#party makeup services at home

[alkzoi]

Hire Commercial Makeup Shoot Artist in Jaipur

If you're searching for a skilled and experienced commercial makeup shoot artist, look no further than Alkzoi. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for creating stunning looks, our team of makeup artists specializes in commercial shoots and understands the unique requirements of the industry.

Experience and Expertise

We take pride in our experience and expertise in the field of commercial makeup. Our makeup artists have worked on numerous commercial projects, including fashion shoots, advertising campaigns, and product launches. We stay up-to-date with the latest trends and techniques to ensure that our clients receive top-notch services.

Customized Makeup Looks

We understand that each commercial shoot has its own theme and requirements. That's why our makeup artists work closely with clients to create customized makeup looks that align with their vision. Whether you're aiming for a natural and fresh look or a bold and avant-garde style, we can bring your ideas to life.

High-Quality Products

we believe that using high-quality makeup products is essential for achieving flawless results. We only use premium brands and products that are known for their long-lasting and photo-friendly formulas. Our makeup artists have extensive knowledge of different products and their suitability for various skin types.

Professional and Reliable

When you hire us for your commercial makeup shoot in Jaipur, you can expect a professional and reliable service. Our team arrives on time and is well-prepared with all the necessary tools and products. We work efficiently to ensure that the makeup process runs smoothly and fits within the shoot schedule.

Client Satisfaction

Our primary goal is to ensure client satisfaction. We prioritize open communication and actively listen to our clients' preferences and concerns. Our makeup artists are skilled in enhancing natural features while keeping the overall vision of the shoot in mind. We strive to exceed expectations and deliver results that make our clients happy.

Photoshoot Makeup Artist in Jaipur

For exceptional makeup services for your photoshoot in Jaipur, We offers a team of talented and creative makeup artists. With our expertise in various styles and techniques, we can help you achieve the perfect look for your photos.

Understanding Your Vision

We understand that a photoshoot requires specific makeup techniques to ensure that you look your best in front of the camera. Our makeup artists take the time to understand your vision for the shoot, including the desired mood, theme, and overall style. We collaborate with you to create a makeup look that enhances your features and complements the overall concept.

Professional Guidance

Here, we don't just apply makeup; we also provide professional guidance throughout the process. Our makeup artists offer advice on color palettes, product selection, and skincare routines to help you achieve a flawless and long-lasting look for your photoshoot. We are dedicated to helping you feel confident and look stunning in front of the camera.

Flexible and Versatile

Whether you're planning a fashion photoshoot, a portrait session, or a creative editorial shoot, our makeup artists in Jaipur are experienced in working across various genres. We are adaptable and versatile in our approach, ensuring that the makeup aligns with the specific requirements of the shoot.

Attention to Detail

Details matter when it comes to photography. Our makeup artists pay close attention to every detail, from perfecting the skin texture to creating harmonious color schemes. We use professional-grade products and techniques to ensure that your makeup looks flawless both in person and on camera.

Reliable and Punctual

Alkzoi values professionalism and reliability. When you book our makeup services for your photoshoot in Jaipur, you can trust that we will arrive on time and fully prepared. We understand the importance of adhering to the shoot schedule, and we work efficiently without compromising on quality.

Character Makeup Artist in Jaipur

This is your go-to choice for character makeup in Jaipur. Our skilled and imaginative makeup artists specialize in transforming individuals into various characters, be it for theater performances, cosplay events, or costume parties.

Bring Your Characters to Life

With our expertise in character makeup, we can help you bring your imaginative ideas to life. Whether you want to become a mystical creature, a historical figure, or a beloved fictional character, our makeup artists have the skills to create intricate and realistic makeup looks. We work closely with you to understand your character's unique features and create a makeup design that captures their essence.

Professional Makeup Techniques

Character makeup requires a different set of techniques compared to everyday makeup. Our artists are well-versed in special effects makeup, prosthetics, face painting, and body art. We use professional-grade products that are safe for the skin and designed for long-lasting wear. Our attention to detail ensures that your character makeup looks seamless and authentic.

Collaborative Approach

we believe in collaboration and open communication. We work closely with you to understand your character's backstory, personality, and the overall look you want to achieve. Our makeup artists provide guidance and suggestions based on their expertise, ensuring that the final result aligns with your vision.

Transformative Experience

Character makeup is not just about changing your appearance; it's about embodying a whole new persona. Our makeup artists go beyond the surface and help you step into the shoes of your character. We create makeup looks that not only look incredible but also make you feel the part, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the role.

Party Makeup Artist in Jaipur

When it comes to party makeup in Jaipur, Alkzoi is the name you can trust. Our team of skilled makeup artists specializes in creating glamorous and head-turning looks that are perfect for any celebration or special occasion.

Glamorous and Trendy

We stay up-to-date with the latest makeup trends and techniques. Whether you prefer a natural glow, a bold and Smokey eye, or a statement lip, our makeup artists can create a personalized look that enhances your features and suits the occasion. We ensure that you look and feel you’re best at any party or event in Jaipur.

Customized to Your Style

We understand that everyone has their own unique style and preferences. Our makeup artists take the time to understand your personal style and tailor the makeup accordingly. Whether you prefer a classic and elegant look or something more avant-garde and experimental, we can create a party makeup look that reflects your individuality.

Long-Lasting and Photogenic

Party makeup needs to withstand the test of time and look flawless throughout the event. We use high-quality makeup products that are long-lasting and photo-friendly, ensuring that your makeup remains intact and camera-ready all night long. Our artists employ techniques to ensure that your makeup looks great in person and translates beautifully in photographs.

Efficient and Reliable

Alkzoi values punctuality and efficiency. When you book our party makeup services in Jaipur, you can rely on us to arrive on time and complete the makeup process within a reasonable timeframe. We work efficiently without compromising on quality, allowing you to relax and enjoy the party preparations.

Choose us as your trusted commercial makeup shoot artist, photoshoot makeup artist, character makeup artist, or party makeup artist in Jaipur, and experience the expertise and creativity of our talented team. We are dedicated to making you look and feel you’re best for any occasion or project.

For More Info:-Groom makeup artist in Jaipur

[chatmetainr]

Get a Glamorous Look at Home with Party Makeup Services in Delhi

Achieve a glamorous look right at home with our party makeup services in Delhi. Our skilled professionals will bring out your best features and create a stunning makeup look that will turn heads at any event. Experience the convenience of getting ready for parties without leaving your doorstep, while still looking absolutely fabulous.

[f1shart]

Sims 2 basegame features that you have to pay for in the sims 4 (growing list)

actual memories (Growing Together)

buying groceries (Cottage Living)

food poisoning (Dine Out)

catching a cold (Seasons)

romantic bed interactions (Lovestruck)

aliens/mpreg (Get to Work)

dartboard (Get Together) (edit: later part of the battle pass???)

buying clothes (Get to Work)

hot tubs (Perfect Patio Stuff; later a basegame update - we'll get to that)

dancing skill (Get Together)

military career (Strangerville)

doctor career (Get to Work)

science career (Get to Work)

politics career (City Living)

toilet stalls (Discover University)

play american football (High School Years) edit: comes with ts2 free time

money tree (Seasons)

yoga (Spa Day)

swings (Seasons)

changing table (Growing Together)

buffet table (Luxury Party Stuff)

cash register (Get to Work)

graveyard? (Cats & Dogs)

diving board (Get Together)

gaming console (City Living)

inheritance (Eco Lifestyle)

toaster oven (Dream Home Decorator)

champagne (My Wedding Stories)

repo-man (Discover University)

remote control car (Discover University)

ground stargazing (Outdoor Retreat)

couple ground stargazing (Lovestruck)

let's not forget the absolutely shitty state the sims 4 basegame was in when it first released:

Things added to the sims 4 in later updates that were basegame in TS2 and/or TS3

pools and swimwear (both)

ghosts (both)

color slider thing for makeup and skin (TS3)

nanny (both)

hot tubs (TS2)

fears (TS2)

toddlers (both)

family tree (both)

general likes (TS3)

kleptomaniac trait (TS3)

story progression (TS3)

three basegame worlds i know this one is silly idgaf (TS2)

terrain tools (both)

dishwasher (both)

firefighter service (both)

gardener service (TS2)

repairman service (both)

lounge chairs (both)

normal telescope (both)

obviously some of these things are way smaller than others but the fact you need to pay money for BASIC CAREERS like being a fucking doctor or that TODDLERS and POOLS weren't in basegame... come on.

anyway happy pirating and yes im taking suggestions and/or corrections 💚

[bettysupremacy]

hii! I was wondering if you could write a fic with reader and any marauder (they all fit) and maybe helping or becoming protective over the reader after a concert or party after a creep follows the reader? 😭

I went through a similar experience with a guy following me around after I went to the restroom after a concert, and it ruined my night if i'm being honest, I was scared 😞 I'm not the most shy of people and usually I can handle myself but it was pretty dark and idk the adrenaline from feeling happy to scared shifted pretty quickly. Luckily I found my friends and let them know and we quickly went back to our car (along with a few dirty looks from my friends god bless lol). I swore I could go to the restroom by myself- will not be doing that again :(

you can ignore this request if it makes you uncomfortable!

thank uu

i’m so sorry that happened to you! “(they all fit)”= poly marauders!

There’s something about post concert depression, especially when you’re with the band.

Your glitter eyeshadow is smudged, eyeliner untouched. You’d been shaken around in the pit of your boyfriends fans, and yet the paint hasn’t budged. God bless water-proof makeup. The world seems prettier like this, touched by alcohol and the feeling of soaring pride for your boyfriends. The glittery lights and signs of time square never fail to dazzle you, even now as you lean against Sirius morosely.

“M’hungry.” You frown, toes tipping up towards Sirius, though you fear the mumble may have been more for yourself.

His attention is diverted towards the boys as they discuss what to do now. Plans of how to get home and where to eat. His finger taps your cheek slowly, his focus paying you no mind. Words like Uber, hotel, room service echo throughout their very repetitive conversation.

“Sirius.”

He looks down, a little shocked and sorry at his own attention. “Yes, lovely?”

“M’hungry.”

“Hungry?” He asks, cringing. You’re about thirty minutes from the hotel, and even then, room service will take another thirty.

“So hungry.”

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

“There’s a hotdog stand over there.” You grab his tattooed bicep to balance yourself as you point to your right.

He thinks, peering down at you. “This won’t ruin your dinner?” It’s midnight, but still.

“No,” you sing, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I really want a hotdog.

He flushes, looking away from your wandering eyes. Normally he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. They would never let you out of their sight in a place like this. But the cart is in eye view of the boys, and he has faith in you not to stray, even in your inebriated manor. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just prefer to keep you safe themselves. Is that okay?

“Okay,” He murmurs, pulling out his wallet, handing you his card. “At least get the good toppings.”

“I always get the good toppings.” You pull away.

The walk is short and the cart is colorful. Red and white stripes, curvy calligraphy. It shines in your inebriated vision. Beautiful. The queues not long, just an older man waiting in front of you, but it feels like forever as the generous man (with the toppings as well) takes your order and wraps it in warm aluminum foil.

You take the hotdog eagerly. “Thank you.”

It’s heavy in your hands, warm too. You yell Sirius’ name excitedly, waving the hotdog above your head for him to see. He laughs, thumbs up until you bump into a man, smile fading, concern etching his brows.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he smiles. It’s uncomfortable, not the smile of a friendly civilian.

You laugh. It’s polite, anyone can see that, but he leans closer. He smells like liquor, a disgusting discovery that has you subconsciously leaning away.

“You new around here?”

An actual laugh stumbles out of your lips. “London? No.”

He takes this as an entrance. “You should show me around.”

“No, thank you.” You try to walk past him. Towards Sirius who’s already walking over. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, pulling you back. His fingers dig into your elbow painfully.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, pulling your arm away roughly. “don’t touch me.”

“C’mon,” The man slurs, fingers reaching for you again. “Don’t be-“

“Hello?” Sirius walks up, all stock. He grabs your forearm pulling you to him firmly, getting in between you and the man. He’s not much taller, but more intimidating in demeanor. “Do we have a problem?”

“No,” the man scoffs.

“Cause it looks like you put your hands on her.”

He scoffs again, clearly inebriated. “We were just talking.”

“Well, conversations over now.”

“She can make her own decisions.”

“Fuck off, bro.” Sirius waves his hand dismissively. Quickly, he walks you towards the boys who are peeking their eyes up from the Uber app.

“She was asking for it.”

Sirius reels back, dropping your forearm to shove the scary stranger in the chest. He pushes hard, the man losing his balance as he falls to the ground in a sickening thud. You gasp loudly, the unexpected conflict startling you. Vaguely you hear Sirius say something to him, but you’re too focused on the way the man looks up at you.

James and Remus are there in seconds, quick on Sirius’s heels. They pull at him, up and off the man. There were no real punches thrown, no real injuring blows, it wasn’t even enough to form a crowd. But still, you’re shaken. You shiver like a leaf under your James’ leather jacket, suddenly not feeling the warmth of the alcohol you’d consumed before the concert.

Slowly, you stumble back and way from your boys, to the bench next to the shitty bar you’d passed on your way home. That had been scary, but you’re safe; that had been scary, but Sirius dealt with it. You bring your hand up to your chest, setting the hotdog you had been eager to buy down next to you.

“Hi,” Remus pushes aside the hotdog to sit next to you. “Are you okay?”

