her movements awkward and robotic at times

- Fangs and buck teeth <3

- Fluffy, puffy hair!!! The color is a mix of Lucifer’s hair back when he was still an angel (golden) and the hair he has now, after falling (red)

- One snake on each side of her head. Both of them are different species and have different personalities. They’re also super venomous, but she doesn’t rlly use that ability

- A mole under her left eye because I just couldn’t help myself hehe

- Tail that she can’t retract and has all the time. It’s a bit too short and just bothers her most of the time by accidentally knocking stuff over

- A blue ‘blouse’ (it’s actually a long sleeve top with buttons printed onto it, kinda like those silly faux tuxedo t-shirts) and shoes with accents of the same color, as any variant of blue is a vital part of the very loose dress code for the hotel’s workers. She also wears blue earrings and always adds a bit of blue to her makeup :3

- Other than that I think her outfit is pretty much similar? At least to the Pilot one

- I tried to sneak in some hearts to her design and just overall make her look friendly and awkward lolz

VANHI

- Former Exorcist angel. She gained consciousness during an extermination and was discarded solely because of that fact. Exorcists are programmed to be killing machines that feel nothing and don’t ask questions, so when they gain consciousness (which is very rare), their higher ups – so Lute and Adam – get rid of them. Vanhi was found by Charlie two days later, miraculously still alive. Charlie rushed her back to her apartment and slowly nursed her back to health, recognising her as an angel, but not an Exorcist. They’ve known each other for 3 yrs now, and they took some time to grow fond of each other but they’re getting there

- Obviously, the name change… She did used to be called Vaggie (when she was still an angel), changed it after being banished from the holy troops and left behind in Hell

- STRRRONG 💪💪💪💪 probs the strongest one out of the main six characters, at least physically

- Lots of scars all over her body from previous battles

- Long teased hair put up in a high ponytail for practical reasons. The black tips are dyed. Also RACOON TAIL!!!!!!!!

- Some moth motifs, like the antennas that mimic a bow and also her hair kinda resembles the wings of a moth when it is down.

- A funky ahoge (I think that’s what it’s called..) that looks like a halo :3

- A different eyepatch + protective gloves

- She wears a pink and white striped pullover under her blue shirt and she also has mismatched socks 👾

- Angelic spear, obvi.. its’ handle is a little bent in the middle, because Adam tried to snap it in half for dramatic effect and failed LMFAOJEBW BOZO

ANGEL DUST

- He’s a famous pornstar under Valentino’s contract, and he has been for some time now. Before that, he’d perform in clubs

- Lots of Valentino’s influence in his choice of clothing: shorts, boots, the black top, pink gloves + fur scarf, rings and the collar. The only thing that wasn’t gifted to him by the overlord is the pinstriped shirt and hat that he’s had since the very arrival in Hell. ALSO SHOUTOUT TO MY FRIEND FOR THIS IDEA: the buttons on his suit are little flies because he’s a spider!!!!!!

- Six eyes, four arms (but he can also grow out two more), pedipalps and abdomen to rlly play into the spider theme

- His teeth are stained with Val’s red saliva

- He has lots of toned pink spots all over his body. I couldn’t rlly decide on an exact design for his markings and I felt like there was already a lot happening on him so I just went with little pink speckles

- Very fluffy :v

ALASTOR

- Powerful Overlord that came back from his seven years of radio silence to invest in the biggest flop of a project in Hell and stick around, seemingly just to laugh at its’ failure

- Toned down colors yay

- Long, pinstriped crimson suit worn over a beige dress shirt, 1930s inspired shoes (they still have the silly hoof prints on the bottom don’t worry) and a tie because I’m sick of the bazillion bowties 👿👿👿

- Voice box located between the top of the knot of his tie and the bottom of his high neck ruff. He often uses it to speak without moving his mouth

- The two sharp ridges that peek from under his neck ruff and have a white glow to them are actually a part of a collar. He’s forced to wear it because of his deal. It’s made of angelic metal, so he can’t really take it off anyway

