#drag wig styling

[deanbanowetz]

This class like drag itself is for everyone who has a passion for drama, excitement and expression. Can’t wait to see you there on May 31st & June 1st! ✨

[petrovna-zamo]

Obsessed with Bob & Katya together

[sapsuckers-and-stardust]

Love that everything in Star Trek TOS looks a little shit, except for the wigs, for which there was apparently an unlimited budget and all the time in the world. In the early episodes Nurse Chapel was rocking three or four different elaborately styled looks when she simply not on screen enough to justify that. Even the girls of the week would usually have their hair augmented with crazy hairpieces of some variety. Not to mention our series regulars-- Shatner famously stole many (very expensive) custom hairpieces from the set and I believe Nichelle Nichols also stole some wigs and pretended they went missing. This show had amazing wigs.

[d3l3t3d-deactivated]

my dad witnessing me have my pre-gig spiral for the first time and he’s like “wow, you are REALLY hard on yourself :/“

[official-lauchzwiebel]

.

[demonspeeding666]

🤠✨

[stinkyspencer]

my most recent drag lewk :3 pls give me any tips and tricks for laying wigs because this shit is HARD 😭

[llulabeee]

Cosplaying lady gyokuyou might be fun, but I have no idea how I’d do the wig. She’s got such a complicated hair style with the volume and the hair pins that idk where I’d even start. At least my eyes are green already

[peanutbutterandbananasandwichs]

If I ever win the lottery I won't tell anyone but there will be signs (I'll purchase every single drag wig I've ever lusted over).

[lesfruitsdores]

I don't hate any drag race queen personally because it's not that serious but Q is so obnoxious to me. He isn't a bad drag queen at all, but his stuff is so boring and he has somehow giggled and slurred his way through the season while being unappealing to every viewer from what I've seen. Again, none of this is personal, he just doesn't make for good TV at all

[tiktok-crocs]

@themotherbirdie

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!childhood friend x reader

“Hey, can I talk to you?” a classmate in one of your university classes calls out. He’s blushing, looking completely flustered. You’d have found it cute, really, but there are several factors that make you want to groan.

One, you’re not in a good mood right now. And two–

“You’re friends with that pretty girl, right? Jieun? Uhm. Can I get her number?”

He’s not confessing to you. 

You bite back a sigh. “Look, I can’t just give out my friend’s number like that–”

“But–”

“Darling!” you’re interrupted as someone clings onto your arm. They intertwine their fingers with yours, giving your classmate an icy smile. “I’m so sorry, but we have plans.”

“Oh, t–that’s fine!” your classmate exclaims, voice cracking. He looks at your friend, completely enamored. “But, uh, can I get your–”

Before your classmate can finish his sentence, your friend has already dragged you away. 

Soon, you’re seated in a cute coffee shop your friend had found earlier that week.

“I can’t believe that guy was confessing to you,” your friend scoffs, taking a sip of their matcha latte. “You’re so out of his league.”

“He was actually asking me for your number,” you respond, making your friend’s eyes widen.

“Me?” There’s genuine surprise on your friend’s face as they clasp their manicured hands. “Well, I suppose my makeup skills are pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s always surprising that you can go from Jiu to Jieun and back so easily.” 

And you mean it – your childhood friend, Jiu Oh, has built up his life as his father’s perfect son. Yet, at the same time, he has a secondary identity – Jieun – that he uses whenever he wants to indulge in cute things and fashion, things his father thinks no man should ever have an interest in.

“It’s pretty fun,” Jiu hums, twirling a long strand of his pink wig on his finger. His pretty lips stretch into a smile. “You should let me doll you up sometime, too. Only if you want to, though. You’re already beautiful as you are.”

You give him a bitter smile, a sigh leaving your lips. “If only my ex-boyfriend thought that, too…”

Jiu gasps. “You guys broke up?”

“Yeah.” With a few taps of your phone, you pull up the chat between you and another friend. There, right on the screen, is your ex-boyfriend on a date with a blonde woman.