You look up to the boy, blindingly beautiful in the streetlights and advertisements. “Yes.”

He pushes some stray hair from your face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think it was more startling.” James sits on the other side of you, kissing your temple firmly. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“She’s okay.” Sirius gruffs from where he walks over.

He sounds cooler than he thinks he looks. He’s not bruised, bloodied, or bandaged, if he were he thinks he’d look cool enough to breeze over. But then again you look mad, so maybe he doesn’t want that.

“Don’t be upset,” Sirius crouches to your level. You’re in the arms of a solid Remus. “he was a creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He laughs roguishly. “I thought I looked good tousled.”

He does, and you know he’ll look good on the tabloids tomorrow too. Sirius black gives black eye? You sigh at the thought.

“You do.” James feeds Sirius.

“At least someone in this relationship cares for my ego.”

“You look good.”

“Oh, now you tell me.”

You laugh, letting Sirius stare at you like you hung the moon.

“Kiss em?” He pushes his knuckles in front of your lips. His fingers throb lightly, you can feel it on your lips.

“That was stupid.”

“C’mon,” Sirius’ eyes roll as he pulls you up. “You’ve got a hotdog to eat.”

[chosolala]

⋆˚ʚɞ jjk halloween headcannon

here are just some of my silly headcannons on what i think the jujutsu kaisen guys would wear on halloween because i love halloween so much, some matching costumes too :) also fem!reader.

characters: gojo, geto, choso, toji, nanami, megumi, yuji, inumaki, yuta, maki

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ୨ ♱ ୧ ⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅

satoru gojo

he would probably want to match with you

definitely a nerdy costume like anakin and padme (star wars) or fred and daphne (scooby doo)

he definitely acts like the character he’s dressed as all night

drags you out or to a halloweeen party definitely

suguru geto

i don’t think he’d go all out with a costume but if you wanted to match with him he’d definitely try his best

he just doesn’t want to look stupid

he’d probably put on animal ears or vampire teeth

he’s definitely your biggest admirer when he sees your costume and take a bunch of pictures for you

choso kamo

he would definitely wear whatever you want him to wear with him

i would say edward and kim thought (from edward scissorhands) or chucky and tiffany

he doesn’t really like dressing up but he wouldn’t say anything and he’d wear it anyway for you, especially when he sees how happy it makes you :)

you guys go to a halloween festival together

toji fushiguro

he DEFINITELY would NOT dress up with you 😭

he might let you do sfx makeup on him though

he’d probably encourage you to get a revealing and tight costume and give him like a fashion show when you guys get home

let’s just say you won’t be leaving the house on halloween night…..

kento nanami

he probably wouldn’t want to dress up but if you really want him to he would

maybe something like christine and erik from the phantom of the opera

he would also take you wherever you want to go, halloween party, park, festival, bar, anywhere.

he would probably suprise you with a cute halloween basket too with like candy and stuffed animals and stuff

megumi fushiguro

he would suggest costume ideas but whatever you want to wear he’ll agree to

he’d definitely let you sit in his lap and do his makeup

maybe something like grim and malaria or batman and catwoman (from billy and mandy)

he really doesn’t like parties but he’d go out to a festival with you

yuji itadori

he has the cutest costume ideas, he’s been waiting for this moment

these are literally my FAVS!! i can only imagine him as spider man so maybe miles morales and gwen (from into the spider verse) or like kiki and tombo (from kiki’s delivery service)

you guys take the cutest couple pictures before leaving to meet up with everyone else

he somehow gets double the amount of candy you get

toge inumaki

he probably wouldn’t take dressing up very seriously

he’d probably do something like the chef and the rat from ratatouille (he’s the rat) or beast boy and raven

he uses his cursed speech to get a bunch of candy then ends up leaving early with a stomach ache (karma for stealing from little kids 😭)

he also sneaks some of your candy when you aren’t looking

yuta okkotsu

cutest couple costumes ever without even trying

probably something like coraline and wybie or finn and princess bubblegum (or maybe flame princess idk) from adventure time

gojo takes a bunch of pictures like a proud dad because you guys look so cute

you guys go out to eat then go to a festival

maki zenin

she probably wouldn’t want to dress up but if it makes you happy she’d do it :)

maybe poison ivy and harley quinn or princess bubblegum and marceline costumes

she’ll take you to a festival with the others and wins you a bunch of candy

carries you home if your feet hurt from your heels

[uyuforu]

Hii, how are you doing? I'm loving your astrological interpretations! could you tell us how do you interprete degrees? thank you ^^

Hello! Thank you very much!^^

About degrees. I like to take degrees as "keywords" that can be added as details. It always add details.

Aries (1°, 13°, 25°): fights, war, not giving up, taking action, struggles, abuse, labor, leadership and leader spirit, beginnings, anger, etc.

Taurus (2°, 14°, 26°): money, food, luxury, chilling, the earth, nature, simple life, stability, voice, singing, seducing, etc.

Gemini (3°, 15°, 27°): voice, communication, speaking, languages, new technologies, phones, self-expression, books, learning, being curious, gossips, siblings, neighborhood, humor, witty, smart etc.

Cancer (4°, 16°, 28°): home, mother, nurturing, babies, pregnancy, feminine energy, moon, emotions, traditions, loyalty, food, faith, water, etc.

Leo (5°, 17°, 29°): fame, celebrity, shining, being the center of attention, life of the party, having fun, children, inner child, light, creativity, imagination, laugh, royalty, entertainment, hair, strength, natural leader, easily getting noticed for... etc.

Virgo (6°, 18°): perfectionnist, hardworking, improve, health, routine, detailed oriented, work, pets, to be in service, help, hospitals, mental health, physical health, etc.

Libra (7°, 19°): beauty, fashion, harmony, fairness, law, justice, business, marriage, partnerships, love, makeup, luxury, charm, charisma, music, art, beauty of soul, etc.

Scorpio (8°, 20°): shadow, death, dark side, flaws, s3x, wealth, money, manifestation, rebirth, the spiritual world, intense connections, the unknown, jealousy, pregnancy, night, secrets, etc.

Sagittarius (9°, 21°): philosophy, wisdom, teaching and learning, college, studies, life smart, learning from life and experiences, spontaneous, curious, the spiritual world, traveling, exploring, etc.

Capricorn (10°, 22°): working, hardworking, money, abundance, luxury, cold, royalty, to take control, public attention, fame, fear, father, family, leader, depression, ambition, old etc.

Aquarius (11°, 23°): Spontaneous, humanity, being unique about..., weird, friends, new technologies, social medias, organizations, networking, internet, divorce, surprises, high places, etc.

Pisces (12°, 24°): spirituality, dreams, 5D, esotericism, astrology, psychic abilities, sleep, drugs, alcohol, addictions, the unconscious, emotions, art, poetry, water, madness, shadow work, endings, etc.

0° degree means either it's the same energy (as the house or sign), either there is nothing much to say.

For me, degrees are still needed when we analysis charts, it's very significant sometimes. For example, my mother has vertex in her 5H, and the degree is 29° (Leo). And the year she got me, her vertex was in Leo, with 29°... I'm Leo sun!

Hope it helped :)

- uyu

[thegirlfromblackwater]

PART 1: If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

[tropes-and-tales]

Alone Time

Day 13:  Masturbation (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Frankie is mildly creepy and a thief; pining; smut (masturbation, male; Frankie's imagination; a pinch of voyeurism); 18+ only.

Word Count:  2415

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

It’s not rock bottom, but it’s damned near close.

Other men Frankie’s age have so much more:  family, a mortgage, a steady job.  What does Frankie have?  An ex-wife, a suspended pilot’s license, and a shaky year’s worth of sobriety.  He’s got a head full of bad memories—his time in the service, Tom’s death, the implosion of his marriage.  He’s got a tricky back that aches in bad weather and pinches his sciatic nerve if he breathes the wrong way.

The sum total of his personal belongings are stored in your garage and in your spare bedroom, where Frankie has been crashing since…well, when he sits and counts out the months, it makes him feel like the world’s biggest asshole loser, so he doesn’t dwell on it.

It was supposed to be a temporary thing.  It’s been ten months.

Hell, it takes less time for a baby to be formed and born.  Frankie Morales?  Ten months of crashing at your place and he’s no closer to launching on his own.  Rent is too high, his credit is abysmal, his mechanic job pays next to nothing, and he’s so damned broke that he’s technically owed alimony (though his pride will not allow him to accept it).

But if he sits and ticks off all the reasons why he hasn’t left your guest room yet, there’s a couple of reasons he won’t voice. 

That you stopped calling it your guest room and started calling it his room almost immediately after he moved in.

That you integrated his stuff into the wider home—his chipped coffee mug in your kitchen cabinet, his beer in your fridge, his scuffed work boots lined up neatly beside your shoes in the entryway—so he’d feel at home.

That you cook for him, that you wheedle his favorite meals from him and have an uncanny ability to know when he’s having a rough day and needs the comfort of a good meal.

That you eat his paltry attempts at cooking for you, a poor stab at repaying you, that you smile and thank him and pretend not to wince when something is burnt or too heavily salted.

That the casual intimacy of living with you—even platonically—has knocked something loose in him.  That seeing you early in the morning, mussed hair and sleepy eyes, rumpled pajamas as you get the coffee started…or seeing you before bed, after you shower, your skin soft and damp and smelling like your herbal soap.  It all makes something warm unfurl in his chest, and when Frankie starts to think on it, it makes him feel out of control.  He has no right to develop feelings for you.  You’ve been nothing but generous with him, and he cannot repay your goodwill by being a creep.

So he doesn’t dwell on it.

-----

He doesn’t dwell on it, and he doesn’t give it voice. 

He sits on the couch and listens as you dart between your room and the bathroom, getting ready for a work holiday party.  He listens to your muttered curses, your bathroom mirror pep talks you give to your own reflection.  He listens to the patter of your bare feet as you bounce between dressing and doing your makeup.

A moment later, you appear, a clutch in one hand and a pair of heels in the other.  You stand in the doorway and fix him with a nervous smile before you ask, “do I look alright?”

Frankie has a beat to study you—the dark green dress, the tasteful amount of cleavage, the skirt that flares just above your knees.  He looks closer and sees that you’re in stockings, subtly patterned, and as he watches, you brace yourself in the doorway and slide your heels on one at a time.  You usually don’t wear much makeup, but for this party, you’ve gone all in:  dark lashes framing your eyes, velvety red lips.

You look beautiful.  You look like a damned present just begging to be unwrapped and ravished, and Frankie clears his throat roughly before he answers you.

“Yeah, you look alright.”

You snort, shake your head.  “Jerk.  Seriously, is it too much?  Not enough?  Give me something to work with here, Francisco.”

“You look nice.”  He swallows hard, amends it by adding, “you look beautiful.” 

“Alright, nice, beautiful,” you laugh as you pull on your coat.  “Good adjectives.  Thanks, Frankie.”

He gives you a mock-salute.  “Anytime.”  And because he feels like a sulky asshole now—he can never strike the right tone with you, tries too hard to hide his feelings and so swings too hard the other way into sullen indifference—he adds, gentler, “no, you look great.  Seriously.”

That earns him a hug.  You walk over to where he sits, and you lean over to wrap an arm around his shoulders.  Even the brief press of your body against his is enough to fuel a month of fantasies, because you look feminine as hell—dress, heels, deep red lipstick on your kissable mouth—but you’re wearing a warm, almost masculine perfume.  You smell like tobacco and rum, undercut with the sweetness of vanilla, and the juxtaposition makes him perk up at a cellular level.

“Be good,” you tell him once you release him from the hug.  You walk towards the front door and gift him one of your sweet smiles.  “Enjoy your alone time.  I’ll be back late.”

“You be good,” he replies.  “And drive safely.”

-----

You leave, but your presence haunts Frankie.  The ghost of your perfume lingers, as does the click of your heels as you walked out.  The image of you in that dress feels like it’s burned on the back of his eyelids.

He tries to settle.  He tries to relax.  He orders in, puts on a mindless movie.  He picks at his food, drinks a beer, then a second beer.  Hours pass and he still feels jittery, and it’s like the early days of his sobriety, but he’s not craving cocaine.  He’s craving you, which is stupid because he’s never had you, so it’s all conjecture—pure imagination, pure pining.  Pure want.  But the fact remains:  he’s not hard, exactly, but he’s at the point of near-arousal, the ghost of you just in his periphery.   

Frankie puts his picked-over food in the refrigerator.  He cleans up a little.  He should go to bed, try to sleep, and so he makes his way back to his room.

But in the hallway, he pauses by his doorway and glances towards your bedroom.  The door is cracked.  Frankie has been in there before, has sat on the edge of your bed once when you were sick with a migraine and he nursed you back to health.  Alone, with you out of the house, your bedroom feels like something in a gothic novel:  the forbidden chamber, your sanctuary.

Be good, you told him, and Frankie wants to be good, but his feet lead him the few steps to your door, and his hand pushes your door open wider.  The scent of your perfume is stronger here—the incongruously masculine scent that reminds him of a dark-lit jazz club, even though he’s never been to a dark-lit jazz club.  The scent curls around him, fills him up, and he steps inside your bedroom.

You’re neat but not painfully so.  A neat stack of books are on your bedside table.  A basket of freshly folded clothes sits on the bench at the foot of your bed.  He steps further inside and studies the top of your dresser:  the little dish that holds some of your jewelry, a half-burned candle, a row of lotions and perfume bottles.  He leans against the dresser and looks at your bed, and of course he pictures you lying there, which leads to him imagining more.

