vi grunts, nose wrinkling while her hands rest on your thighs on either side of her hips. you’re holding a makeup palette, with an absolute stockpile of makeup brushes, eyeshadow palettes… lipglosses beside the both of you on the bed.

vi rarely wears heavy makeup. sure, shes happy with a bit of eyeliner or eyeshadow on a day to day basis, but she’ll argue she’s just fine without any. plus, vi hates the feeling of shit on her face that isn’t even permanent. she just doesn’t understand the appeal.

…she’ll indulge you, though. only occasionally she’ll let you have fun with her face as your blank canvas. sometimes you’ll draw doodles around her ‘vi’ tattoo, sometimes you’ll just kiss her face in coloured lipstick so that there’s red and purple lip prints smeared on her cheeks and forehead.

“..cupcake,” vi grumbles, nails running up and down your bare thighs. you’re so cute like this. ugh.

“hey. baby, c’mon. don’t make me into a clown like you did last time. i can feel you doing something on my cheek— hey.”