“I can’t believe it. He cheated on you?” Jiu looks at you, his perfectly styled eyebrows furrowed. “I knew he was trash.”

“Yeah, you were right. I guess I just…” your voice drops to a whisper, making Jiu gently hold your hand.

“Aw, darling – it’s not your fault. It’s that trash’s fault for cheating on you.” Gently, he gives your hand a soft squeeze. “How about we hang out tonight? To take your mind off of things? We can watch your favorite movies and bake something? And I’ll do your nails!”

“...You know what, yeah. That sounds good,” you agree, feeling lighter. Time spent with Jiu is always fun, after all.

“Wonderful! I’ll prepare everything and text you when I’m ready!” Jiu grins. “Ooh, you’ll love the new bath bomb I got!”

His enthusiasm is infectious and you can’t help but smile. Yeah, who cares about your shitty ex when you have a great friend like Jiu?

What you don’t know, though, is that the blonde woman in the photo is Jiu. He had carefully orchestrated everything so that you’d break up with your boyfriend.

You also don’t know that he has tabs on you at all times – whether it’s by your phone or the people around you. You don’t know that the whole reason you got into your university in the first place is because of Jiu.

Jiu’s control over your life extends even beyond that, too. It’s impossible to know the full extent of the control he has over your life and maybe you never will – not when you’re his, anyway.

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

Anyways I'm in love with drag kings. drag kings my absolute beloved

im finally actually watching dragula and holy shit i was expecting like. goth rupaul but they really put these people in heels and massive wigs in the forest at night and had people in gilly suits chase them with tasers

[jazeswhbhaven]

hi!! can I request whb!kings ( and some nobles if you want ) reactions to a mc who says they love long-haired men?

Hi there!! I am feeling this request heavy because I too find long-haired men aesthetically pleasing to look at irl and fiction. Let's see what our kings think :P

Satan: He has long hair. It's fluffy, unruly at times and smells like cat fur, but it's still long. So when he hears MC going on and on about men with long hair, he's grabbing their hands and forcing them to pet his hair and play with it. I mean he's standing right there, might as well fulfill your desires MC....

Mammon: He hears that MC loves long-haired men and it brings him back to the time he had long hair, long and luxurious that he inherited from his father. Using his little Ai bots and a bit of magic, he creates a machine that can change your hairstyle in less than 5 minutes. And with that, his hair grows out past his shoulders, and MC is in awe. Leave it to Mammon to do anything for MC's attention.

Beelzebub: His hair is kinda long, but it's styled because he prefers it that way. But he starts to get testy about MC being around Bael because when he takes it down from being tied up, it's pretty damn long, he just never has time to cut it. Because of that, he may have cut Bael's hair while he was sleeping....that way MC won't have any distractions and can be reminded of Beel when he's away. It's a good thing the other nobles have short hair....

Leviathan: What's so good about long hair? It gets in the way, makes you look like a wild animal, and isn't very flattering at all. He's already upset with MC even mentioning others who have long hair and a particular devil comes to mind. Next thing you know, MC is noticing that Levi is letting his hair grow out. The other devils in Hades are now required to keep their hair at a certain length which is no longer than the bottom of their ear lobes.

Lucifer: His hair is kept at neck length because he prefers it that way, but can understand why MC likes long-hair. In fact, he mentions that Gamigin has long hair and that MC should go and braid it sometimes. Though, MC's point was to get Lucifer to try and grow out his hair longer, maybe past his shoulders. That won't ever happen, his hair would get caught in his open wound that still on his back and he can't have that.

Belphegor: He likes his hair medium length because it's less maintenance. He doesn't think he could ever deal with long hair because it would never be washed and get all messed up and greasy beyond repair. However, he's willing to put on a wig for MC because he can take that off easily, or just get Beleth to do it. But don't expect that wig to be in good condition after a couple days of him sleeping in it.

Asmodeus: His hair is so long it drags across the floor. So when MC mentions loving long-haired men he's front and center smothering them with his hair. He even asks MC if they would like it if he grew out his hair in other places too. Also he read their mind when they once thought about doing inappropriate things with his hair. He wants to try that out. Right now in fact.