You lying on the bed.  Naked.  No, in that green dress.  He imagines unzipping it, pushing it off your shoulders, dragging his nose along your warm skin and smelling the perfume on you, your fingers threaded through his hair as he—

No.  He rewinds it in his head, starts over.  You lying on the bed.  In the dress.  He imagines pushing up your skirt, imagines you in garters, imagines shoving your skirt up—

No.  He shakes his head, goes back to the first scene.  Stripping you slowly.  Yes, that’s better.  Frankie was always the kid who unwrapped his Christmas presents slowly.  His mother saved the paper, so it was a contest between him and his brothers to see who could unwrap it the best while saving it for future Christmases.  He could strip you just as carefully, his fingertips dancing over your skin, making you twitch at too much sensation, moaning out his name—

No.  It’s still not right.  He switches the two of you in his mind, imagines himself on the bed, you perched over him.  Your hands undoing his belt, his zipper, grasping his cock and stroking it before lowering your head, wrapping those red fucking lips around him, your dark-fringed eyes gazing up at him while you—

“Fuck,” he breathes out, aware of how he’s passed the threshold of near-arousal into outright excitement.  He’s hard just from imagining it, and his erection presses painfully against his jeans.

He turns to leave, but his gaze falls on your basket of clean clothing.  Christ, he could swipe a pair of your panties, and the thought tempts him but it’s going too far…so he reaches out and swipes one of your t-shirts instead—a soft cotton one you wear around the house.  He’s still crossing a line but it doesn’t feel quite as bad, so Frankie flees to his own room with your shirt clutched in his hand.

But not before he pauses, hesitates.  He snags your bottle of perfume and spritzes your shirt with the scent. 

He has no plan; he’s operating on lust alone, but he figures he can just wash it on the sly and give it back to you, give you some tame lie about it getting mixed in with his own laundry.

-----

In his room.  Door locked, just to be safe.  Lights off, naked in his bed, the soft scented cotton of your shirt clenched in one hand and held up near his nose.

His other hand gripping his cock, stroking himself.  Eyes closed.  Pretending it’s your hand and not his own.

Frankie tries out the fantasies from in your room.  You on the bed, you in the dress, you with your skirt hiked up around your waist.  He tries out other fantasies he’s entertained in the past:  taking you against the kitchen table, taking you on the couch.  A million positions, a million scenarios, and he can’t settle on one.  His orgasm feels far away, unattainable.  He’s never been good at just imagining things, has usually relied on a handful of tried-and-true porn clips he’s saved on his laptop, but he doesn’t want that now. 

He wants to imagine you.  He sighs, refocuses.  He reaches over to his nightstand and squirts a fresh dollop of lotion into his palm, then grips himself again.

You….you wouldn’t rush it.  You’d go slow.  If it was your hand and not his own, you’d go slow, so Frankie goes slow.  Strokes his cock slow and steady, imagines you pressing those kissable lips to his neck, his chest.  You’d leave smudges of dark red lipstick on him, a trail marking him as yours.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper to him.  “Such a good boy for me, Francisco.”

“Yes,” he whispers in the silence of his room.  “Always for you.”

“Such a big cock,” you’d whisper to him.  “So thick I can barely get my fingers around you.”

Frankie tilts his head back, brushes his nose against the bunched-up t-shirt.  He takes a deep inhale, feels the answering throb in his cock as he strokes a bit faster.  He imagines you whispering more to him, imagines you telling him how you can’t wait to feel him inside you, his big, thick cock splitting you open, your pussy molding to the shape of him, how wet you already are for him just from jacking him off—

“Always wanted to do this,” you’d breathe in his ear as you stroke him faster, harder.  “Touched myself at night thinking about you, Francisco.”

His orgasm, so far away initially, takes him by surprise.  He feels the hot coil of anticipation snap, and he groans out your name over and over in the darkness of his room as he comes, spurts of cum painting his belly and thighs, coating his hand.  He lays there a long moment, his blood and heartbeat roaring in his ears, his harsh panting slowly calming.

Frankie lays there a long moment, and the post-orgasmic bliss fades too quick.  Masturbating is a release, but it always leaves him faintly sad afterwards.  He’d rather have the real deal, obviously, but he’d rather have all of it.  He wants the afterglow of sex with you, wants to fall asleep beside you.  Wants to wake up too early and take you again.  Wants to know how that smoky, whiskey-tinged perfume of yours pairs with the scent of sex.

Frankie wants all of it, and when the post-orgasmic bliss fades, he despairs that he’ll never have it.  That he’ll be stuck contenting himself with these pathetic moments, jacking off to the smell of you, your soft shirt laid against his skin.  That he’ll be stuck at rock bottom.

But the nice thing about rock bottom, as they cliché goes, is that there’s nowhere to go but up.  Frankie has hit his bottom and is on an upward trajectory—he just doesn’t realize it yet.  It’s the final moment of him not realizing, of feeling maudlin about himself.  When he stands up and reassembles himself enough to leave his room and clean up in the bathroom, he’ll run directly into you:  standing outside his door, high heels in hand, eyes wide at what you’ve just heard.

You’ve heard everything.  Frankie and the obvious sound of him masturbating.  Frankie and the sound of him groaning out your name over and over as he came.

Frankie so wrapped up in his fantasy of you that he failed to hear your car in the driveway, the click of your key in the door.  Frankie so wrapped up in his own world that he hasn’t realized that hours have passed; that it is late and you’re home when you promised.

[littlemssam]

Mod Updates

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache when updating my Mods!

***

Update for Script Files, so they don't contribute to the script limit anymore. Don’t know about the script limit? Read @mizoreyukii‘s Explanation here 

Anti Heat Pill (Pets)

Extract Fossils at the Archaeology Table

Ask to Go for a Walk & Bath (Dogs)

Auto Employees | Custom Lot Trait

Autonomous Repairs

Call a Babysitter

Better Nanny (Second Nanny & more)

Can i come over?

Change Outfit via Closets, Coat Rack & Wardrobe

Choose Your Roommate

Eco Dishwasher

Entrance Fee on Community Lots | Custom Lot Trait

First Love

Foster Family

Maid & Gardener Service

Gender & More | Custom Lot Trait

Go for a Walk with Dogs will fill up Needs

Hire certain Sims (incl. Family Members) at Restaurants

Hired Employees earn Money (Vet, Retail, Restaurant)

Hire MakeUp Artist & Get Appearance Styling

Improved Meditation Stool

Live in Business

Miscarriage Chance & Abortion

More Buyable Venues and new Venue Types

More Fun Stuff (Motives, Skills, Life Skills & More Overhaul)

More Umbrella Variations in World

More Visitors | Custom Lot Trait

My Pets

No Sick, Dirty, Sad and Hungry Cats & Dogs

Online Learning System

Play your own Tracks as a DJ

30 Minutes Power Workout & 30 Minutes Swimming

Retail Overhaul (Hire certain Employees/Better Shopping as a Customer & more)

Roommates

School Holidays

SimDa Dating App

SimsLootBox

Small Invite to Hang Out Overhaul

Snorkel Everywhere

Spend Weekend With

Sul Sul Weather App

Train your Puppies

Where are you?

Fixed an issue with dirt piles digging

Collectibles (Rock Digging) Rework (Slower/Harder)

Random Bug Fixes:

Missing Channels got party fixed by EA. Still missing is the Weather Channel. Update of Script Files

Missing Channels

Random Small Mods:

Update for Script Files, so they don't contribute to the script limit anymore

No Aging Trait

No Shoes at Home

Release all Ghosts & Get Urn for

Buy Treats via PC

Dogs change into Everyday Outfit after a Walk

Buy Spells and Potions Tomes via PC

Update for Script Files. Added Addon which hides the Interactions in the Shift Click Cheat Menu.

Toddler Don't go to Daycare

Update for Script Files. Reworked Mod to use RouteEvent instead of just inside/outside tests

Change into Everyday when inside

Update for Script Files. Update to Support the Cottage Living "Simple Living" Lot Challenge

Healthy Food On Fridges

***

Translations

Live in Business (Update of Chinese Translations by Licer) More Visitors | Custom Lot Trait (Update of Chinese Translations by Licer) Sul Sul Weather App (Update of Chinese Translations by Licer) Social Activities (Visit Friends, Family and more) (Update of Chinese Translations by Licer) Better Autonomous Homework (Added Chinese Translations by Licer) Gender & More | Custom Lot Trait (Update of Russian Translation by wild_guy) Buy a better Mattress (Better Energy/Comfort on Beds) (Added French Translation by Kimikosoma) Sell via Simbay (Update of Chinese Translations by Licer)

***

Don’t download these Updates if you have the Legacy Edition!

[xotication]

can we get more on kaneki being an acts of service bf

i thought y'all would get bored of the head cannons but absolutely!!

☆,

kaneki hates when you literally try to do anything by yourself. the man genuinely thinks he should be doing everything for you.

he'll wake up early just to make sure he at least has a small snack or breakfast prepared for you.

when you're going out, he'll ask you what you're gonna wear so he can pull the clothes out of the closet for you.

ken always makes sure to keep two pairs of slides in the back of his car just in case you happen to be wearing an uncomfortable pair of shoes that day.

let's say you guys go out & you happen to get a little bit too drunk; boy is immediately telling everyone that it's time for the two of you to go home...

then he'll just fully throw you over his shoulder & take you all the way to the car, despite you flailing & saying you wanna stay a little bit longer.

when you finally arrive home, you're already knocked out in the passenger seat. he'll carefully lift you & carry you in

& you know damn well he's undressing you & putting you in proper clothing for sleepy time.

"wha- what happened to the party? i wanna party kennie"

"there's no more partying baby, it's time for you to sleep okay?"

"mm, okay." & you'd be knocked in seconds.

chivalry is FAR from dead with this man.

i mean he still pulls out your chair for you & scoots you in

he holds your hands when you're walking up stairs to make sure you don't lose balance.

he does that cute lil thing where if you're bending in front of a counter, he'll put his hand on the edge just so you don't accidentally hit your head.

sometimes ken even fills up your cars tank for the week & gives it a good wash too. just as a little reset for you.

or let's say you're at work, he'll bring you lunch because he has your schedule memorized.

even when you're on your break, he'll call you & ask you if there's anything you want him to bring you.

usually you say no, but on the occasion that you do say yes, kaneki SPEEDING to make sure he gets it to you before your break is over.

sometimes when you get home from being out for the day, he'll help you remove your jewelry (i wear a thousand bracelets sometimes so this is so real)

on days that you happen to maybe want alone time, he'll go to your parents house & ask them if they need help with anything. he's beginning to be a handy man since being with you & your fam appreciates it so much.

ken makes notes to get replacements of some of your makeup products or even your shampoo & conditioner

your friends often ask you how the fuck you trained him..

"idk. he came that way.." "where do i buy one.."

ken randomly gives or sends you money so you can treat yourself to whatever it is you might be wanting that day or week.

the man cooks AND cleans..

you always try to help him but he tells you to sit down, he might as well be a house husband.

you love love love your acts of service bf! >.<

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 4 - Debut

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, depression, insecure/intrusive thoughts, angst, mentions of alcohol

☆ Word Count: 7.3k

The day you’ve been dreading has come at last.

The week leading up to now has been miserable to say the least, with one thing happening after another. Not only that, but your sleep has been suffering as well. A few times you struggled to keep your eyes open, and then other moments you powered through the day only to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling begging for sleep to come.

You can only hope the few hours of sleep you did manage to get will be enough for the day to come, and that the bags under your eyes aren’t too noticeable. It’s one thing to be a regular model, but another to handle the business side of it as well. But after today, you’ll have the respite your body craves.

When morning arrives, you take a nice long everything shower to prepare yourself for the day ahead. The rest of your looks are to be handled by professionals on site – makeup included. Hence why all you need to do is come dressed in the epitome of casualwear. You’ll be changing into a dozen outfits throughout the shoot, so no sense in wearing the fanciest your closet as to offer.

A message appears on your phone from the taxi service waiting on you outside. With your purse in hand, you kiss Tsumiki goodbye, and make your way out the building. It’s odd walking around at this time of day, where normally you’re sound asleep while others move to and fro with their lives.

You get to your ride without issue – aka, no neighborly conversations – and settle into the backseat of the car. From there, you keep your eyes to the world around you, silently screaming the longer it takes to get to your destination. At this point you just want to get it over and done with to get back to the sanctity of your home for some much-needed relaxation.

You pity the driver for having to put up with the incessant bouncing of your legs and the tapping of your fingers, but until the day is over, you won’t know peace.

It all feels so much more real once the site of the shoot comes into view. It’s a luscious garden park, packed to the brim with various scenery. You’re able to see the crew hard at work in setting up the area, and even more as the car comes to a stop for you to make your entrance, truly setting the day in motion.

For a while, you weren’t sure who you were even going to be working with today. A part of you hoped it might be Mei Mei, or one of the other female models to help you feel more at ease. Girls stick together, being the motto you cling to, hoping the other party would feel the same about you. You’re told however that you’ll be modeling with none other than the Satoru Gojo.

A legend in this field, a star above them all, like Polaris of the northern skies.

He’s a man with perfectly white hair – which seems like a recurring theme when you look at Mei Mei or her younger brother from the same company – and eyes that put the brilliance of sapphires to shame. The rest is all in his genes and the physique he’s sculpted over years of hard work and discipline.