- For the deer features, I changed his ears to be a little more deer-like, made his antlers bigger and gave him a deer nose :p He has a tail and hooves too but he hides them as much as possible

- No fuckass bob 🙏

- Couldn’t help myself and gave him a pencil mustache 🕴️

- Staff inspired by a 1930s microphone. It can be shortened to a regular mic or expanded to work as a cane!! It's a sentient being and it often adds to situations/conversations by playing sound effects. And yes it does have tiny antlers hehe

- Different monocle

- Some green accents because his magic is green idk

HUSK

-A former Overlord, long past his prime. His enjoyment of Alastor’s 7 year absence was short lived – now, he has to deal with even more annoying people in the hotel. He works the bar and because of Charlie’s request he’s allowed to only fix up mocktails instead of real alcoholic drinks

- Based his design on a mainecoon cat, so he’s super fluffy. Lots and lots of fur, which is unkempt because he gave up on trying to care for it a while ago

- Owl wings. His right wing is clipped (because of the deal with Alastor) and he can no longer fly. He can’t even expand this wing to its’ full length without having to painfully strain it to get it to move out even a little bit

- boy why u so eyebrow…….

- I live for chubby Husk <3

- A bunch of scars

- A rough beard and a droopy mustache

- A stained, patterned blue shirt with rolled up sleeves and a missed button at the top, tiny magician hat, black pants + suspenders and a green cloth to wipe empty glasses

- Give this poor man a break…

NIFFTY

- Used to work at a tailor shop and one day, she came across Alastor when he went in to get his suit fixed after a fight. Rather than being presented with a deal offer, she offered her soul to him herself. He agreed, of course, but he was so weirded out by this that he decided to spare her life to further observe her antics. They’ve grown fond of each other and now have a father-daughter relationship of sorts

- I rlly leaned into the idea of her being a bug… She’s a grasshopper/ant mix, so she has antennae and mandibles

- Fluffy, glowy hair that she curls with hair rollers every day

- Green eye (same shade as her dress)

- Freckles :3

- Big patterned dress, a matching head scarf, blue apron and blue cleaning gloves

[yuurei20]

Hello!! Sorry if this is a little something out of your wheelhouse but I keep seeing people say Yana said in a tweet that the Twst’s story will continue after the current main story arc. Do you know if she actually said it or have a link to that tweet? It feels like an urban legend and idk if I can believe it without seeing it for myself. Thanks if you get around to answering this and if not then have a good night/afternoon/morning!

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

There has been no explicit statement released by Yana, Aniplex or anyone on the direction of the main story (that I have been able to find), which makes sense!

According to the interviews we have, plans/ideas/characters are changing all the time behind the scenes (sometimes long after development has begun), so someone saying "these are our plans for the future!" at any time would be very unwise. It is a volatile industry!

Proving that something has happened is much easier than proving something has not (which is likely why a lot of these rumors get so popular), but I can certainly share the things that we know have been said! ^^

I reviewed the two official interviews that Yana has given on Twst, one published in the Magical Archives game guide in 2020 and one posted to the Apple Store in 2023, and here are all the comments that might be meant to relate to future endeavors!

・"I wrote this story with the intention of developing mutual understandings through such clashes. So no matter where this story goes, it will never be about forgiveness or saving someone."

・"I would like to have raid battles where players fight together. The theme of the game is 'making problem children cooperate with each other,' so I feel that such an addition to the gameplay would allow us to better feel the growth of the characters."

・"I would also like to collaborate with other Disney productions. The characters in 'Twisted Wonderland' are also Disney characters, so I don't know if collaboration is the right word."

・"I would also like to continue to dress the characters up in gorgeous outfits. I have so many ideas for what kind of fashion I want them to wear, what kind of makeup I want them to try…there are so many things I want to do."