NOBLES TIME~

Sitri: His hair is short now, so when he hears about MC having a thing for long-haired men, he's considering growing it out again. After a couple weeks his hair reaches his shoulders and it's fluffy and pretty. Everyone in the palace kept forgetting it was Sitri, and MC was running into things because they kept staring. He felt it was too much of a distraction so he cuts it. But it was fun while it lasted.

Zagan: This noble has such pretty silky hair, MC can't help but compliment him each time. Zagan doesn't have much to say, but here lately he's been using a different conditioner and shampoo and now his hair is even longer and shiny. He secretly hopes this gets MC to talk to him more.

Paimon: He always has his hair tied up in pigtails so when he reveals how long his hair is to MC, he's happy to hear that MC is impressed and wants to play with it often. Paimon even encourages MC to get extensions to match, because he also likes long-hair on potential suitors. Now they can matcchhhhhh <3

Bael: He's pretty pissed off that Beel cut his hair in the middle of the night, but at least now he looks even more similar to his annoying best friend. He always liked having his long hair tied back and even planned on growing it out more because he found out MC likes long-haired men. Now it's his chance again, at least his hair grows fast.

SURPRISE ITS RIN!!!~

When Jjok turns into his other form, his hair is long, pretty, and super red like his fur. It was merely a coincidence that MC happens to like men with long-hair so he brags about it whenever he gets the chance too. Imagine him, a simple red lump demon that can turn into a hottie with long-hair? He smiling and even bothering Lucifer about it too.

[gremlingottoosilly]

König with cosplayer!reader and dragging your giant boyfriend to conventions. Him getting complimented on his cosplay and he’s just confused because he’s going as himself??

Forcing Konig to help you get into that tight-ass dress with multiple corsets and zips - konig swears that an actual combat uniform is way easier to get into. Almost breaks the zipper and apologizes every time he makes everything a bit too tight...but god, you look fucking adorable. As much as he hates having his girl be seen by literally everyone, he adores when you cosplay his favorite characters - or when you are forcing him to watch your favorite shows/play your favorite games so he can love the characters you cosplay. Konig doesn't really understand how to style wigs, why you need so much makeup, and how you are not dying in these costumes - but he is more than willing to give you as much money as you want so you can get everything custom-made specifically for you. He would be shocked at the prices...but then again, why does he work at such a high paying and dangerous job if not to make his precious girlfriend look good in her silly little costumes?? He is only nervous about actually coming to conventions. You convince him that just wearing the uniform would make him a cool airsoft masked guy, and you'd look nice in contrast - but still, he feels too old and too nervous for something as stressful as a con. He is willing to but you everything you want from a artist alley and then hold your stuff - and protect you from creeps, obviously. Konig doesn't understand why people want to take pictures with him tho...it just feels like everyone here is a spy from another merc organization and he has to protect you - he feels silly, of course, but he kinda likes playing into the role of your soldier protector. And if he can get you to wear costumes in the bedroom...just imagine wearing those silly cosplay lingerie sets while he is in his full uniform, roleplaying as, maybe, en evil general that just captured pretty little thing like you...yeah, Konig appreciates his cosplaying girlfriend. Maybe a bit too much.

[dukestags]

Hi, ok so I've been having this idea for so long and I think you might like to write it. It's a Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) x Male reader, where reader's a singer/popstar(? And one day, as a joke, he sends Bruce Wayne an invitation to participate in a videoclip, similar to "One of your girls" by Troye Sivan where he does a lap dance to Ross Lynch. Bruce accepts (bc why not) and well, in this case it's reader the one that ends up doing a lap dance to a shirtless Bruce Wayne in front of a camera. Needless to say, Bruce enjoys every second of it.

Surprisingly, they have a lot of chemistry, so they flirt, like, a lot. And maybe it all ends with a dinner and.... Other things ;)

Also, it's not necessary that reader is in drag like in the video I referenced if you don't like the idea.

Drunk text

Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) x Male reader

warnings: smut... drag idk... im getting a bit lazy..

summary: maybe a little joke wasn't so bad after all.