You’ve been a long-time follower of his on social media, amazed by how effortless he makes modeling appear. His high energy, charismatic personality he shows off online is another appeal. A social butterfly, an extroverted type you sometimes wish you could be like.

By all means, that should make you feel better about working with him today, but you’d argue it makes it that much worse.

Does meeting your heroes ever go well for anyone?

Is it worth potentially ruining the image you’ve cultivated in your head from their online presence versus the actual knowledge you get from meeting them in public?

At the end of the day, who knows? You’re about to find out one way or another, so let’s hope he’s one of the good ones.

They chose a beautiful venue for the magazine, as the park is heavily adorned in trees showcasing the vibrant warm colors autumn has to offer. The main shooting area is set around a large fountain where you can make out all the crisp leaves floating like petals in the spring. Close to the park is a spot in town filled with more historic buildings, works of architectural genius you admire like it’s a game of The Sims. It makes the perfect location for the looks you’ll be showing off.

Your eyes eventually land on none other than your boss/agent/manager – whatever you want to call him, Kento Nanami.

He’s been there for you since day one, acting in whatever role he needs to be for you to succeed in the business. At his side are a few other men and women, nearly all familiar faces from the meetings you’ve had or profile pictures, courtesy of their email accounts.

You approach the group with your hands folded neatly in front of you, trying to discretely rub away the clammy texture of your palms. Handshakes are inevitable, so you might as well be prepared now.

The blond calls out your name as you step closer, “Glad you could make it, we’re almost ready to begin.” His face remains calm, appearing professional as ever, but there’s a hint of a smile surfacing at the edges of his lips.

One of the men in the group stretches his hand out for what you’ve been expecting, and you cautiously oblige. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” he states with your name punctuating his words. “I’m Masamichi Yaga, Satoru’s manager. We’re looking forward to working with you today.”

You have to say, while he seemed overly serious and admittedly scary online, and even now in person with his rigid stature, it’s different up close. Seeing him here, shows you that – while serious, yes, there’s a friendly undertone to the man. A panda, one might compare him to. Still classified as a bear with the claws to show for it, but one you could hug and come out unscathed.

You manage to get your words across through shaky breaths, a semblance of your composure, “Thank you, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Satoru hasn’t arrived yet, but you should go and get started with the makeup artist,” Kento informs you. There’s a disgruntled tone in his voice at the mention of the model, and it reminds you of how he sounded during that meeting you were late for at the start of this all.

It’s not often you hear your boss annoyed with someone; another reason you feel lucky to work under him. He’s always fair to you and others, and never the type to berate his fellow employees. Overtime is few and far, one that he has little tolerance for.

“Right away, Mr. Nanami.” You bow to the group, taking your leave with an anxious strut. Once you’re far enough way, you let out the breath you’ve been holding, regaining yourself with a quick calming exercise.

Getting your hair and everything done happens to be one of your favorite parts of modeling. Your biggest task is merely to sit in a chair in silence, letting the artists work you from a blank canvas to a completed piece.

What could be better for someone socially inept?

This wasn’t the usual artist that does your work, so either they’re with the partner agency or some other sponsor judging by the matching brands in their setup. You’re tense as they work, eyes closed and all, with a sense of dread bubbling in your gut.

A pat on your shoulder startles you after some time, jolting you in your seat much to the artist’s dismay. “Hey there! You must be Nanamin’s protégé,” he chirps while bright blue eyes stare eagerly into yours, piercing what feels like straight to your soul.

“Protégé?” you question with a meek sounding tone.

He doesn’t satiate your curiosity on the matter, instead opting to introduce himself, “I’m Satoru, it’s nice to meet you.” The man smiles, taking a seat in the chair next to yours confidently.

“Likewise, looking forward to working with you,” you respond, your eyes unmoving from his direction.

His makeup artist comes over and begins their work, though there’s not much of anything that needs to be done, given how naturally blessed he is in the looks department. There’s not a single speck or blemish that tarnishes his skin, so the most he gets are a few highlights here and there and something to add a bit of a sparkle around his celestial bodies for eyes.

It wouldn’t surprise you if each had their own name depending on his level of vanity. Perhaps Sirius and Regulus would be most suited for him, in your opinion.

Then again, you can also name about four other blue-burning stars off the top of your head. But, since only two lie in front of you, you’ll just have to go with the ones that outshine the rest.

It haunts you that one of your first thoughts meeting him is one built on envy – annoyed that you feel the need to compare your appearance to him. There are a dozen reasons you chose to become a model, none of which involved the crippling self-loathing that comes when it starts to feel like a competition.

May the prettiest one win, some might say.

You wonder that if in another life, if you were born with all the features you desire and deem attractive, if you would be better off. Able to live life without fear of not being enough, never having to second guess yourself in the mirror you so wish to send your fist through on a daily basis.

Would you be happy then?

Would you finally be loved?

Suddenly, your vision meets cyan once more. Shit, how long have you been staring?

“You ever been on a magazine cover before?” he asks, oblivious to the turmoil you face in your head.

Of course not. “No, I haven’t. This is my first time.”

He makes a noncommittal hum in response, and you feel his gaze turning intrusive by the second. Not in a creepy way – no, more like he’s reading you, thinking hard about something unknown to you. “That’s surprising for a protégé of Nanamin… What do you normally do then?”

You aren’t sure whether to question his continuous use of that nickname for your boss or why he believes you to be some apprentice to him, but for now you choose to ignore it, answering, “Commercial modeling, but I do more marketing than anything, really.” Your tone makes it appear as though it’s unimpressive, and sometimes you do feel that way. “More ‘behind the scenes’ work.” You add, shrugging nonchalantly after.

“Wait till this magazine drops, you’ll be getting this many new calls,” he drawls with a show of his hands to emphasize his point.

Your eyes drift away with a subtle roll to them. Yeah, we’ll see about that.

Of the many reasons you became a model, fame and fortune were never the goal either. Sure, being popular enough to maintain a stable influx of opportunities is favorable, but you don’t desire runway status. Cheers to the ones that do want it, but that isn’t you.

Satoru doesn’t push more conversation after. In fact, about a minute later he’s up and out of the chair, all finished with the minimal detailing necessary to make his features pop.

Your artist continues their work for a while after, with a hair stylist now with you as well, and only then were you permitted to finally go and get changed in one of the areas provided for the models.

Of everything today has had to offer so far, the scariest bit has to be the clothing rack, by far. As expected of a high fashion company, what lies on the hangers are nothing short of expensive. One piece of fabric alone costs about as much as a few months’ worth of rent, if that.

You were fitted into the first of several outfits to come, terrified the whole way through if something were to potentially rip and have to come out of your own pocket as punishment. While that’s never happened, there’s a first time for everything. Please don’t be today.

On the way out of the room, you make it your forefront thought to avoid the mirror calling out to you like a siren lulling you to your demise. All it would take is one look to have you ensnared, or rather petrified.Turned to stone by your gaze alone, picking apart every little detail to ruin whatever façade you try and hold for the cameras that await.

Satoru is already at the fountain when you arrive, waving as you fall into his orbital pull. His signature sunglasses do little to hide the glimmer of light behind them, but the smile plastered across his face burns equally bright to compensate anyways.

“Don’t you look nice?” he muses, letting his shades fall further down the bridge of his nose while his head angles down. “That outfit suits you quite a bit.”

Under normal circumstances, a blush might try to form along your face. Maybe if it was Toji –but then we’d be getting off track. The main feeling that plagues you in this moment is that of being out of place; a rock amidst a pile of a perfectly cut diamonds.

Pluto, blending in amongst the other eight planets, yet still shunned if we’re keeping to celestial themes.

At best, you might compare to an opalite crystal. Pretty – yes, but ultimately glass at the end of the day. Your hues can be manipulated, carefully crafted to ascertain a certain degree of beauty. But all it takes is one wrong move to scratch or shatter you and then all that effort was for naught.

A pile of shards no more worthy than dust.

“Nanamin!” The man in front of you bellows out with joy, snapping you from your solemn reverie. He throws his arm over the blond’s shoulders in a casual manner, eliciting a groan from the latter. “It’s been too long! Why don’t you come around more often?”

“It’s been one week, Gojo.” His response is monotone, and his arms are kept folded in front of his chest as he tries to maintain an air of indifference.

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that.” Satoru visibly frowns, puffing out his cheeks.

Choosing to ignore more of his bantering, Kento’s attention turns to you while simultaneously addressing the other, “If you’re both ready, we can get started.”

The moment of truth.

You give him a thumbs up and a forced smile better described as a fine line. Kento shrugs himself off Satoru, stepping close enough to place a hand over your shoulder with a reassuring grip. “Try to relax, and do your best,” he nearly whispers with a fatherly tone melding within his words, “You’re more than ready for this.”

And with that, the photoshoot officially begins.

With a few calming breaths later and those words of assurance playing back in your head, your façade is up and at the ready the moment the cameras start flashing.

Pose after pose, you work in tangent with Satoru while the crew fires off their instructions for the perfect photos. His playfulness is still apparent ─ albeit reigned in. It’s now more in a way that comes across as him wanting to get a reaction out of you. Like he knows you have a proverbial mask on, playing it off as stoicism. Maybe those eyes see more than you realize.

Of course he’s not only good looking, but an exceptional model to match. He doesn’t need to try so hard to give the people what they want. Compliments are showered upon him, yet narcissism doesn’t appear to be a high point in his personality when it all-too-easily could.

Rather, he seems more uncaring to the simple words of praise. Finding more joy in doing whatever feels best in the moment with unrivaled confidence.

You don’t mean to sound bitter and cold. Jealousy just so happens to be an emotion so deeply rooted that if you try to pry it away, it would be no different than grasping a bed of thorns with the palms of your hands. A weed that you can never fully eradicate.

All you want is to feel happy ─ pretty, not so much wanted as a desire to be enough.

It’s easy to be affected by the words of others. For every bit of kindhearted justification you hear, it’s one step towards helping you be able to tell yourself the same things. To get to a point where you can finally feel satisfied with yourself. To never have to ask if you’re even worthy of being alive when you feel so lacking.

That’s why when the cameras come on, you envision exactly what it is you so desperately wish to be. A picture speaks a thousand words. If so, then you hope the ones from today tell the story you dream about in your head each night as you drift away to sleep.

Modeling for you was always about finding that confidence in yourself. To see yourself in the eyes of others, proving that by having this title in life, you can make it a reality that perhaps yes, you are pretty.

You can be anything and everything you want to be.

The action carries on throughout the day with intermittent breaks in between outfit changes and other touchups to your hair and makeup. You have your moments of conversation with the marketing team and crew, sometimes making more effort to discuss what needs to be done over actually utilizing the short bit of time to rest and recoup.

Contrary to what might be popular belief, as a model ─ you aren’t there to stand and look pretty for the cameras. You’re not there to stand for a total of five minutes and then go home rich. It’s dedication and hard work to present the perfect image of yourself for the rest of the world to see.

You may be there waging one-sided wars in your head the entire time, but you still put your all into what you do. Perfection is a journey with an impossible destination, but nevertheless, it’s still the path you’ll traverse.

At the end of the day when the skies morph into a lovely collage of orange and pink hues and the final few photos are taken, you return to the dressing room to shed the covers of imitated beauty. Before that happens, you make the mistake of letting the mirror pull you in, too exhausted to otherwise fight the Damocles sword that hangs right there waiting.

The reflection in the glass is indeed you, but at the same time it’s not. A stranger in your own skin. More likely what the cameras outside were capturing away. The performance you gave that stemmed from a number of fantasies for all the “what if?” life scenarios.

She’s beautiful, you think, admiring the glow of her skin from the sheen of sweat.

Like lipstick on a pig, another half of you cackles, burning holes in all your self-deemed imperfections.

The makeup’s not bad like you originally thought it might be, but it’s also not your usual preference, and greatly overdone. Almost like an attempt to paint you anew. A coverup to an already stained canvas.

Nothing you do is ever enough to vanquish the perpetual tempest that encircles your mind, trapping you beneath torrential thoughts of insecurities. Telling yourself in the mirror you’re pretty doesn’t do anything either, not when you can’t bring yourself to believe it. To you, that’s just one big lie and you can’t stand liars.

It’s even worse when the clothes come off and it’s now just you in your natural form. A cruel reminder to the lengths you have to go to feel redeemable. Even if you told yourself earlier that luxury isn’t you, it sure does a good job at making you feel like someone you’re not. Sometimes that’s a refreshing change.

You eventually finish changing back into the clothes you arrived in, exiting the room with your phone in hand. Your sanctuary awaits, and you’re more than ready to get back to the only place you find solace in. You’re quickly reminded that fate is a fickle thing, always weaving you in a web of red string when you hear the calling of your name. The sound draws your attention upwards to the ever-cheerful man skipping your way.

“Yo!” Satoru waves to you gleefully. “What do you think about going out to celebrate our first gig together over some drinks?” he inquires with expectant eyes that border on looks a puppy might give.

Confusion bubbles up, mixing with your avoidant nature to make a cocktail poisonous only to you if you allow it. Why would someone like him want to go out with someone like you?

“That’s okay, I’m sure you must be tired after today,” is what you respond with. Not a total lie, but it gives you a way out even if it means drinking from the tainted cup of emotions.

“Nonsense, I could keep going for hours!” he refutes with never faltering amusement. “Think about it!” he further begs, with the front of his hands pressed together. “I invited some others too, so it’ll be a whole group of fun!”