・"As long as villains are the basis for these characters, I think it is important that they never become overly good people."

・"However, I am sure that more and more events are going to be held in the future, so I am wondering if parallel and ‘if’ worlds are going to start appearing."

・"The text of the first book is 35,000 Japanese characters long but book 6 has over 250,000. Up until about book 3 users are still getting to know the characters, so we prioritized helping people come to understand the world of Twst and keeping things compact. After the game was released, however, it felt like people were reading much more deeply into the story than we had anticipated. So now I include much more information than was provided during those setup chapters."

・Going forward things are going to be on a much larger scale, incorporating not only the vertical and horizontal axes of the story but also expanding upon elements such as a present, past and future. Look forward to Book 7 (currently on chapter 2)!

・"We will continue to develop this game that emphasizes the spirit of villains that cannot be discouraged, and we hope that our users will continue to enjoy it.”

・"Thank you so much for playing Twisted Wonderland. We will continue to do our best to make this game into something that can add a little more fun and color to your daily lives."

I have seen fan-rumors before of maybe an RSA arc, or perhaps the 4th years being introduced, or even the current class graduating to welcome a new wave of 1st-year students, but they are all unproven theories ^^ Very fun to think about, but unofficial!

[rorywritesjunk]

Let’s be one another’s present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: R-ish for now. Warning: Swearing, brief mentions of expecting assault, Rory doesn't know anything about makeup and here is more makeup. A kiss. A/N: This story is opposite of my Kid Buggy series and I love that for myself.

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e

Chapter 5

Despite your argument, fight, whatever it was after breakfast, Buggy kept an eye on you as you practiced holding your breath under water with one hand at the top of the tank to fish you out if needed. With his hand near you, he made a point of going to various points of the tent, trying to see if he could see your face while you were underwater to validate his reasoning for putting makeup on you.

You really didn't want to but as he said at breakfast, he was in charge. 

And after everyone was done for the evening and the two of you headed back to your shared room, he waited until you changed into dry clothes before sitting you in front of his vanity and pulling out different kinds of makeup. You had a grumpy expression on your face as he looked at various kinds and colors, trying to find something that was colorful and bright while also being waterproof. 

“Turn that frown upside down, Cupcake.” He chuckled as he held up a pink eyeliner pencil and knelt in front of you. “I'm going to take care of you, don't worry. The audience will be able to see this gorgeous face of yours all the way in the back row.”

And there it was again, those words he said so freely to you and others, but you had come to hope he actually meant them when he said them to you.

He held your chin to keep your head still as he murmured for you to close your eyes as he held the pencil up. You just stared back at him, looking into his eyes and feeling lost for a moment before he repeated himself and you listened, shutting them tightly as though this was going to be painful.

“Relax, Cupcake.” He said softly as he moved the eyeliner across your eyelids gently, keeping his hand steady so as to keep the line straight and to not poke you. “I got you.”

You swallowed heavily and nodded, though your movements were restricted by him holding you. He was so close to you right then, you could feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his body as he moved the pencil over your other eye. He chuckled softly and let go of your chin so you opened your eyes.

“Looking good already.” He told you as he looked for the next piece. “This eyeliner says it's waterproof so we will have to try it out later, maybe when you take a bath or something.”

You just nodded, watching as he checked the labels on various mascaras and other things that he had. It made you wonder if he used all of this stuff himself or if he just accumulated it all over time.

“I know your schtick is to wear that old Marine uniform, but I wouldn't say no to seeing you in that mermaid tail.” He told you as he looked back over at you. “You don't have to wear that clamshell top if you don't want to, either be topless or wear something else.”

“It may be hard to get in and out of the tank with the fins.” You pointed out as he took hold of your chin again. You jumped a little at his touch and he immediately pulled his hand back. “Sorry, uh, you can keep doing that.”