(I LOVE THE IDEA)

It was all a just a drunk joke. You drank with some friends after eight before the day of the shooting and you joked about having Bruce Wayne onset of the music video and being the guy you are… you drunk texted him with a god damn email..

‘Heyyyyyyy Mr. Wayne. I’m filming tomorrow and I need a guy for a scene for my music video for the lap dance scene. Wanna be the lucky guy? 😉’

You didn’t expect him to actually show up.. but he did. So you gave him an actual show. A proper dance.

The bass dropped—low, dirty, and pulsing like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

You strutted into the spotlight, heels clicking against the wood with every step. The bodysuit clung to you like a second skin, glittering under the dim red light. Your wig was styled to perfection, a dramatic black cascade that framed your smirking lips. A thin silver chain draped across your hips, drawing every eye exactly where you wanted them.

But your focus?

All on him.

Bruce Wayne. Shirtless. Spread casually in that vintage velvet chair, elbows on the armrests, ankles crossed, like this was just another boring gala. But you could see it—the flicker of tension in his jaw, the slight shift of his fingers against the upholstery. He was trying to play it cool.

He had no idea what he was in for.

You circled the chair like a lion, hips swaying, lips mouthing along with the track. Bruce’s eyes followed every movement, head tilted slightly as you stepped behind him, dragging your fingers slowly along his shoulders. You leaned in close—your lips just brushing the shell of his ear.

“Don’t blink,” you purred.

Then the real show started.

You swung around and straddled his lap in one smooth, practiced move. The music pounded through your body as you rolled your hips against his, moving with teasing precision. Your hands slid up his chest, nails grazing over his collarbones, down his stomach. Every part of you was in sync with the beat, with him.

Bruce’s hands gripped the chair tightly—but he didn’t touch you. Not yet.

Your thighs clenched around him, dragging your body up with a slow grind, only to drop back down again, flush against his lap. His breath hitched, barely audible—but you heard it. You smirked, locking eyes with him, your faces just inches apart.

He looked up at you like a man starved.

“Enjoying yourself, Mr. Wayne?” you asked, voice dripping with mock innocence.

He raised an eyebrow, voice gravelly. “You’re very… committed to the role.”

You leaned in, so close your noses brushed. “So are you.”

The track hit its climax—your body moving with wild, fluid energy now, head thrown back as you danced, lips parted, letting the music flow through you. Every twist, every grind, every movement of your hips against his was deliberate.

And Bruce?

He was rock still. A pillar of control beneath you. But you could see it—his flushed chest, the slight tension in his arms, the heat in his eyes. That thin veneer of Wayne control was cracking.

The final beat hit, and you dropped low—your chest pressed against his, one hand braced on his thigh, your mouth right next to his ear.

“Cut!” the director yelled.

But no one moved.

Your hand stayed on Bruce’s chest. His gaze pinned you in place.

And then—finally—his hand slid to your hip, thumb grazing bare skin beneath the fringe.

“Did I pass the audition?” he murmured.

You grinned, lips brushing his jaw. “Baby, you just bought yourself a starring role.”

…

The video shoot wrapped with applause and sweat, your lashes drooping slightly after hours of lights, music, and teasing Bruce Wayne on camera. Drag came off like armor — the lashes peeled away, heels kicked off, wig hung up. Still, you looked damn good even without it. You caught Bruce leaning in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched you remove the last of your costume.

“You clean up well,” he said, voice low but tinged with that unmistakable appreciation. You raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that after I danced on your lap in six-inch heels?”

A chuckle. “Let’s just say... I was impressed in every stage of the transformation.”

You turned, cocking your head. “You didn’t come here just to flirt, did you?”

“No,” Bruce said, stepping closer now, “I came to ask if you’d like to have dinner with me. Tonight.”

You blinked. “Wait—you’re asking me out? Like… a date-date?”

He smirked. “Unless you’d rather I ask again tomorrow, in a tux.”

Your laugh was breathless. “Okay, Bruce Wayne. You’ve got yourself a date.”