Why did I even agree to this…

You’ve been following slightly behind Satoru for several blocks on aching feet from a day of standing in heels. Trying to keep up with his long-legged strides proves difficult, but not impossible. The sunset skies have dimmed, now replaced by the neon lights of the downtown area. It has its beauty, but it can’t compare to the lights of the natural sky.

He stops abruptly in front of a brick building, almost causing you to crash into him. “We’re here!” he cheers, all while you’re immediately taken aback by the sign hanging above the doorway: Star Plasma.

Toji’s workplace.

Your neighbor’s been on your mind sporadically throughout the day. Between Kento’s words and that of Toji’s from the week prior, they’ve helped to keep you afloat in a river of self-loathing.

Inside the club, you’re met with various velvet-lined booths in every direction and a crowd of people filling the space. At the center lies a large, oval-shaped bar too swarmed with patrons to make out if Toji is among the ones working this very night.

The atmosphere and overall design of the place bear a resemblance to that of a strip club, although it lacks the trademark poles on stages deemed for entertainment. That section is occupied with instruments currently not in use. There are some other rooms in the back, but their designated uses remain unknown at this time.

“Over here!” Satoru calls out your name, reminding you of why you’re here to begin with.

He leads the way back to a booth where two others sit in waiting. One is man heavily adorned in ink from what you can make out. His long, silky black hair is half tied up in a bun that reveals the large piercings settled in his ears. The other is a woman with mid-length brown hair and familiar shades of purple beneath her eyes, evident of a lack of sleep you know all too well. She nestles a glass in her hand, its contents another mystery to you.

The two of them you recognize from posts on Satoru’s instagram, but anything more eludes you as their profiles are set to private.

Satoru scoots in next to the man and their lips greet each other. “Who’s your new friend?” The black-haired one questions, looking you over with a curious eye. You aren’t sure how to act, and thus are awkwardly standing at the edge of the booth.

“The model I was working with today,” Satoru introduces with a telling of your name. His hands raise to gesture to those at his side. “This is Suguru, my boyfriend, and our third wheel, Shoko!”

“Your third wheel wants another drink, Satoru,” she scoffs, flashing an empty glass in front of his face. “These are going on your tab for being late, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Satoru waves her off, placing his focus back on you. “What do you want to drink?”

“Oh, uh–“ Now you look even more awkward than before. “I’ve never had alcohol so I’m not sure…” Your voice lowers gradually by the end of your sentence.

The three look to you with equal levels of shock. “Leave it to me then!” He beams, pressing a fist to his chest. He slips out of the booth making his way to the bar.

You watch him leave before feeling a hand tugging at your wrist. “Come on, sit down!” Shoko beckons, urging you to sit at her side. You take her up on it, fidgeting with your hands underneath the table to ease the nerves. It’s been years at least since you last had a sit-down like this outside of work. How are you supposed to act?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru breaks the ice with Shoko following in turn with the same greeting.

Your body involuntarily tenses up as you become aware to how their eyes are examining you. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you as well.”

“Satoru doesn’t typically invite coworkers out, have you two known each other for long?” the man interrogates, though his demeanor is rather friendly. If anything, there’s more of a protective hint to his words.

While shaking your head, you reply, “No, we just met earlier today.”

“Word of advice ─ run,” Shoko snickers, earning a disapproved glare from Suguru. “I’m kidding,” she follows up, drawing out her words playfully. “But seriously, don’t be afraid to tell him ‘no’ to anything you’re not comfortable with. He can be a lot to someone not used to him, but he means well.”

Now this is a perfect example of one of those girls you know you can rely on to have your back. You don’t have any issues with Satoru, but it still makes you happy to feel like someone’s looking out for you.

It wasn’t long after that Satoru returns, skillfully balancing several drinks in hand. Sake for Suguru, whiskey for Shoko, a very colorful ─ no doubt fruit flavored cocktail for himself given the smell, and lastly, a margarita for you. The group demands a small toast “To friendship!” Satoru remarks before your glasses all meet in the middle.

One by one, they each take sips from their respective cups while you’re more occupied with swirling the thin straw around your drink. The smell is…unique, more pungent than anything. If you close your eyes, it almost smells like lemonade which you can enjoy, until that first sip hits your tongue.

Then it’s just harsh and bitter instead of sour or sweet.

The three watch in earnest at your first step into the world of alcohol, remembering their own experiences while your face scrunches up in disgust. Shoko pats your back soothingly to help you through the coughing fit as it took everything in you to not gag and embarrass yourself.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the taste the more you drink,” Satoru muses. But honestly, how does anyone like this stuff, let alone to come back for more? “I invited Nanamin too, but he turned me down by saying he’s busy like always,” he adds with an obvious pouty face.

Shoko sighs, “Did you forget how much of a workaholic he is?”

“Speak for yourself, but you still came!” he retorts with a simpering smile.

She then points an accusative finger at him. “I’m not turning down alcohol, especially when you’re footing the bill.”

“Oh, is that right?” he sarcastically replies, “Don’t act like you don’t love us, Sho.”

“Even if Heaven and Earth turned upside down–“

“Now, now,” Suguru intervenes like that of a scolding mother. “Let’s not frighten off our new friend here.”

The two mumble apologies even though you can’t help the joy that bubbles up. Being a third or fourth wheel can have its issues at times ─ namely if you’re being excluded from the group ─ but sitting back and watching them banter away is plenty enjoyable for you.

One comment they made however caught your attention. “You guys know Mr. Nanami?”

“Sure do!” Satoru chirps, more than happy you asked. “The four of us went to school together and after graduation, Nanamin and I ended up in the modeling business. It wasn’t until a few years ago he decided to take up a managing role. Not sure why, he was doing just fine.” He shrugs.

Disbelief hits you like a high-tide wave. “He was a model?”

“You didn’t know?” Your question apparently astonishes him. He pulls his phone out, swiping through it a few times before passing it to you from across the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t know, what with you being his protégé and all.”

“I don’t know about protégé, but…” your voice trails off as you examine the pictures. Sure enough, these photos are indeed your boss, varying from tourism magazines to modeling business suits from highly reputable designers.

The notion that he was a model isn’t farfetched; it’s a thought that’s crossed your mind a dozen times given his handsome looks. Having the confirmation now with physical proof to back it up has your mouth held agape at the newfound information.

“He never mentioned any of this to me before,” you murmur.

“I’m not shocked,” Suguru chimes in. “Kento’s always been more reserved when it comes to himself.”

“Are you two in the industry as well?” You direct your question to Suguru and Shoko who look back with raised eyebrows that border on amusement.

Satoru decides to be the one to answer in place, “Nope! Suguru here is a tattoo artist, and Shoko’s a doctor.”

Suddenly, the plethora of tattoos make a whole lot more sense. That, and Shoko’s eyebags. Your eyes wander to the art you can see around the revealed sections of the upper half of his body. They range from subtle beauty to grotesque in nature, the majority being creatures straight out of folklore but more imaginative ─ the product of nightmares, more or less.

The trail of ink stops just short of his jawline, but that alone leads into how he styles himself with piercings. There are the obvious black pearls on the lobes, but he also has one right through his eyebrow. As he speaks, there’s even a glint of one on his tongue and who knows where else.

“Like what you see?” Suguru purrs and your eyes snap up to meet his golden-brown gaze. He tries to show off more from his arms, as much as his current clothes will allow, and your favorite might have to be the rainbow dragon stretching from his neck to somewhere beneath his shirt.

You retreat to your drink, only for the bitter taste to remind you of its existence. “Y-yeah, they look really nice,” you tell him with the hint of a blush.

Shoko takes to lightly smacking his shoulder, falling into the effects alcohol has to offer. “Looks like you finally found a fan of your twisted style, Suguru.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru frowns, wanting some of his own attention from you. “What did you think about today? Those clothes were great, huh? I might have to buy some for later.”

Your eyes can’t help but fall to your lap as the memory resurfaces of your earlier turmoil. You’ll admit that it went better than expected, and you’re glad it’s over with now, but as always, you’re left to deal with the aftermath of the storm.

“You looked amazing!” You exclaim, and you’re not at all lying. “Perfect for the magazine.” Him, not you.

“Right? I loved that outfit you had on–“

Satoru continues to talk but there’s a buzz that forms in your ears, separate from the music of the club that keeps you from understanding anything other than your own mind. It feels as though your stomach is being twisted into knots and the earlier tension hits you in full once again.

You still don’t understand why they wanted you so bad for this, and to pair you up with such a highly regarded model.

Your follower count is nothing close to his; you’re practically a nobody. It could have been done out of pity, those two are friends after all. Maybe it could’ve been a way to shame you, to prove to you that–

“Helloooo?”

“Huh? Sorry?”

“There you are, almost thought the alcohol finally started to get to you.” Satoru smirks, leaning back in his seat. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go use the restroom.” You force a smile as you stand, picking a random direction to walk in. “I’ll be right back!”

Your back’s turned before they even have a chance to respond. It took a bit of searching, but eventually you found the bathroom, slipping your way inside. You can’t help but idle in front of the mirror, staring at yourself in the reflection. There are some stray hairs to tame and running makeup to fix, but all in all, you aren’t sure what else you have left to feel.

It's likely all the lack of sleep is finally catching up on you. Being overly exhausted never does any favors as the tired mind can be quite cruel, hence you teetering on the edge of breaking down in tears.

At least when you return home to Tsumiki you’ll feel better. Your sweet little girl that helps give you a reason to keep going despite it all. The earnings from this photoshoot will do nicely in affording some fresh new toys to pamper her with, and you find yourself growing impatient to see her.

You leave the bathroom with a more freshened mind and a goal in sight, but you’re stopped short of your return to the booth when your name is called in a familiar baritone tune. Its source ─ your one and only neighbor, perched over the counter, shining away at some crystal.

“Hi Toji,” you greet, coming up to the empty barstool in front of him. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.”

You also didn’t expect to see how polished he looks while on the job. Here, you find him in black dress pants, a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, some silver hardware, and half his bangs smoothed back. If it weren’t for him being behind the counter all dolled, you’d peg him as a bouncer the way his muscles are straining.

“Should’ve told me you wanted to come by, I’d have offered a ride.”

“Oh, I’m actually with a group right now.” You look towards your booth where Satoru has his hands in the air, wildly gesturing for whatever they’re conversing about.

Toji follows your eyes with recognition. “Ah, that kid,” he teases, acting as if he’s not right there in age with all of you. “Had me make that unicorn jungle juice shit for him. How he’s not overdosing on sugar is beyond me.” He rolls his eyes before meeting yours once again.

His quick-witted tongue leaves you giggling, proving to be just what you needed to relax. “Yeah, he invited me here after we finished that photoshoot I mentioned before, and I couldn’t exactly say no, so…here I am.” You laugh again, but it’s a tad bit dry, given your state of exhaustion.

Looking at him now after the day you’ve had, you find it far too easy to get lost in his green gaze. While there’s no good star you could compare them to, the Earth around you is all you need. From luscious forests to precious metals, jades and emeralds might be the best metaphors. Malachite on the other hand offers a uniqueness suited for this one-of-a-kind man.

They scan you intently, bordering on the same look a Nikon camera offers. A shutter comes in the form of blinks, capturing you to store away in his memory for as long as he can.

“That was today, huh?” He pauses, green ripples softening as pools of black spread outwards. “How’d it go?”

Words are lost on you as you try and piece together what to tell him. A small sliver of you wants to be honest when he’s proven to be a good listener, but you also think he gets enough of that on the job.

“It was…good? Busy, mostly,” you reply, keeping it short and sweet. You can’t imagine how many drunkards come spilling their guts, expecting him to act as their therapist. You don’t want to bring any unnecessary stress to him when he’s trying to pay the bills like anyone else.

“Yeah?” Another patron interrupts before he can continue, forcing Toji to make his order, but not without some cursing spilling from under his breath. When he returns to you, he loses that tension, leaning his forearms against the counter. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you at first when you were walkin’ by.”

“Because of all the makeup, I guess?” you huff, “Yeah, it’s bad–“

“It’s good,” he cuts you off mid-sentence and you feel your breath hitch. “Different than your usual, but not bad. Not like you need all that to begin with,” he continues without so much as missing a beat, leading you suck your lips inwards in a coy manner.

Toji looks satisfied as he flashes you a pearly white canine beneath his crooked grin. “I take it you’re celebrating then, what did that brat get for you?”

You chuckle at his feigned hostility towards Satoru, knowing full well he’s only kidding around. “I think he said it’s a margarita. I’m not sure though, it’s my first-time drinking.”

His reaction is a lot less surprised than the other three. “How do you like it?”

You snort, “Not great, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how anyone can stomach it.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffs, raising a hand to gesture in disbelief before dropping it back to the counter with a small thud. “Can’t stand that shit.”

“Huh?” You stare at him, taken aback.

He raises an eyebrow at you in response. “What?”

“Nothing,” you breathe. “Just wondering why you’re a bartender if you hate alcohol that much.”

“Gotta pay the bills somehow, doll.” He winks, the smirk of his returning for a hot second. “If you want, I can make you somethin’ that’s easier to swallow?”

You’re hesitant, but ultimately willing to trust the man and give it a go. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Toji now has a goal in mind to impress you, making this worth your while so that maybe you’ll come back another night.

