Novel & Cerita Liv Morgan No Makeup

Why keep up the thin paper window of politeness? Ray ignored both the soup and the offered spoon. He took another drag on his cigarette, voice flat: “You’re not the only one who wants that role. So tell me—why you? On what grounds should I give it to you?” Morgan wasn’t flustered. She didn’t rush. Instead, she hooked a fingertip under the edge of her dress, letting the fabric slide off in one fluid motion. There was nothing else beneath. Her body—toned from years of gym routines—unfolded before him, curves sharp yet soft, a sculpted prize on display.

Lory murmured softly. Hanna went to her room, still sulking. The night dragged on as she applied the substance to her skin. She let it harden before mixing everything. With the help of a hairdryer, she created a strange layer over her face, then applied compact powder to disguise it and give her skin a gelatinous appearance. "Morgan will be so disgusted by me that he'll wish never to see my face. So... to avoid seeing me, he'll give me everything I ask for," she muttered as she finished her makeup.

She then brought out her ring light, she began setting up her camera for filming her makeup removal process. Morgan was a well-known actress and social media influencer, with many years of fame and growing up in a rich home, she had amassed a great number of followers with over thirteen million followers on I*******m. After setting up her camera, she began filming as she interacted with the camera, sharing how her day went. Afterward, she then paused the filming and immediately took a quick shower.

“For your livestream. The sponsor window opens in ten. You’re scheduled to talk about Lilith Noir and do a Q&A.” I blink. “Right. Yes. That thing. Totally prepped.” Emily taps her phone. “Say the name of the perfume at least seven times. Mention the words sensual, empowering, and mystique. Got it?” Nope. But I nod. “And you’ve got a shoot at two. We’re doing natural skin, subtle glam. Think Venus in Paris, not Bratz doll on Red Bull.” “Right.” I nod like I understood any of that. Emily finally glances up. “Try not to look bored.”

It was unbearable. Later in the morning, Olivia was dressed casually in an apricot flay gown, that stopped above her knees, with a sweetheart neckline. She tied her hair into an undone bun, leaving a few curly strands to fall down. Olivia wasn't feeling like herself, her spirit was down so was her mood. She didn't have the energy to look good or to impress Morgan's father, she applied no make-up and didn't care about looking in the mirror. She strode out of the room, walking to the dinning to join Morgan, since the meal had been served, even though she had no appetite.

She removed her hat, mask, and sunglasses, revealing her delicate, small face and perfectly proportioned features. She looked even more beautiful and lively in person than on television. More importantly, Ivy had no makeup on. She did not have eyelash extensions, eyeliner, or even lipstick. She was makeup-free. Even without makeup, she looked so good; if she put some on, she must be a celestial beauty. Fiona found himself somewhat lost in the comparison. She deserved her stardom. Lulu seemed so naive next to her.

Aurora first took a long shower and then she was seated in front of a dresser with a full-sized mirror facing her. While two hair stylists fumbled with her hair, the make-up artist started to apply makeup for her. The wounds and bruises on her face and body were carefully covered by concealers. The stylist gave her a sultry, smoky eye look with dark eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, and coats of mascara. Her gorgeous face was brought out with a touch of bronzer and glittering highlighter, and a nude lip color with a glossy finish. As the stylists worked with her face and hair, Morgana was sitting on the couch flipping through a shopping brochure, choosing an outfit for her.

I stared at the clock to the left of us…fuck, we have just fifteen minutes left. A part of me was ready to give up and give in, but I knew Morgan. I knew the girl who would spend hours practicing a spontaneous hair flip in the mirror because she felt it gave her an aura no other girl could match, not even Roxanne. She was an actress who lived for the applause of an audience she felt superior to.

A brown Lululemon crossbody bag was slung across my chest, offering a practical yet stylish touch to my ensemble I applied a light coat of mascara, a hint of blush, and finished with a swipe of Summer Fridays’ Pink Sugar lip gloss. The minimal makeup enhanced my features without overshadowing them. As I took one final look, a sense of satisfaction washed over me—I felt like myself, and that was enough.

"I'm serious, Anna. Let's go!" "Okay. But first, I need to use the restroom." "Really?" "Relax, he won't see you." She got up from her seat at the table right in front of me. "I'll be right back." I picked up my glass to hide my face. Mr. Morgan was sitting near the bar, wearing a black overcoat and gloves. His hair was perfectly styled. He didn't look like the drenched man who was in my apartment this morning. Whenever his hair was so well-groomed, I felt the urge to run my hands through it, to feel it between my fingers and pull it.