He looked into your eyes for a moment, looking for any signs of discomfort before he took your chin in his hand again before he started with the mascara. In reality, if he gave you the makeup he wanted to use you could have applied it yourself, but he never gave you the chance. He just took charge of the situation, much like your haircut, and… you kind of liked it.

Of course you weren't going to say anything. 

“Someone can lift you out.” He said as he set the mascara aside. “We'll figure something out to add some flashiness to your act “

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. “Can I ask you something, Captain?”

“What?” He was looking through different eye shadow palettes, looking for any of them that indicated they could be waterproof. “I'm an open book so ask away.”

“Why are you so against me doing anything risky?” You asked. “And don't give me the shit about the other performers, that's not a valid reason.”

He didn't respond right away, still rummaging through the drawer to find what he needed. You took a chance and leaned forward, touching his arm lightly. He shrugged and looked at you.

“Maybe I don't want you to get hurt.” He said, his voice surprisingly calm as he spoke. “Ever think of that? If something happens to you while you're in the water, I can't help you, so don't suggest shit like that anymore.”

“You always have someone watching me though.” You frowned. “You can stage someone to be ready to help me if something is going wrong.”

“Can I ask you something then?” He asked sharply, his tone surprising you just a bit. You nodded. “Why are you so ready to put yourself in harm's way?”

“I'm… I'm not.” You said as you pulled your hand back.

“You were ready to drown yourself shortly after meeting me.” He pointed out. “And now you're suggesting adding an extra layer of danger to this act. Either you have a death wish or a dark sense of humor, both of which I don't like coming from you.”

You shrugged and looked down at your lap. “‘s how I'm coping.”

“Coping with what?” He sighed as he found a bright green eyeshadow that may be waterproof. 

“Being here.” You mumbled. “And processing everything, like going from feeling like I was going to be killed by you when I first met you to you having a cup of tea for me. You even let me sleep in your bed last night and… you didn't do anything.”

“What were you expecting me to do?” Buggy asked as he grabbed a brush for the eyeshadow. “Hm?”

You didn't look at him and shrugged. “Take advantage of me.”

“Glad to know you think so highly of me.” He muttered as he grabbed you by the chin again, still as gentle as before, as he held the brush tinged with the green powder. “I'd hope you trust me enough to close your eyes for me.”

“I trust you.” You said a little quickly before closing your eyes. “It… it's just taking time.”

“Hm, well, I have plenty of time.” Buggy said as he smoothed the brush over your eyelids carefully. He muttered something about the powder getting everywhere and before you knew it, his thumb was moving around your eye, removing the excess. You found yourself leaning into his touch for a moment, only to open your eyes when he pulled his hand back. “You good, Cupcake?”

You didn't realize how much you had leaned into him because your hand was on his chest and your face was inches from him.

“I…am good.” You pulled back from him, leaning as far into your seat as possible. “Sorry. Distracted.”

Buggy said nothing as he set the mascara down and looked for lipstick next. Your heart was pounding and you were feeling embarrassed. You needed to get a grip because you just spoke of him not taking advantage of you, but what were you doing just now? Leaning into his touch, getting close to him, he was going to think you were up to something and then what? You'd end up tossed out on your ass. He didn't want you in that way, he was your boss. He kidnapped-slash-rescued you from a shitty situation and you felt like you were throwing yourself at him.

“Better a distraction now than when you're in the water.” He muttered as he picked up a bright yellow lipstick. “Let's try this.”

You let him take charge once more, holding you by the chin as he dabbed the yellow color over your lips. You didn't get to smooth it over your lips because Buggy's thumb was there, dragging the color over your lips to even it out. Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to the pad of his thumb, only to feel horrified that you just did that. Either he didn't notice or he did and chose not to say anything, because he pulled his hand back when he was done.

“One more thing, Cupcake, then you're done.” 

You looked up at him, wondering what else he wanted to do to you. He looked at you for a moment before one hand grabbed the front of your shirt and the other hand went to the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You stiffened, not expecting that, but you soon relaxed as your hands went to his head, cupping his face as you returned the kiss. 