He reaches under the bar, pulling out an assortment of supplies, gauging what he knows of you to make the perfect drink. You can’t help but be mesmerized by how he mixes everything, verging on being a showoff about it too, but overall similar to how a hibachi grill might perform for patrons.

The difference is, this one is all for you, made special by him.

He empties the contents into a tall, narrow glass, topping it off with a tiny umbrella of your favorite color and a few extra slices of your favorite fruit along the rim. “Enjoy, sweetheart.” He winks again, sliding the liquid potion your way with deft fingers. His confidence is apparent, believing in his skills.

The suddenness of hearing “sweetheart” from the man no doubt has your face feeling warm, complimented by the color of the drink. There’s still some hesitation as you lift it to your mouth, but after one taste, you admit that it’s not so bad ─ better even, compared to the previous concoction. Any tinge of alcohol your palate detects is washed away thanks to the fruity aftertaste and whatever else he threw in.

“So?” he drawls, eager to hear what he already knows is sweet victory.

“It’s…good, I like it, actually,” you tell him with a smile, enjoying another sip after. “What do I owe you for it?”

“For you?” He leans closer, his grin widening. “On the house. Don’t worry about cost tonight.”

“Toji, you cannot keep doing this for me!” you argue, attempting to pull out your wallet when his hand stops you right in your tracks.

“Too bad,” his voice drops to a smooth, gravely tone. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing. “It’s my treat for your celebration,” he chuckles.

You pout. “You’re going to have to let me treat you sometime, you know.” At this rate, you’re going to have to start keeping a list for everything you wish to pay him back for since he won’t ever let you win.

As good of a feeling as it is to be pampered like this, you also don’t want to keep burdening him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one always offering his kindness, you don’t want him to feel like he has to ─ that you’re not capable of doing this for yourself. 

“Your presence is enough of a treat,” he reassures, “The kid would agree with me.”

In a way, that sounds like Toji actually enjoys spending time with you. In reality, that is exactly what he said, but the thought of someone like him and even his son wantingsomeone like you around is nearly impossible to fathom. Unless of course this is the alcohol already taking affect on your processing and hearing…

Your presence is a treat.

You are wanted.

…That’s what he said.

“Toji! Come here for a sec!” a younger employee at the other end of the bar calls out, earning a grunt from the one in front of you.

“Shit, guess fun time’s over,” he huffs. “If you need anythin’ else, you know where to find me, pretty girl.”

“Thanks, Toji.” You grin appreciatively. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Oh, hey,” he calls out your name as step off from your seat. “Tell me when you’re leavin’, okay? I’ll drive you home.”

You nod in return as you take your leave back to the booth. The trio keeps their eyes on you like ravenous hyenas as you settle back in.

“Soooo,” Satoru drawls with a cheshire grin growing wider by the second. “You wanna tell us what that was about?”

“What?” you question, oblivious to what he means.

“You and the bartender?” he snickers, “The two of you were lookin’ pretty friendly together.”

Shoko scoots closer, noticeably more relaxed and swaying. Her arm wraps around your shoulder, failing an attempt with whispering in your ear, “If you see an opportunity, take it! I can see the heart eyes from here.” Her eyebrows wiggle with a knowing look.

“I-It’s not like that!” you stammer. But is it really? Oh, who are you kidding. It’s becoming harder and harder to deny that you aren’t feeling something for your neighbor. “We live next-door to each other is all,” you mumble, feeling coy.

“Ooh, neighbors to lovers?” Satoru’s gaze inadvertently meets Toji’s from afar before drifting back to yours all full of smug. “Can’t blame you, he is a looker.”

“Satoru.” His teasing laugh turns into a fake yelp when the back of Suguru’s hand meets his chest to reprimand him.

“What, am I wrong? He’s not as good looking as you though, Sugu,” he purrs, lowering his head to the man, bringing a kiss to his cheeks.

“That’s better,” Suguru remarks, casually sipping on his sake.

“Alright, cool it, lover boys,” Shoko sighs, silencing them. She leans her head in your direction, trying to get a better look at the face you’re trying oh so hard to hide. She brushes a few hairs hiding your eyes and you see her own that hold the look of a hungry predator, itching to pounce and sink her teeth into something juicy. In this case ─ your love life. “Tell us everything.” She enunciates each syllable, growing impatient by the second.

“Well…”

☆ Notes: damn the updated version of this is way more fucking depressing LOL I couldn’t help myself but hey, I have PLANS

I guess now would be a good time for me to point out ages so reader would be really early 20s, sashisho + kento and all them mid 20s and then toji just a smidge older, but not too late in the 20s. I just don’t feel like putting established ages on anyone besides the kids since that matters for whatever grade they’re in (ignoring how 6 year old/1st grader megumi is already super independent and talkative)

Originally, I gave Suguru a scar tattoo on his forehead for obvious reasons (not that he is or ever was kenjaku in the OG), but in the restructured version I decided to retcon that bit. I like the idea I see people do instead with kenjaku as an evil twin, but idk if I’ll make that a plot point at this time.

as far as his other tattoos go, i like to imagine it's all styled after the cursed spirits he absorbs in an ukiyo-e style!

[blackdollette]

Hey could you write a Euronymous x innocent (basically complete opposite) reader, where the reader thought her crazy friend was bringing her to some regular party with a lot of convincing cause they usually don’t party (since it’s not her thing) , but instead goes to a metal party and meets him.

Can be fluff/smut whatever hihi

ask & you shall receive :))

"playing a dangerous game." | euronymous

here is part 2!

playing dangerous. - lana del rey

p.s. this has nothing to do with the original oystein aarseth. this is rory's portrayal of the character.

female!reader x euronymous

contents: praise (only once), use of y/n

"you'll have a good time. i promise." your best friend said, ringing the doorbell to the host's house. you sighed, fidgeting with your baby blue gingham print dress. you looked like a doll the way you were dressed and how your makeup was done perfectly.

"if you say so..." you considered going back home, but you'd promised your friend that you would drink the night away with her, and that was an offer that you simply could not turn down.

the door swung open, and a metalhead with a giant cut on his forehead greeted the two of you with a sickly smile. you could see glass bottles flying by behind him. you were confused and slightly irritated. you had been told that this was going to be a friendly little get together, and this looked nothing of the sort.

"what the hell is this?!" you whispered to your friend, but they were already inside, cheering and joining in the commotion. you grumbled softly to yourself before walking into the house.

you looked completely out of place. a drop of colour in a sea of black. there was loud heavy music playing in the speakers that were all over the house. you kept your head down as you tried to get away from the crowd.

your friend had gotten lost in the crowd, leaving you completely deserted. you should've known better since you knew that the two of you had completely different definitions of "fun".

after minutes of searching, you found a back door, leading to a closed yard. you pushed past a bunch of drunk people to make it there. when you finally got out of the house, you took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh, untainted air.

you sat down on the little steps right in front of the door, pulling out your phone to call a ride home. you had no cell service, so you were stuck here. you put your head in your hands, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

you were thinking to yourself for a while before you felt a tap on your shoulder. you looked up and saw the most terrifying face youve ever seen. it was painted white with black eyes, and a mop of black hair to top it all off.

"what's a little thing like you doing here? you get lost on your way to the nursery or something?" euronymous said with a cruel laugh. you felt yourself getting embarrassed, making your cheeks burn.

you stood up and tried to walk past him, but he firmly grabbed your shoulder, making you wince. "i asked you a question." he said, his voice intimidating you so much that you felt your legs starting to tremble.

"i-i... i j-just came here w-with my friend.." you tried to hide your fear, but you failed miserably. eurronymous smirked as he saw the effect he had on you. "a friend, huh? well let me tell you something, doll. friends will do nothing but let you down." his grip on your shoulder tigthened.

"y-yeah. noted." you tried getting away from him again, but he pulled you closer to him. his eyes scanned your entire body, stayed glued to your chest for a fraction of a second.

he let go of you and pulled out a cigarette a lighter from his pocket. he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag. you watched as he did this. he blew the smoke into your face, making you cough.

he laughed before offering you the cigarette. you shook your head. "i-i dont smoke." he gave you a cold glare before muttering under his breath. "fucking poser." you were getting desperate to end this strange interaction. "well, i think ill be going now." you said with a nervous laugh.

"no, i dont think so." he takes another drag. "if you know whats good for you, you'll stick around with me for as long as i say. got it?" he said with a little grin. you werent scared of him anymore, but you still didnt want to rub this guy the wrong way, so you nodded.

"good girl..." he said quietly. he put a hand on your chest and wan it down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "how about we get out of here and head to my place..?" he asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

you nodded, not because you felt that you had no choice, but because you were intrigued by him. you wanted to dig through the layers of his identity.

"the name's euronymous, by the way. but you can call me oystein." he said, his voice softening a little. he extended his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it. you smiled a little. "nice to meet you, oystein. i'm y/n." you took his calloused hand, squeezing it gently.

he looked down at your hands together, a tiny little smile creeping up on his face. he walked out the the back gate of the house, walking away into the night with you trailing beside him.

author's note: im very tempted to write a part 2 of this, but yall should let me know if you would be interested in that. thank you for the request and i hope you enjoyed!

[rintarousgirl]

i wanna be yours — 5. star treatment

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou

a/n: ik this chapter is a bit short, and that it's a bit overdue but i've been so busy LMAO. p.s i know about the typo in oikawa's post shh. anyways, i hope you all enjoy lovies!

You woke up in bed with a splitting headache, the pounding pain behind your eyes being near unbearable. A weak groan escaped your mouth as you threw a hand over your eyes to block the sun.

Thankfully, drunk you had the courtesy of leaving a glass of water and an aspirin on the bed side table. Slowly, squinting as your eyes struggled to adjust to the light, you swallowed down the aspirin and took big mouthfuls of water to ease your dry throat.

As you think to recall last night, you stand up to change out of your clothes. You're sweaty, but you notice that you are wearing a change of clothes. They're a bit baggy on you, clearly made for someone a lot taller than you were. You rub your head, trying to recall what had happened.

"You're covered in flour," Rintarou points out from his spot at the counter. You glare at him, before looking down to your soiled clothes.

"I never said I was a clean cook. The messier it is, the better it tastes."

He hums non-committedly and takes a sip from his tea. "I'll go steal some clothes from Osamu, stay here."

"Where am I supposed to go?" You huff and turn back to your pizza.

Right, you had made homemade pizza with Rintarou. So, you were now wearing Osamu's clothes. Lovely. From before that though your memory goes iffy. You struggle to remember a good amount of it, as if you'd blacked out or something. Which technically you probably had. You remember vomiting, and hanging out with Suna for the rest of the night till you were sober enough to drive yourself home.

After peeling off your clothes and showering, you head back into your room. Your studio apartment was small, which meant you had communal washing and drying. You'd make sure to wash Osamu's clothes as quickly as possible.

Picking up your phone, your eyes widen at the surplus of notifications. You had over thirty text messages, and over thirty thousand notifications from twitter. You could get used to a lot of twitter notifications with your business, but all that in one night seemed impossible to you.

With slightly trembling hands, you opened twitter, feeling a pit grow in your stomach as you scrolled through your notifications.

Despite all the negative posts from fans, you find yourself smiling at the pictures from last night. After making pizza, you and Rintarou had joined the others, dancing and playing games until everyone was either black out drunk or exhausted. You also remember doing karaoke with Yachi, laughing at the video of the two of you that Atsumu had posted.

Exiting twitter, you switch to your messaging app. You notice a few short messages between you and Rintarou, and that you'd gotten Yachi and Osamu's numbers in your phone at one point. Instead, you look at the texts from your friends.

Sighing, you gnaw on your lip. You send a quick to Kenma, Bokuto, and Kuroo assuring them that you were okay and that you'd explain later before pressing on the call button.

It rings only once before Akaashi picks up. "Y/N? Are you alright?" are the first words out of his mouth, and you swallow softly with a sigh. You collapse back down on your bed, rubbing at your eyes.

"I'm alright, 'Kash. Don't worry."

He huffs. "You could've told me that last night."

"I know, I'm really sorry. I, uh, I went to an after party and I got a bit drunk."

That quiets him a bit. "You never get drunk. Not really at least."

"I know," you groan, feeling a bit more regret seep into you. "I was being stupid, okay? I'm sorry I didn't text you or anything. I know you worry a lot."

"It's alright. You're an adult, Y/N. I just...I wouldn't want you to get hurt when I could've done something about it."

"Well, don't worry. I don't plan on doing that again anytime soon. I mean...I embarrassed myself plenty."

There's a teasing tone to Akaashi's next words. "I saw. Kuroo went crazy when he found out you were working for INARIZAKI. I managed to convince him not to harass you about it though. You puked on him, huh?"

"Thanks," you say dryly, "but don't remind me." You drag a hang down your face, shame burning on your cheeks. "It was so bad. But technically, I puked in the bowl so not on him."

"That's still bad."

"I'm going to hang up on you. Why can't we talk about like...I don't know, the pizza or something."

Akaashi laughs, and you find yourself smiling despite it all. "Whatever let's talk about your adventures in person. Favorite cafe at three?"

You hum. "Favorite cafe at three," you confirm.

As you're getting ready, your phone dings with a text message. Absent-mindedly you pick it up and open it.