Classy, private, high above Gotham in a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the entire city. He’d reserved the whole place—because of course he did. Bruce surprised you again. He wasn’t brooding or stiff. He was sharp, warm in a guarded kind of way, and totally unbothered by your fame, your attitude, your habit of sipping wine a little too fast. When dessert came, his hand brushed yours across the table—brief, deliberate. You didn’t pull away. “I’m not usually this bold,” he said, voice roughened slightly by the hour.

You leaned in. “I think you like being watched.” He smirked. “Only by you.” His penthouse was all dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows, soft jazz humming somewhere in the background.

He poured two fingers of whiskey, handed you one, and sat beside you on the long leather couch. Silence wrapped around you both for a moment — intimate, heavy with promise.

You set your glass down, heart thumping. “So… about earlier.” Bruce didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, slow and sure, and kissed you — firm, steady, confident. Like he’d wanted to since you first touched him on camera.

You melted into it, fingers tangling in his shirt, tugging him closer as the world narrowed to his mouth on yours, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you backward onto the couch. You gasped when his lips moved to your throat.

The first kiss was slow—surprisingly gentle for a man like Bruce Wayne. But there was power in it. Controlled strength. Like a predator testing the waters before the pounce.

You melted into it, letting your body answer for you. Your hands slid up his chest, finding bare skin beneath the crisp dress shirt he’d already begun to shrug off. His fingers worked with firm precision, undoing buttons and belt buckles with military smoothness. When your shirt came off, his eyes lingered—taking you in, not just with lust but with appreciation.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed along your collarbone, one hand trailing down your side to your waistband. “You don’t even need the glam.”

You grinned breathlessly. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Wayne.”

“Shut up and let me have you.”

He hoisted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, groaning as he carried you across the room with ease. Your back hit the mattress of his king-sized bed, cool sheets contrasting the warmth of your flushed skin. He hovered above you, shirtless and toned, the shadows catching every muscle like carved marble.

Then his lips were on yours again—deeper, hungrier.

His hands roamed your body, claiming every inch, fingers brushing over your thighs, hips, stomach. He kissed lower, licking a slow trail down your chest before gripping your hips and dragging you closer. When he finally stripped the last of your clothing off, his gaze lingered for a beat—dark, burning.

“Look at you,” he whispered, brushing a hand down your inner thigh. “Spread out for me already…”

You moaned as his fingers slipped between your legs, teasing you with slow, maddening pressure. He took his time—prepping you, coaxing every sound from your lips with deliberate control. You squirmed, desperate, but he just smirked.

“Patience,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to feel every inch of me.”

When he finally pressed inside, you gasped—arching into him, the stretch intense, perfect. Bruce didn’t rush. He filled you slowly, inch by inch, letting you adjust as his mouth ghosted over your jaw.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you panted.

That was all he needed.

He began to move—long, deep thrusts that had you clawing at his back, moaning his name into the sheets. His pace was relentless but purposeful, every motion precise. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pinning it high against his side, while the other braced near your head, keeping you caged beneath him.

“You feel so good,” he growled, hips grinding into you. “So damn tight around me…”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss between gasps. “Harder, Bruce—fuck—don’t hold back.”

That flipped a switch.

He slammed into you harder, faster, lips bruising yours as his thrusts shook the bed. The sound of skin on skin echoed between moans and labored breaths. You were a mess beneath him—sweat-slicked, trembling, completely undone.

And he loved it.

“Look at you,” Bruce whispered as you whined under him, your body jerking with every thrust. “Taking it so well… taking me so well.”

His hand slipped between you to stroke you in rhythm, and it was over too quickly. Your back arched, a cry leaving your throat as pleasure ripped through you—white-hot and consuming. Bruce followed seconds later, buried deep inside you with a low, guttural groan.

He collapsed onto his forearms above you, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to yours.

“God…” you whispered, still trembling.

“I could watch you come apart like that every night,” he murmured.

You laughed, dazed. “That a promise, billionaire boy?”

His smirk returned. “Only if you keep wearing those heels next time’’