This was not what you expected to happen.

He pulled back just a bit, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he looked over your makeup. There was red around your mouth, accenting the yellow, and he smirked at the additional color.

“I think this will work for you, y’know.” He chuckled as he pulled his hands away. “I like the red on you.”

~

You barely slept. Buggy mentioned the possibility of another storm and you were in his bed again for the night. He wasn't lying and while it wasn't as loud and violent as the previous night, you appreciated that you were able to burrow under the blankets on his bed as the wind howled and the rain pounded outside. He was in bed beside you, sleeping on his side facing you, seemingly not bothered by the noise outside like you were. 

It was just weird to be in his bed again. Are you friends now? What was this? He was still your boss but the fact he kissed you earlier had you starting to question some things. Was he just being a tease, or did he have some kind of feelings for you that you yourself were starting to question? Did you like him or, as you mentioned earlier, are you just coping with the change in your life? 

You two certainly argued and raised your voices enough at each other that it was weird if you didn't call him an asshole at least once a day or if he didn't end your practice by dunking your head under water. 

You pulled your head out from under the blankets just enough to look over at him. He definitely looked peaceful as he slept, and you liked the sight of his hair down and his face free of makeup. It was hard not to reach out and run your fingers through his hair, wanting to see if it was as soft as it felt, but that was a risk you didn't want to take.

“What?” He grumbled as he opened his eyes. “It's weird being stared at when I'm trying to sleep.”

“Oh, fuck, um… nothing. Sorry.” You replied quietly as you curled up away from him. “Couldn't sleep and…”

“Got distracted?” Buggy grinned sleepily. “By me? Am I too distracting for you?”

“N-No, shush.” You glared at him as your cheeks turned red, but thankfully it was too dark for him to notice. “Go back to sleep, asshole.”

“Hard to when your eyes are on me like that, y’know.” He chuckled. “Feels like you’re undressing me with your eyes, Cupcake. Kind of scandalous to look at your Captain that way.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Your face was burning now. “I am going to smother you with a pillow, Buggy.”

He just smirked at you, almost daring you to even attempt it. Grumbling, you chose to hide your face against your pillow instead. No, no, you weren’t going to smother him while he slept. He was half asleep and being dumb, that was it, trying to rile you up to have you wanting to fight him before you fell asleep. 

“Just don’t try to kiss me when I go back to sleep.” He told you as he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around as he pulled you against him. “I’d like to be awake for that.”

You wondered if you could just die right then and there from this entire conversation.

[serotonins-stuff]

"Bend over f'me?" | K.bakugo

~ slight nsfw

♡︎ Sypnosis: In which you ask your boyfriend for some fashion advice on Facetime but he can't handle the heat.

♡︎ F! Reader

♡︎ Mdni

♡︎ Aged up characters ofc

(Lowkey feel like Bakugo would actually give good fashion advice.)

Mina invited you to a night out with the girls but you had absolutely no idea what to wear. The only other option you had was to facetime your boyfriend Bakugo for some advice.

"How do I look Katsu?" you asked standing in front of the camera. Currently you were wearing the sleeveless black turtleneck that Bakugo chose. It was really short and squeezed you in all the right places. What Katsuki loved about it most is that it had an open back.

He didn't want to help you do this because he knew he wouldn't be able to conatin himself.

"Why are you so pretty woman?" He groaned in frustration causing you to giggle at him. "Do you really have t'go?"

You knew he was getting hot and bothered, you would help him through the screen if it wasn't going to result in you being late.

"Yes I do" you said pulling out your makeuo bag "What, do you have something better in mind?"

"Yeah I do, and it's better than some lame party" he scoffed.

"And what would that be?"

"For starters, you could come over to my place so we can watch a movie. Then halfway through, I'll put my hand on your thigh and we'll start making out and shit then suddenly,my face will be between your soft and sweet-."

