As a man loses himself reading a tinker's guide to weapon modification, he passes the time at the bookstore Blake popped into. Without even realizing it, he sat next to Blake to prep himself to make his new Semblance-enhancing gauntlets. Hours later, he'd read up enough to have grabbed a notebook and drafted the initial sketches with a pencil he found; Blake was sitting next to him, tearing through a short novel, occasionally watching him sketch. While the two had only intended to drop in, she ended up finishing a whole book and he had a complete weapon blueprint that would have taken a day or two had he not focused so much.
"And… done!" Blake cheers, closing her book. "That was a good read. And where are you?"
Eraser shavings litter the area around the man, and his hands were covered in graphite, blackened by the work. With a final stroke, he finishes the final draft of the prototype blueprint. "Well, it'll still need to be tested, and I think I'll ask Ruby to revise it after a few trials, but this should be a full diagram of my gloves!"
Blake places her book on a nearby cart and claps. "I'm impressed! How many did you go through?"
The man flips back through the notebook he just realizes he needs to pay for. The first twenty pages or so were outlining the general idea of the gloves, the next twenty consisted of parts needed and how they'd fit together, the next tenish were drafts of the final product, one was spent on naming it, and the last page almost at the center of the notebook was the final blueprint. "Well, I've gone through almost half of this notebook. I'm not sure I've EVER been this productive."
"The only person I've seen use that much paper to draft something was Ruby," Blake points out. "Though, she's gone through about five notebooks thinking up modifications for everybody's weapon. She'll be thrilled you marked your progress, actually."
"I know what I'm doing tomorrow, that's for sure. Any more thinking and I'll explode. What time is it? It's about time we get back, anyhow."
Blake checks her scroll. "Oh, my. We managed to waste four hours here. It's 7:30. We finished coffee at what, 3ish?" She giggles.
"Well used. It'd have taken days of procrastination to draft this. Let's get back and grab some dinner."
Blake looks down at her stomach, a faint rumble passing through her buttoned top. "I think… Yeah, I'm doing to cook some of that pasta. Shrimp Alfredo Scampi sound good?"
"That sounds amazing. I can help."
The man pays for the sketchbook and leads Blake back to his apartment. Shortly after, the two spend time in between rounds of Savage Streets cheerily eating pasta; Blake had wanted to do a little more practice for her inescapable battle against Yang, so he was trying to pose a bit of a threat as Delta Red. She was still above the skill level after only a little play, though, but it was still a lot of fun.
"I wonder who on the dev team looked at the roster and thought, 'You know what? Obese biker that burps a lot.'" The man stares at Blake's character, allegedly the best matchup against Delta Red: Bogey, the truck of a man, stomach bursting out of a small leather jacket. As the win animation plays, he shoves a giant donut in his mouth, then burps enough to shake the screen.
"Yang says it's because they saw they had too many cute girls," Blake says, sitting cross-legged on the arm of your couch. "Something about how they rejoiced when they were allowed to model a different body type." She backs out of the match and starts flicking through the cast; between a few hunkish karate men, there was a gorgeous woman with killer legs, the thong-clad Delta Red, a high-class rich girl with ringlets, a woman with half a shirt, a woman with half a skirt, a woman with a skin-tight bodysuit, and the list went on. "Not that I'd prefer a… design like him," she let out as she reaches Bogey. He was a creature compared to the rest of the cast.
"I'm surprised anyone would want that."
"His existence offends Yang, which will probably help when I play as him. How she doesn't get distracted by her character I don't understand, though." Blake goes back over Delta Red and nonchalantly watches as her select animation sends her breasts jiggling.
"What could you possibly be talking about? There's nothing distracting about a woman doing the splits in a thong."
"Yang said she wants to cosplay her one day and I pray the world survives. That woman in that outfit, WOW." Blake takes a moment to daydream about Yang in a thong leotard.
"Weiss isn't here, so I can say that yes, that would be a very enjoyable sight. So are you two like… well, you said you aren't looking for a partner."