<- previous | next -> | masterlist

★ - suna was not very chill when he sent that text. he was on the other side of the screen acting like a nervous wreck

★ - osamu's the smaller twin compared to atsumu seeing as atsumu still did have his vb career, just not as long. that's why his clothes aren't completely baggy on y/n (and are what she's wearing in the photo on suna's twt)

★ - akaashi spent most of the night awake waiting for you to text him till bokuto eventually convinced him to sleep for at least a few hours

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

taglist:

@mannaornot \ @gojoscumslut \ @sunarots \ @alienvarmint \ @tojirin \ @tkooooop \ @cheriesdear \ @shotenvinsoot \ @wolffmaiden \ @riiceandsoup \ @thebrownemo \ @vivian-555 \ @effmigentlywithachainsaw \ @rukia-uchiha-98 \ @weird0o0 \ @seiamor \ @rory-cakes \ @blue-violin \ @reveusecherie \ @hellokittylover9 \ @yourlocal-bunny \ @keniza \ @cerberuspuppy1 \ @baramii \ @kirbyscreeper

[beansricejc]

JOHN WICK x READER : The Courier

part 2 (part 1!)

summary: three years have passed since you ran into John, where you refused his offer for a drink. you have climbed the criminal underworld social ladder significantly in the past three years. John sees this as a challenge, and insists that you have that drink with him. sparks fly, slower burn. female reader, 4240 words.

author’s note: i really like going into detail about the reader’s job because girl boss things, lol! if you haven’t, I’d recommend reading part 1 if you’d like, you can certainly read this as a stand alone! pls lmk what you think if you want to! thx! 💕

warnings: nsfw fantasies, alcohol, cursing, implied violence, organized crime, slow burn, significant age gap.

Three years.

It had been three years since you saw the man at that party. The party full of criminal elites, hitmen, you name it. If they were a big deal in the criminal world, they were there that night. You were just starting out then, actually on the job, you had delivered some files to the Continental Manager, Winston, that night. Right before you left, you managed to catch the eye of the world’s most dangerous hitman.

Wick.

John Wick.

He had insisted that you join him for a drink, and you insisted harder that you were working, still on the job. You had other deliveries to run, you didn’t have time to just drop an hour to share conversation and possibly suck face with the man.

You had made yourself known back then, criminals used your services often, and your gig slowly grew. And grew. And grew some more.

Until three years later, you had accidentally created an entire enterprise dedicated for servicing several crime syndicates around New York City.

Before you knew it, you were technically a crime boss. Your business delicately walked the gray area of illegal and legal.

Okay, it was actually super illegal.

You had hired almost 70 women from the local NYC area, all of them that met your standards of talent and experience. Completing deliveries across the city for crime syndicates was tricky work, work that had to be meticulously done.

And with one of the largest servicer businesses in the area, people didn’t just know your name, they feared it.

But why? Why would they fear the CEO of a shady delivery company?

You were neutral territory. With all of the gangs across New York City using your service, they knew better than to decide to mess with you, or your business.

You were like the Switzerland of the criminal underground.

Everyone in the local industry knew this.

And tonight, you had actually been invited to join this party, formally by Winston himself. Your assistant had casually mentioned the event invitation that he emailed you, and despite your higher status on the current criminal food chain, you were still shocked about it.

Your past 48 hours were solely dedicated to being a self care queen. Haircut, mani pedi, facial, eyebrow waxing, you name it. If there was one thing, it was you were were going to be the center of attention tonight.

And you were.

With your form fitting black maxi dress, gold jewlery, perfectly applied makeup and styled hair, you could just sense all of the eyes on you tonight. You had walked in with your small entourage consisting of your personal assistant, and a few personal bodyguards. Of course with you and your non-chalant attitude, you acted like you didn’t know that you were the shit.

And there was John. An almost repeat scene from three years ago, mingling with the same group of OG hitmen in a corner of the hotel lounge. Once again nursing the same brand of bourbon on the rocks, talking about god knows what, probably the worst way they’ve ever killed a group of goons.

John’s eyes scanned the room for any pretty women to hit on tonight, the same old same old. Buy a few drinks, go upstairs with a cute little thing, cum on her back, buy her an uber and send her home. John lost all hope in trying to actually find a romantic interest a long time ago after the passing of his wife, there was just no time for it.

Although, the thought of being battered and bloody, shuffling through the door after a hard days work, and having a pretty girl to patch him up and then subsequently suck him off did sound appealing to him.

Anyways, there John was, scouring through the bar and lounge with his dark brown eyes for something to cum on later this evening, and before he knew it, his eyes darted, and landed on none other, but you.

Y/N.

John widened his eyes, his heartrate increasing a bit just from the mere sight of you. The way your feminine figure looked in that black dress that clung to your body, the way your manicured fingers applied another layer of lipgloss while your assistant spoke to you. The way you introduced yourself to some very dangerous looking Yakuza members but managed to make them laugh with the almost fluent Japanese you were speaking, he was almost in shock.

John keeps an eye on Y/N. He likes your style but he knows you could turn on him at any moment you wanted, even if you weren’t known to jump to violence like most.

You appeared like a typical crime boss, hiding the brutal side of your under layers of class, style, humor, and charm. It's an act. The best are able to hide their dark side behind their public face. John has seen these types in his many years in the business.

But he’d be lying if he said you weren’t the most beautiful woman in this room right now. And your laugh, it travels like wind to his ears, it’s almost ethereal. Was it the liquor? Probably. He didn’t care, it had been years since he’s seen you leave through those doors, and now he’s only heard mere stories of you and your enterprise.

-

“No way, Y/N? She decided to actually come? God, she’s a fucking dime.” one of John’s colleagues that was in his mingling circle commented. John inhaled sharply, snapping out of whatever trance he just had from looking at her.

“You hear she still does her own jobs? Could you imagine any other boss getting their hands dirty in this day in age? I’ll give it to her, she’s a bad bitch.” the same guy said, the rest of the men laugh and agree.

John remembers, it hits him. Y/N isn’t necessarily a hitman, nor does she run a hitman empire. That’s right, she’s an armed, fast, and efficient courier. Not to mention deadly. Her or her team wouldn’t just be regular hitmen for hire, they would only kill if it was necessary to complete their deliveries. And sometimes, it was definitely necessary.

John has only heard of the high speed chases that she or her crew took part in against the police, or even people that want to get their hands on whatever they were transporting. And what did this woman of great skill use to transport important items for crime bosses?

Simple.

A Kawasaki Ninja H2.

An absolute beast, somehow street legal that had a top speed of 209 miles per hour. With a two-speed centrifugal supercharger and the best suspension on the market. Anyone without the skillset of Y/N or even one of her employees didn’t stand a chance to utilize this creature to it’s full potential.

The thought of riding one of those magnificent bikes sent a chill down John’s spine.

Not only did she have one, but every woman under her employment was issued one for jobs as well. The fastest street legal bike there was.

“Remember when she totally cock blocked you three years ago?” one of his colleagues, Parker, reminded John, snickering after. John’s face gave a deadpan expression to the laughing group of men, as he downed the rest of his liquor and demanded a refill from the bartender. The worker obliged without hesitation, pouring the brown liquid into his crystal clear glass, and John took a large drag from the cup, finishing about half of it in one go.

One thing that John had always regretted in the past few years since meeting that woman, was not being persistent enough.

The status she had obtained over the years was something to behold. Not only was she young, but she had climbed the social ladder in his industry faster than he had ever seen. He could see how too, with what was displayed about 45 feet away from his eyes.

Y/N with her entourage of bodyguards, a personal assistant, with her confident demeanor demanding respect with a subtle tone in her voice as she spoke in a foreign language, to these Yakuza members no less.

She was this pretty little thing, with a beautiful smile and laugh. But John could see the beast of her personality and lethal skill behind that feminine figure.

And he was intimidated to say the least. Not petrified or scared for his life, the potential to be a worthy adversary was there, lingering in the air.

And John was slightly turned on by it.

-

You were laughing with these Japanese criminals as your gaze was distracted from the wolf that was stalking you from all the way at the oak carved bar. Your heartrate sped up a bit, images of your first and last encounter, at this very same location infiltrated your brain. It was short but you wouldn’t consider it sweet.

Tense? Yeah.

John was clearly interested in something besides for sharing small talk over a drink, and seemed to take offense that you had more work you had to take care of that night. You stuck out like a sore thumb that night, with a motorcycle helmet on your head, in a crowd of people in black tie dress wear at the party.

And look what we had here, three years later.

Except instead of a wolf stalking his prey, it was a fair duel. Carnivor versus carnivor, in a sense. Both with a reputation and a high standing in the underground, no matter how long it was. You only had a few years under your belt, whereas John, had decades. And that was the most intimidating thing about him to you. Experience.

John decided he would take you as his challenge of the night. He may have failed three years ago, when you were nothing but a simple service provider, and he didn’t expect anything more this time around. But fuck it, right?

Let’s be a bit more persistent this time around, Wick. John thought to himself as he sauntered towards your stunned form.

Round two huh? No shit. You think, stifling a laugh and replying to something that one of the Japanese men said to you. You take another sip of your dirty martini, leaving a lipgloss stain on your glass as your eyes traveled up to John’s staggering expression as he finally approached you fully. You don’t move or say a word, in fact, one of your very large bodyguards steps between the two of you and begins to pat John down for any weapons he could possibly have on him.

John knew better than to carry a gun to a party hosted by the Continental. Besides, he hardly needed it. He was the weapon of the century, as far as he was concerned.

The bodyguard saw he was clean but knew that John was still a threat, if he really wanted to be. However, the guard stepped to the side, back to his original position, slightly behind Y/N’s much smaller and less menacing form.

A coy smirk painted your face when you finally meet his gaze again, as you delicately hold out your hand out towards John. He gladly takes it in his much larger, calloused hands, bending over slightly and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. A normal greeting for a woman of your position in this industry.

“You’re quite the persistent man, John.” you chuckle, as his lips leave your hand and he looked back at you, smiling in an almost tauntful manner.

That familiar scent of John Wick hits your nostrils once again. Patchouli, tobacco, and, gunpowder? Someone’s been busy.

“You’re not the first to notice, Y/N.” John retorts, holding up his glass to you in agreement. His knuckles are covered in freshly changed bandages, with yellow bruising peeking out from underneath them. “I’ve heard business is booming.” he comments, you roll your eyes and sigh.

“You could say that. A lot has changed in 3 years, as you can tell.” you reply, noticing that his dark brown eyes are studying everything about you. Classic hitman behavior. Your expressions, emotional state, movements, even the way that your nose scrunched when you smiled or laughed. Almost as if he’s unintentionally sizing you up, and this makes you chuckle.

“Oh, trust me. I know.” was the only thing John could reply to that. He realized you have caught him soaking in all of your features, including those tempting glossy lips of yours.

Sinful thoughts enter his mind, and he has to try his hardest not to give into them at this very moment.

He’s wondering what else those lips could do, he’s been fantasizing about you since day one, of course he’d never admit it. John was a notorious playboy after the death of his wife, his pride was too big to say that he may have regretted not going for you a little harder.

The thought of shoving you against one of his hotel room walls, with a thud that echoed out to the hallway ensuing from it. He’d loom over your much shorter frame, and you would breathe heavily, anticipating the hitman to not hold anything back with you. Moments of silence passed before he slammed his lips onto those pretty pink ones he’s been dreaming of for so long. Biting down on the flesh of your bottom lip, hands searching frantically for your core, ripping whatever fabric you had guarding it and teasing your clit with expertise. Slow and precise circles, just to torture you. You’d gasp at the sensation, leaving the perfect time for him to take over the kiss by tossing his tongue into your mouth, his other hand going to your neck and squeezing to keep you in your current spot. You wouldn’t be going anywhere, anytime soon.

“Did you want something?” you asked John, forcing him out of the fabrication that tantalized his brain. John cleared his throat, and laughed nervously.

“Was wondering, if you’d have that drink with me now.” John requested, nodding to the barren martini glass in your hand. You sighed, knowing that you were attracted to this older man, no matter how many times you tried to deny it to yourself.

You were the head of a criminal powerhouse, a young woman, independent, deadly, and an expert in your craft. Of course you didn’t want to be at the whim of some man that happened to get your attention, romantically, sexually, it didn’t matter. Besides, there was hardly time for it with the position you held.

But here you were, obliging John fucking Wick in having a drink with him, after three years of denying him.

Damn your hormones. Damn this man and his long dark hair.

So a drink you had. Then another drink. And a couple of shots, John wanted to know what the kids were drinking these days, so of course you had to show him. In the past couple of hours of actually easy going conversation, he had realized you were damn near his exact type of woman. Clever, with a great sense of humor, and fairly kind, all things considered. He could tell you weren’t just some underworld nepo-baby, and that you came from a humble upbringing, which made him even more attracted to you. (If that was even possible).

He met a woman who could keep up, even lead, a conversation with him.

If he was the Boogeyman, you were the Devil herself. Quick witted and sharp tongued, he couldn’t help but be even more intrigued after every sentence you dropped from your mouth.

The guests at this party were astonished to say the least.

The pair were certainly, a unique match. A young crime boss managing to make the world’s deadliest man open up like a badly wrapped package after a few drinks and good banter. What a sight to behold.

The night however, was ending. To his surprise, you were finishing the night up with a canned Pabst Blue Ribbon, a true contradiction to your current high ranking and your black tie event dress. John couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised, and noticed that the alcohol was certainly hitting the both of you.

You had told your personal protection entourage that they could go to their respective hotel rooms for the night, knowing that John wouldn’t be deemed a threat to you after he had showed you images of his Blue Stafford Terrier on his phone.