"Kat" you warned him with a giggle "behave"

He shrugged his shoulders. "How can I when you're lookin so pretty?"

"Stop being a horndog and help me pick shoes." You wagged your finger at the screen.

"Black boots obliviously, and those nice see through stockings you've got"

You collected the items he listed and appeared in front of the camera one more time and he let out a satisfied hum.

"It's missin somethin" he raises a brow, looking intensely at his screen. "Lemme see the back?"

You do as you were told and turn around, facing your backside to the camera.

"Bend over f'me?"

"Kat you better no-"

"Stop yappin and do it, I wanna see something"

You sighed and shook your head with a scoff, bending over to reveal the black tights that you wore underneath.

"Baby what's the point of this" you shrugged your shoulders dramatically.

"Just wanna make sure no one will be able to sneak a peak" he took a bite of the snack he was eating, letting out a little huff of laughter "And I also just wanted to stare at your ass"

"Why am I suprised" you stood upright taking the phone over to your vanity table to ally makeup. "What lipstick color should I choose?"

"Red" he said with no hesitation at all. To you he was just helping you choose a lipstick color but to him it meant so much more. He so desperately wanted to see that red lipstick smugged all over his chest and shoulders while you beg him to go faster. Your beautiful sounds making his mind go haywire. Maybe he could even-

"You still there?" you cut off his lewd thoughts when you heard him go quiet and his breathing pattern changed.

"Yeah I am" he paused immediately, realizing that he had been palming himself through his sweatpants the whole time. The big bulge that formed was definitely hard for him to ignore. His balls were aching and it hurt to move them.

He'd have to take the longest shower on earth.

"Were you touching yourself just now?" You mused.

"And what if I was?"

"Ok here's a deal, after you fetch me from the party how about we go back to your place and have some fun?"

He whinned impatiently from the other side "Only if you promise not to get drunk"

"I promise"

"If sense the tinest bit of drunk from ya, I'm sending your ass to sleep got it?"

"I get it Katsuki"

He was still shifting uncomfortablly just watching you get ready, you hips swaying whenever you stood up and your bare back asking to be broken.

When you were finally done he couldn't help but let a sigh of relief escape him.

"I'll see you later ok?" You blew a kiss to him and he caught it

"Call me when you're done, and make to take your pepperspray" he said

He knew your were fully capable of taking care of yourself. Which is why he trusted you going out. He's seen you kick ass first hand and he wasn't disappointed.

"Don't miss me too much" you teased once more.

"Already am" he sighed and the call ended.

This was going to be a long night.

Thank you for the support!!

Requests are open!!

[aspoonofsugar]

Blake Belladonna's Design

This is a quick appreciation of our Cat Girl's design. Its objective is to offer a short analysis by incorporating elements of other metas. Ideally, the end result will be something similar to Yang's post. Finally, this is the final piece of my mid-summer Blake meta spree :) So, enjoy!

JUST ANOTHER CAT GIRL?

Blake's design plays with the idea of "cat girl". Cat girls are common in anime and mangas, but are often overly sexualized. In particular, cat ears are usually presented as an overly cute trait and sometimes a fetish.

RWBY takes this idea and subverts it in 2 ways.

Blake's ears are initially hidden, so that her affinity with cats gets highlighted through other aesthetical elements:

Gambol Shroud's ribbon resembles a cat's tail and it being a whip may reference the infamous cat o' nine tails

She decorates her eyes with cat eye makeup

She is able to make copies of herself, which get jokingly referred to as copycats

In Mistral she wears leg boots, which bring to mind Puss in Boots

In Atlas she wears a catsuit

Blake's cat trait becomes a core part of her identity, which is explored on a double level:

It represents her faunus heritage, which makes her different from humans and discriminated

It is a symbol of Blake's troubled past and of her involvement with the White Fang

So, Blake covers her cat ears to run from both society and herself. Just like a scaredy cat ;)

As you see, with some limitations and worldbuilding, Blake manages to be a cat girl with much depth to her. Still, there is more to her cat design.