Blake puts her controller down. Stretching a bit, she says, "You're asking if I like girls, aren't you? Personally, I'm convinced that that woman can hit at least some notes for every person alive, but yes, I'm bisexual. I say that explicitly because there still exist people that can't know something unless you bash them over the head with the information. There's even a study that shows that bisexuality is significantly more common in hunters and huntresses, but people still think I like girls because guys will think it's hot." Her cadence informs the man that she's had to have a similar conversation with less understanding people. "And no, I'm not looking for a relationship right now, but like, have you seen her butt?"
No amount of love for Weiss could make the man deny an honest truth. Anyone with eyes and the slightest attraction to women could see that Yang Xiao Long had a smoking hot ass and loved to let people know; long have those shorts of hers tortured many people unable to get a firm touch. Her butt alone was spectacular, but her legs, thighs, abs, muscles, and, of course, her exceptional bust made the honeypot a legend among beauties.
"I have seen Yang's butt."
"She has a nice butt," Blake confirmed. "It's important to agree on major issues." She looks at her controller for a moment, then to the clock on her scroll. "And with that, I think it's about time I get some more reading done, plus maybe watch some stuff. I'll see if I feel like helping with your gloves tomorrow, but otherwise, we can bum downtown a bit or something."
"Sounds like a plan." The man suddenly remembered something. Unable to stop, he let out an excited, "Ohhh!" and pulls out his scroll. Checking email, he received a certain something from Weiss. He pulls it up on his laptop and reads it.
"It's a secret!" headlined the message Weiss sent. Attached was a folder labeled PS_121318, otherwise today's date, plus probably something like, "photoshoot." The message itself only said, "Call me tomorrow afternoon! When Blake isn't around ;)" The man smiles, enjoying how cute Weiss was using emojis. As a precaution, he pulls up a page about one of his games, play some music, and adjust his blanket in case Blake decides to come out unannounced.
The man clicks on the downloaded folder and is met with a password screen. Of course, Weiss wouldn't want any scandalous photos of her getting out, so security was a guarantee. As she told him this morning, he inputs, "JAVA," Weiss' favorite coffee shop downtown; in addition to having great drinks and service, it now unlocked the gate to Weiss lewds, so it was definitely a favorite of his as well.
Seeing as it was only right, the man clicks on the first image in Weiss' folder without peeking ahead. Unsurprisingly, it was Weiss in front of a washy blue background, posing with Myrtenaster. Actually surprising was that she wasn't wearing her usual outfit; rather than her emblematic white coat and combat skirt combo, she had a blue ensemble on. Her ponytail was centered, a clear sign that she was back under her family's thumb. Her off-center hair was a spiteful declaration of free will, but now she was just a Schnee again.
A bit bummed knowing that Weiss was likely unhappy, the man flicks to the next photo. It's more or less the same as the last, as are the next few. He imagines she sent him all the photos taken that day, whereas the magazine would narrow down the best ones, and Weiss likely saved the real best ones for last. Still, she was very pretty, and seeing modeling photos did do her a lot of justice; though unsure of her opinion, Weiss' blue dress and coat look very regal and complement her body well.
After maybe a dozen poses, each with a dozen slight variations, the man is surprised to be faced by Weiss cheerily waving. Instantly, he knew that this is the point where she sent the cameraman away, as she was smiling and casually sitting on a chair rather than looking stiff and firm. The next image was of Weiss trying and very much succeeding in looking cute, with her finger drawn coyly to her lip. Next, her finger strayed downward, landing at her coat-brooch thingy. Weiss' smile grows more devilish as her finger wanders over the sapphire collar joining her coat.
Several long photos of cruel anticipation later, Weiss set about removing her jacketcoatbroochthing, exposing her delicately toned arms and her seldom seen shoulders. With each image, she peeled back the blue fabric, pulling it apart and drawing it off her lithe frame. She took several photos of her seductively touching her bare collar; just seeing her bare collarbone and shoulders was driving you up the wall, torturing with the promise of more.