“You mind if I, uh, walk you to your room?” John hiccuped as he asked, you giggled at this mannerisms, giving your signature nose crinkle that your face did whenever you smiled. Your grabbed your leather purse and left some large bills on the counter to cover for your drinks. John slid your cash back to you, waving the gesture you gave off.

“I already took care of it. Don’t you dare.” John informed you, tossing you a wink and you rolled your eyes at his ever so flirtatious nature.

“Well, unnecessary, but thank you.” you drunkenly told him, sliding the large bills over to your bartender for his tip, shrugging at John. He raised his eyebrows, and took that generous action down in his head.

Treats waitstaff well. Noted. John thought to himself while the palm of his hand found it’s way to the small of your back, taking in the feel of the luxurious fabric. He led you out of the lounge and towards the elevators, managing to snag an empty one to help you into, not that you really needed the help, he was just being a gentleman.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be a gentleman with you. Maybe it was your high status? Maybe it was because he felt different with you than with other women he casually hit on at the bar.

“Which floor?” John asked, and you looked up at his handsome face, drinking in his sharp and manly features. You didn’t know why (it was the liquor) but you giggled a bit at him.

“8.” you simply told him, and he pressed the button to that exact floor.

The doors shut, and John cleared his throat.

And here comes the tension. Was it like the movies? Would this ride up the hotel floors ensue in a steamy makeout session?

Of course not.

This was you we were talking about. You were ridiculous. So of course you checked your phone for anything important, and John couldn’t help but take a look to see if you were secretive. You weren’t. (It was the liquor, usually you were).

You had received a string of memes from one of your closest friends and assistant, Marissa. You two were very close, and she had been a part of your enterprise since day one.

-

John could tell, the age gap was evident. Shown explicitly by Y/N giggling and intoxicated at these random pictures she had been sent.

John took a closer look.

He was staring at a photoshopped image of a Hello Kitty head pasted onto a muscular matching body. John raised his eyebrows. He read the caption on the picture, which read: if the homies are sleeping on you, spoon them.

“Wh-what the fuck am I looking at?” John slipped up, as Y/N was giggling nonstop at the image on her phone.

“It’s a masterpiece, you just- you just don’t get it. And that's okay.” Y/N replied as the elevator doors opened to the floor that your room was on.

John shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of the joke.

The consequences of hanging out with the younger generation.

John escorted Y/N to her room, where you took out your room card and sighed. The butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely haywire at the moment, and you didn’t know if that was because of the alcohol, or the DILF of a man gazing down at her with a romantic look in his deep brown eyes.

There was the tension. Thick enough to cause a fog in the room, it tingled between them as they both bore into each other’s eyes.

Fuck it. John thought, his head dipping a bit, Y/N’s hand lifting to his chest to stop his movement. Her heartbeat was out of control, and the anxiety had finally caught up to you. Here was this absolute art piece of a man who she had been getting along with all night, all worked up and ready to go. You took a deep breath.

“J-John. I don’t really, do this sort of thing, I’m just too busy for any of it.” you admit to him. John’s soul plummets into the pit of his liquor filled stomach, he had been expecting to kiss this woman who had been keeping him good company all night.

Well, that killed the mood, didn’t it?

You weren’t good at this sort of thing, of course you’ve had several ex boyfriends in the past, but for a few years, you hadn’t indulged in any sort of relationship, mainly because of the hunk of responsibility that has now weighed down on your back.

“God dammit.” you curse at yourself as you cave in, wrapping your hands quickly around John’s neck and pull him in, crashing your lips onto his as he first intended to do. The passion between the both of you could have been caused by the alcohol, or by the banter you two had shared at the bar for the past few hours. John grunts in surprise but he isn’t mad at all, very satisfied actually. His hands find their way to your well shaped hips, which your dress was so delicately covering, and his fingers give you a taunting squeeze in response to your sudden change of heart.

John’s teeth do what he had imagined earlier when he first spoke to you, biting down on your bottom lip, earning a squeak of surprise from you. He can’t help but smile into the kiss, humming in affirmation to your cute noise.

The pair of you break away, both breathing heavily, you’re slightly dizzy from the alcohol, and he is dizzy on the thought of fucking you right here any now against the wall. The scratch of his beard still stung your mouth and cheeks but you didn’t mind. It was a reminder of him, even though he was right there in front of you. Your breath hitched as John watched your prominent chest rise and fall with each heavy breath that you took.

“Um, how about I give you my card, okay?” you ask, fishing out a black and metal business card and slipping it into John’s right hand. He’s taken aback by the coolness of the metal against his warm skin, and nodded into your forehead, that he was touching with his own.

John cleared his throat, that was still tingling from all of the alcohol he had with you tonight.

“Y-yeah. That’s perfect.” John answered. You press your lips together, a pink hue dashes upon your cheeks and nose after the kiss, you haven’t done anything like this in a few years.

Jesus Christ, what are you, a middle schooler? Pull yourself together, girly. You think to yourself.

“Alright,” you sigh, slipping your key card into the lock on the hotel door, opening it. You pause to look back up at John, still in your drunken and flustered phase from that kiss you two shared. “Just text me, ‘kay?” you ask, shooting him a nervous but still excited smile, before you swoop into the room, barricading yourself from John with the hotel door.

It closes, and clicks to let you know it’s locked.

You hurry to the bathroom and take a long deep breath, smacking yourself on the cheeks and splashing cold water on your face to knock yourself out of this state of anxiety you’re in.

John is still frozen in front of your hotel room door that you have just escaped behind, he shakes himself out of it and peeks down a the metal engraved business card.

It has your first and last name, phone number, email, and various social media accounts listed on the small card.

He still can’t believe what just happened.

Y/N, the ever so popular crime boss that was the next big thing, just melted like a schoolgirl in his arms.

No fucking way. John thinks, laughing a bit in disbelief.

He shuffles back to his hotel room, which happened to be on the same floor as yours, it’s down a few doors and to the right. He enters, goes inside and plops himself down on the bed, staring at the card that he still had in his hand.

“God, she’s hot.” He mumbled to himself, thoughts are racing through his mind, some innocent, most are filthy.

The image of you bent over his kitchen counter while pounding you into submission, spanking you hard on your nicely shaped ass while you scream his name is the consistent image in his head. Or him grabbing your hair, pulling your head back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he fucked, and fucked, and fucked you from behind.

John blinked a few times, realizing he now has a completely hard cock because of the fantasy that couldn’t seem to go away just now.

Well, looks like the playboy would have to take care of himself again. It wasn’t the first time he did it after meeting you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

[pollenallergie]

thinking about coming home from a family christmas party with billy knight.

carefully toeing your shoes off at the door, pulling off your handmade gloves and unwrapping your handmade scarves, which billy had knitted himself so that you could both having matching winter wear. you take his scarf and gloves from him and place them, along with your own, in the nearby coat closet with an abundance of care. you’re always so careful with the things billy makes you — hand washing them and treating them delicately so you can keep them in good condition for as long as possible — he’s always touched when he watches how much you treasure them.

while you were busy putting yours and billy’s coats and other winter garments away, he’d padded off to the kitchen with socked feet to go put the kettle on, figuring you’d both need a warm cuppa after walking home in the cold. as the kettle heats up and the water begins to rumble softly within, nearing a boil, billy carefully peels off his jumper and the nice dress shirt he’d had on underneath.

soon enough, you make your way into the kitchen as well, smiling at the sight of him impatiently waiting for the water to boil. billy’s an exceedingly patient man, but one thing he cannot tolerate is coldness. billy hates being cold, which is especially unfortunate given how easily he gets cold thanks to his circulation issues. the cold winter winds always turn him into a bit of a grouch, at least until he’s able to go inside, warm up with some tea, and snuggle up in bed with the love of his life (you), his service dog, a lab called daisy, and his adorable, geriatric tabby cat, dennis.

you wordlessly hold your hand out to billy and, without even having to think about it, he knows exactly what to do. he takes off his watch, his Saint Anthony necklace, and his rings and hands them to you with a warm smile and soft, “thank you, love.” this is your routine, despite not going out much, the two of you know it well, have all the steps memorized:

you enter your flat and take off your outerwear. while you put said outwear away, billy pads off to the kitchen where he, ever the eccentric fellow, strips down to his briefs, desperate to get out of his outside clothes, and prepares tea and a snack for the two of you. you two cross paths when you pass through the kitchen on your way back to the bedroom, where you’ll change into your pyjamas, equally as desperate to get out of your outside clothes, and before you exit the kitchen, you retrieve his various accessories from him so that you can carefully put them away with your own, in your jewelry box, while you change. by the time you reemerge from your shared bedroom, billy’ll have everything ready.

and that’s exactly what happens tonight.

you walk back into the kitchen wearing a cosy set of pyjamas that he’d gotten you for christmas last year, your hair tied back the way you prefer it when you’re at home relaxing, and your face cleaned of any makeup. billy sets the cups of tea down on the table alongside the biscuits he retrieved from the pantry, freeing up his hands before turning to you and reaching out to you with open arms in preparation for the hug that he knows you want right now; you always do in this part of your routine. you set aside the pyjama pants and more casual jumper you’d brought out for him, and then eagerly accept his offering.

as you melt into his embrace, you all but smoosh your face into his warm, freckled chest and your wrap your arms around his waist, clinging onto him and sharing your warmth. he smells amazing, like the fancy cologne you’d gotten him, the one he only wears on special occasions, tinted with his own personal scent and the faint remnants of the fragrance of the soap he’s used in the shower this morning. you breathe him in slow, grounding breaths. you’re both exhausted from socialising and the post-party come down definitely wears on you. it’s not that you two didn’t enjoy your family’s holiday party, you did! truly, you love spending time with your family and billy, watching him unintentionally woo your great aunt shirley and coo at your niece as he rocks her in his arms. however, you and billy are definitely quite introverted, so even the best kinds of socialisation can wear you out pretty easily, which makes this post-event ritual all the more essential for the two of you.

reluctantly, you pull away so that billy can change into his own pyjamas, and sit down at the kitchen table, enjoying some of your snack as you wait for him. soon enough, billy joins you at the table and begins to eat his own snack and drink his cuppa; a nice steamy cup of chamomile, just like the one he’d prepared for you to go with your snack. once you’ve had your fill of biscuits, the two of you decide to relocate with your cuppas to the sofa so that you can snuggle and indulge in that wonderful closeness you both crave so much right now.

you curl up underneath a soft knitted throw blanket, another one of billy’s lovely creations, and sip your tea as you watch a nature documentary together. billy loves nature documentaries, especially when he needs to wind down after a full day of socialisation and overstimulation. tonight’s pick is a bbc special about wild dogs and billy claims he picked it because it’s important that daisy “learns about her ancestors.” silly man.

[zvmz]

A few Ashlynn Ella HCs <3

Despite being a royalty, Ashlynn grew up having normal household chores such as sweeping and washing the dishes, she's usually working alongside the maids

she is immensely loved by the entire castle staff

cinderella hosts a banquet every year on Ashlynn's birthday

and every year ashlynn asks as much as the staff as possible to eat alongside the royals

didn't get her own phone until she moved to eah

still almost never uses it. probably takes 2-3 business days to reply to a text message

briar ends up spamming her all the time to get her to finally reply

since its part of Ashlynn's destiny for her mom to die first, her mom probably fell ill shortly after Ashlynn signed the storybook of legends

which shouldn't have happened, since Ashlynn only signed the fake book

the truth is that milton grimm poisoned her to cover up the truth

hunter taught her how to use a bow

and she actually got pretty good at it

gets way too excited for pumpkin spice season

has SO MANY candles in her room

also has a huge collection of cardigans

grows her own veggies and herbs to cook with

she and hunter have like a thousand cringey pet names for each other

but she mostly calls him "sweet cheeks", "handsome", or "Honey Bunny"

while he will mostly call her "pumpkin", "babe" or "sweetie"

if they are together for too long their pet names will get progressively more absurd

like why did she just call him Hottie McHotpants

why did he just call her pookie wookie dookie bookie moo-

since Ashlynn's mom can also speak to animals, and is also very much against slaughtering animals, they only keep livestock for milk, eggs, ect. (these are for others who live in the castle, ashlynn and her mom are vegan)

before going to spellementary school and meeting briar and apple, she considered her best friend to be a cow

this cow was born the same week as ashlynn, so they kind of grew up together

she still comes to talk to the cow every time she visits home, unfortunately cows only live 15-20 years, so she doesn't have much time left

she always gets talked to by teachers for having muddy shoes and dirt under her fingernails

even when ashlynn was a royal, cerise always felt strangely at ease around her

never gets any of briars meme references, but laughs anyway

ALWAYS helps clean up after parties

she owns a car and has a license, but never drives unless absolutely necessary because its bad for the environment

she will either walk, bike, or ride horseback/carriage depending on the distance she needs to go

has multiple terrariums she uses to nurse little creatures back to health, before releasing them back into the wild

uses very little makeup day-to-day, just blush and mascara

has a bunch of dried flowers hanging upside-down in her dorm

uses work and cleaning as coping mechanisms

is definitely too nice for her own good. like customers or basically anyone can be SO rude to her and she will never stand up for herself

is constantly telling herself "maybe they just had a bad day?"

it drives briar nuts

if someone got her order wrong at a restaurant briar would have to tell a server because ashlynn was just going to eat it anyway

she'd still leave a huge tip, even if she didn't get good service