Trad Goth Makeup Novels & Stories

Well, that and my tits, which even I’ll admit are a standout feature. Stopping by the mirror, I take stock. My base from earlier has held up surprisingly well. A quick sweep of powder takes care of any shine, and my pale complexion is still smooth and even. My brows are glued down and flawless, the black pomade sharp as hell. I add a pop of pussy-pink blush high on my cheekbones, blending it onto my eyelids for a soft, cohesive glow. Then comes the pièce de résistance: a thick black wing that I could apply in my sleep after years of practice. I finish with my favourite wispy lashes and a swipe of glittery lip gloss. Perfect. Sliding on my stompy black boots, the ones with a platform and a ri

Goth has green eyes, blond straight long hair that was tied into a ponytail, he wore a white T-shirt with blue denim and was very muscular build. Carolyne tilted her head as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. She slowly stood up and reached her hand out towards Goth. “Hey Goth, I'm Carolyne, Amore's best friend. We will be seeing each other a lot.” Carolyne said in a flirtatious voice. Goth took Carolyne's hand and gave it a little shake. He let go of her hand but didn't pay her any further attention. “Carolyne, aren't you spaying on James and Caity today?”Nathan asked as he looked at Carolyne's flirtatious behavior towards Goth.

I can feel it. Walking into the back room, he’s there. He smiles when he sees me, but it’s a professional smile, not at all like the sultry little ones I catch him sending my way. “I’m glad you’re here. Your make-up is the most complicated, and we need to get started, plus I want to see the final look. Trish,” he calls over his shoulder as he guides me to a chair. The same make-up artist from last time comes over smiling. Andrew points to my cheekbones. “Masque make-up, heavy blues and greens, think mermaid. Lips need to match. Hair loose and as smooth as you can possibly get it.”

We talked for a bit before deciding it was time to head back and get ready for the ceremony. I was always the worst with makeup, so Greta promised to help me get ready in her and Tom's room. First, she straightened my hair and pinned my hair back to leave my face open. Next, she used different shades of purple on my eyelids and a nice thin line of eyeliner—a bit of blush and mascara. "Seriously, sometimes I wonder how you suck so bad at applying makeup." Greta laughed as she turned me to the mirror. "It's not like you need it but damn."

] Leaning against the wall, she knocked on the third tile and received a hollow sound. "Bingo," she smiled as she proceeded to take it off. A black bag was hidden inside the space. Marvel did a great job. She packed the right clothes inside the bag. A short black dress, a red jacket, fishnets and pink blonde wig. Not to mention a makeup kit. Quickly, she changed into the outfit and applied her makeup. By the time she was done, Reese had transformed into a gorgeous goth teenager. The heeled boots were a little high but that was the deal with goth boots.

Then I stalked to the windows, yanked the heavy blackout curtains from their rods, black velvet, thick enough to smother screams and shredded them into ribbons too. I stood in the wreckage looking pleased and I went to the shower, took my bath and came back naked, surrounded by carnage, and started dressing. Not in clothes but war paint. I twisted the crimson silk around my hips, low, dangerously low, knotting it on one side so the slit rode all the way up to the top of my thigh. Another strip I wound tight around my ribs, under my breasts, pushing them up like an offering and a threat at the same time. The black velvet I sliced into thin straps, crossing them over my chest, around my throat

"Tonight, you need to look devastating." Tiana's usual makeup routine was simple… lip gloss, mascara, maybe a little blush if she was feeling fancy. After all, she was naturally beautiful. She didn't need much. But Lyn had other plans. She worked like an artist, brushes moving across Tiana's face with practiced precision. Foundation that made her skin glow. Contouring that sharpened her cheekbones. Eyeshadow in shades of silver and blue that made her eyes look impossibly large and luminous. Eyeliner that gave her a sultry, mysterious look. Lipstick in a deep rose that made her lips look fuller and softer.

"Where did this poor nobody come from? How dare you touch my wedding dress?!" The wedding was just days away. I had come to the boutique to see my custom-made gown. But the moment I laid hands on it, I was slapped hard across the face. The dress was ripped from my grasp. The scattered crystals cut my fingers, sending a sharp pain shooting up my arm. I frowned. "Who are you? This is my wedding dress!" She slapped me again, shouting, "You wretched little—! You've dirtied my dress! You're going to pay for it! Do you even know how expensive this is? They'd have to sell you just to cover it!"

“You look like a corpse, Tristan. Not a groom. If you walk into that hall looking like this, Cassius will get suspicious. The guests will whisper. The press will have a field day.” “What do you suggest?” She stood up, went to the bag she had left on the table, and pulled out a makeup kit. “I’m going to do what I do best. Turn shit into a work of art.” “Thaïs…” “Shut up and sit up straight.” I obeyed. It was easier than arguing.

Gigi reached the restaurant in about twenty minutes. But instead of heading inside, she stayed in her car and dug through her bag for every makeup product she needed for her makeover. And because those mafia lords always seemed to love a woman with color, she pulled out a multicolored wig and slipped it on. After that, she caked her face with a foundation two shades lighter. Bright green eyeshadow smeared messily across her lids so he would see her as a green flag, obviously. A furious red blush dominated her cheeks, the kind of shade that screamed "bold and sexy." Her purple eyeliner was uneven to make her stand out amongst the crowd.