Whereas the professional poses had several shots of the same thing, Weiss could be seen switching positions between shots in the ones she took herself. She clearly hand-picked the best images that would cause the most internal struggle. This careful selection was best seen in the photo of Weiss holding her leg to her chest in her seat. There was fearful joy on her face as she positioned herself in just the right way as to keep her leg between the camera and her panties. Her snow white leg clearly was held at just the right angle, at just the right way to let her torture further. The care continued as Weiss removed her incredibly large platform heels.
With several intimate looks at the sky blue nail polish Weiss decorated her toenails with, she lowered her legs. The images again saw fit to spend several more photos dedicated to frustrating, but then Weiss reached behind her back.
Weiss paused, her photo showing a great amount of hesitation. After all, the two had only kissed up to this point; the man had seen Weiss wearing a swimsuit before, and she'd sent cute selfies more than a few times, but this was a lot more. Weiss was sending her boyfriend pictures of her stripping. Weiss loves him; she admitted so earlier today, even if it was clearly accidental. She loved him enough to take sexy photos knowing the risks of doing so as an heiress.
The next image had Weiss biting her lip and looking nervously away from the camera as she fidgeted around her back. The man can tell that this image was chosen specifically by Weiss to let him know that she was nervous; it was a beautiful photo both because Weiss herself was gorgeous and because she was in love. Every moment was her wrestling with the depths of her decisions.
The man readies himself to understand the depth of Weiss' love as her arms return to in front of her. She'd clutched the front of her dress, which was coming off now that it was untied. Her arm moved to cover her chest as she began slowly lowering her dress over the next few images. Each photo grew closer to Weiss revealing herself as much as she was capable of, and the struggle for her was as strenuous as it was for him, the person forced to enjoy slowly.
The man begins deliberately flicking through each photo as slowly as possible, putting as much respect into each image as care Weiss put into it. And with a final tap, she was revealed; it was clear that Weiss had shifted positions between this shot and the previous, as she was seated differently and her body was in a different position. He can tell that she had done the reveal, only to be dissatisfied enough to try it again to make it as perfect as possible. Weiss wasn't content enough to strip, she needed to make it perfect.
And perfect it was. A soft blue dripped down Weiss' stomach, her arm barely holding it any longer. She looked as if it would slide off of her exposed body were she not holding it. Her face was serene, caught between her fear and love that mixed into grace and stern beauty. The man gazes longingly at Weiss, finally allowed the privilege to see past her dress; her bra was obviously hand chosen, the stark white strapless garment managing to stand out even against her snowy skin. Intimate black lace wound itself gently over the edges, shaping her petite breasts and showing her form. As he continues, mesmerized by Weiss' porcelain chest, the finer details still emerge; the definition of her body's intricate shapes became increasingly clearer as her dress fell past her waist.
A beauty mark placed itself on Weiss' chest, caught right between her collar and right breast.
The subtle musculature of a huntress was outlined on Weiss' bare stomach.
The outlines of Weiss' ribs were brought out by her nervous refusal to breathe.
The quiet shame Weiss felt being seen undressed made itself quite clear as the woman wound her arms over her chest. Her feeble attempts to block the camera's unending stare quickly subsided as a delicate smile crossed Weiss' lips. Her look of loving acceptance leaves the man out of breath; it was enough that she was undressing, but her acknowledgment that this was her submitting all but her full self informed him that he lived a blessed life.
The next image had Weiss standing. Her dress was liquid, held up only by the heiress' fingers. With a second look of submissive acceptance, the woman spent several photos slipping out of her modesty. It took what felt like days to witness the act of Weiss standing in just her underwear. As her dress fell limply to the floor, the man takes in her panties; like her bra, they were stark white, outlined by black lace. The smallest black bow centered itself right above Weiss' womanhood, finalizing the gift his love has given him.
By no means was what Weiss was letting her boyfriend gaze at small. It wasn't skimpy, it wasn't slutty, it wasn't even that suggestive. Regardless, Weiss was beauty, and her sparkling eyes combined with her flawless body combined with her divine gaze was enough to send the man over the edge. She had allowed him to view her form, to see her body, to lust after her.
The man loves Weiss, and nothing save the world ending would stop him from telling her that tomorrow once he called her.
But that would have to wait until after a quick shower.