FROM CALICO TO TUXEDO

Let's juxtapose Blake's initial concept art with her final design:

What changes is the cat used as the main inspiration.

In the initial concept art it is the calico cat (tricolor cat):

In the final character design it is the tuxedo cat (bicolor cat):

Why the change? Let's explain it by highlighting one similarity (1) and one difference (2) between the two kitties.

1- Both cats are called after a type of cloth:

Calico is a fabric, which originates in India (the set of the Jungle Book - Blake's secondary allusion) and is famous for its colorful printed patterns. I wouldn't be surprised if Blake's clothes in the concept art were meant to be calico made.

Tuxedo is a formal wear, which consists of a black suit over a white shirt and a bow tie. Well, Blake's final design is a revisitation of the traditional tuxedo with a shorter jacket and a bow worn in the hair, instead than as a tie.

The idea of "cloth" is heavily used in Blake's design, which may be one of the reasons why the tuxedo is eventually chosen. This kitty, thus, offers a pretty poignant metaphor.

It all starts with Gambol Shroud, where shroud means a piece of cloth that conceals or protects:

Here come two thoughts:

Blake's bow is her shroud which is why it resembles her weapon’s ribbon (same color and similar material). The bow is the ears, while the ribbon is the tail. Together they complement Blake’s cat design.

Some tuxedo cats are called tuxedo masks because it is as if a black mask covers their whole faces. It is easy to see how this concept fits Blake, who conceals herself thanks to a little piece of fabric.

Basically, Blakes's bow is her tuxedo tie, which is worn as a mask.

2- The two cats differ when it comes to their color:

The calico is a tricolor cat, which is mostly known as having a white coat with some orange and black patches

The tuxedo is a bicolor cat, which has white and black fur

These two color patterns are another reason why Blake has been characterized as a tuxedo instead than a calico. As a matter of fact the black and white dychotomy fits our beautiful faunus girl more.

WHITE AND BLACK = BEAUTY AND BEAST

In old English, Blake's name means both black and white. As a result, she is linked to both colors, which tie with her light and shadow motif:

Blake is associated to the twilight because it is where light and shadow meet. What's more, her musical theme is built on this duality. She starts in the shadows and climbs her way up towards the light.

Well, Light and Shadow are linked to two Jungian Archetypes:

The Light is the persona, so what is shown to others

The Shadow is what is repressed, so the hidden parts

And these two archetypes are explored in The Beauty and The Beast:

The Beauty is the light - she is beautiful, lovable and accepted

The Beast is the shadow - he is ferocious, scary and misunderstood

So, Blake's own allusion can be read as the integration of beauty and beast, light and shadow, so that a new unit (a new individual) is born. This is also Blake's arc in a nutshell. She starts as a shadow because she hides herself, but with time she steps into the light and shows the world who she is.

In other words, Blake's Beauty and Beast allusion is referenced in her appearence not only in her nature as a faunus, but in her color scheme too. She is both beauty and beast, light and shadow, white and black.

This is also why these two colors are incorporated in respectively Sun and Ilia.

Sun is white, as he leads Blake towards the light:

Ilia is black, as she forces Blake to face her own shadows:

Through them Blake integrates her shadows and stops hiding:

This is why her design changes in Mistral in two notables ways:

She gives up her bow once and for all

She wears a white jacket over a black top

These two details mirror Blake's inner journey. She learns to show herself more, so her ears get to be out in the open and the light (white) surfaces. In Beacon, instead, the ears are concealed and Blake is wrapped in shadows (black).

Ironically, this means Blake's design loses the core traits of her tuxedo cat inspiration. As a matter of fact she has no bow tie anymore and the color pattern is inverted, which doesn't work. Why this choice? It is because Blake is going from Beast (black + cat) to Beauty (white + individual). Symbolically, this happens as she shows her faunus trait more openly:

She grows more beautiful (human) as she openly embraces her beast side (cat).

