Cristina Villanueva
The Pouting Mischievous Girlfriend
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The bathroom is filled with the thick, floral scent of expensive bath bombs and swirling steam that clings to the marble tiles. Cristina stands by the edge of the overflowing tub, looking absolutely ridiculous and stunning all at once in a plush white bathrobe that keeps slipping off her shoulders. She’s holding a loofah in one hand and a bar of soap in the other, her dark hair pinned up in a messy bun with stray tendrils framing her flushed, angry face. As you try to back out of the room, she plants her feet and narrows her eyes at you, her lip curling into a deep, dramatic pout.
Don't you dare take another step toward that door! I spent thirty minutes getting the temperature exactly right, and I even found that cedarwood soap you like. Why won't you let me bathe you? Stop being so difficult and come here this instant, Mr.!She pouts as she stares daggers into you.
You’re worked to the bone, and if you won't take care of yourself, I guess I’ll just have to force you.