GOLD, BLUE AND PURPLE = HOT, COLD AND JUST RIGHT

The shift from calico to tuxedo brings some consequences to Blake and Yang's complementary designs.

Let's compare the bees exploratory ideas:

As people have noticed, Blake and Yang are aesthetically and symbolically linked since early on.

Here, we have:

Blake with one gold eye and one blue eye

Yang with a blue bandana

This chromatic choice ties into Yang's allusion and design. As a matter of fact our Goldilocks uses colors to represent the too hot, too cold and just right. Specifically:

red/orange is the too hot

blue/green is the too cold

purple (blue + red) is the just right

So, in the picture above Yang's looks play with the dychotomy between too hot and too cold. This same duality is mirrored in Blake:

She is both too hot (gold eye) and too cold (blue eye)

She wears much gold in general (Yang's main color)

The idea is clear. Blake is Yang's hot and cold. In particular, she brings some needed blue in Yang's life. She helps Goldilocks cool down and become more balanced. Similarly, Blake proudly wears Yang's golden tones, as she has to grow more like her Golden Beauty.

So, how have these ideas evolved in Blake’s final design?

Blake has gained a strong association with purple, which makes her Yang's just right

Blake's color scheme has ditched gold in favor of silver, which makes her and Yang complementary

Blake's link to purple is interesting because this color calls back to her family and to the surname Belladonna (beautiful woman in Italian). In other words, it is connected to both Ghira's legacy and her Beauty side. So, it is not a surprise that Blake grows more purple in each arc:

She is slowly blooming into Yang's just right by reconciling with her legacy and by becoming a person worthy of our golden girl.

This transformation is highlighted also by Blake integrating some gold into her:

In both her Vale and Atlas's designs Blake is linked to silver, so that she can complete Yang's gold. Still, in Mistral she has some gold details because this is the arc where she integrates her missing parts. This integration ends with Adam's death and Blake's rebirth:

So, Blake's design tells a story of inner growth, which leads her to stand beside Yang as an equal:

Blake: She's not protecting me, Adam. And I'm not protecting her. We're protecting each other.

This theme is important for Blake's Cat Girl archetype. Cat Girls, thus, are often reduced to love interests, but Blake's arc is a deconstruction of this idea. What would happen if the male partner of a Cat Girl is abusive? Blake explores this concept and tells a story of liberation and development, which ends with a reconstruction of the trope. Our Cat Girl ends up in a happy relationship, but not as a shallow prize. Rather as a winner.

BEASTS, LIONS AND WOLVES

In conclusion, Blake's design alludes to the Beauty and Beast on three levels:

Society= Blake is both human (beauty) and animal (beast)

Couple = Blake and Yang are drawn as complementary

Individual = Blake is both white (light) and black (shadow)

Still, this is not the only fairy tale our Cat Girl ties into thanks to her animal features. Here come three examples.

Blake is Bagheera's daughter and a small panther (a cat) in the Jungle Book

Blake is a Scaredy Cat to Lioneheart's Cowardly Lion. Except that of course the cat is braver than the lion

Blake is Ruby's black beast in team RWBY's LRRH team allusion

This last reference is foreshadowed since Red Like Roses:

Black the beast descends from shadows.

After all, the Beowolves appear when Blake's line comes up.

Moreover, Blake's secondary allusions all come together to strongly link our Black Shadow to wolves. In the Jungle Book, Mowgli is raised by wolves, just like Blake grows up in the White Fang. The name of the group itself calls back to wolves, as it references the title of Jack London's book about a half-dog half-wolf, who fights to be accepted by humans.

Finally, it turns out Blake is not the only Cat, who turns out to be a Wolf:

In short, Blake's design lets her freely move between allusions and references. Not only that, but it is crafted to add depth and thematic resonance to her character and her arc. Not bad for just another Cat Girl, uh?