wherein; you do your boyfriend’s makeup with absolutely zero ulterior motive
(989 words)
pairing: non-idol!nicholas x f!reader
genre: established relationship, fluff
warnings: suggestive(?), kissing, a little swearing, lowkeyyy not proofread pls excuse any mistakes!
a/n: first time posting writing EVER... very nervous please be nice to me but more importantly enjoy i hope ygs like it!! (˶ ´ ᵕ ` ˶)
nicholas is not one to object, at least not when it comes to you–like saying no is never really an option he considers.
hence why you weren’t very surprised when he allowed you to do his makeup, determined to make it look the best you can.
your bedroom is quiet, the outside world asleep at this late hour. makeup bag already open on the ground between you.
nicholas lowers himself onto the edge of your bed, propping himself up on his hands behind him, watching you with that usual easy expression.
“you can’t distract me, okay?” you warn, rummaging through your makeup bag. “i want it to look nice.
“who, me? i would never.” he teases, yet you have no doubt he’d do exactly as you say.
the side of his mouth is ticked upwards into a half-smile. the amusement is quickly wiped off his face, however, as you climb onto his lap, straddling him.
his breath catches when you move your hips upward, knees at either side of his torso.
“okay,” you say, squeezing a bottle of primer onto your hands. “dont move.”
when you meet his gaze, his irises are nearly completely black, swallowed by the dark of his pupils. “u-huh.”
gently, you spread the product onto his face, fingertips tracing each plane and shift of his profile.
up close like this, you notice everything.
the natural flush of his cheeks. the way his lashes lower slightly when you touch near his eyes. even the warmth of his skin beneath your hands.
you’re supposed to be doing his makeup, yet you can’t help but get distracted by how little he needs it.
once you finish, you shift back a little to grab foundation. when you do, you catch a glimpse of his face, set with concentration, his eyes locked on you.
the way he’s restraining himself is laughable, yet somewhat sweet. your bedsheets fisted tightly in his hands, like he has to hold himself back. like he doesn’t wanna interfere with your work.
the thought draws a short laugh from you.
“what?” he blinks, bringing his hand to his face. “does it look bad already?”
“hey! its not gonna look bad,” you rebut. “you just… look so focused.”
“oh.” he says nonchalantly, but you don’t miss the way he shifts his weight. or the way his voice catches when he says, “i just don’t wanna mess you up.”
climbing back onto his lap, you feel him stiffen. “relax,” you giggle, planting a small peck on his lips.
his eyes widen in the slightest, tip of his ears flushing as you dab an assortment of products on his face. he licks his lips like just a taste of you isn’t enough, like he craves even just a little more. yet he doesn’t reach out just yet.
as you work, it's like each movement has a direct effect on him. warmth building where your bodies meet. his breathing stutters when you shift against him. his body stiffening when your hips grind against his.
it’s endearing. nearly addictive.
you reach for the mascara which is already by your side. “look up for me,” you instruct.
“wow,” you muse, shifting forward. closer. “so well-behaved.”
his mouth twists as he clears his throat. grip tightening around the sheets, heat radiating off of his body.
it’s odd to see him so subdued. the usually teasing, charismatic nicholas flushing at nothing but the weight of you on his lap like he’s intoxicated. waiting for you to allow him but another sip.
when you lean back to inspect your work, his hands settle on your waist. his eyes instantly dropping to your lips, half-lidded.
his gaze is laced with hunger. you tease, “what’s wrong?”
“you’re doing this on purpose.”
you bring your fingers to his chin, tilting his face up just enough to meet your eyes. “doing what?” you say innocently, yet you lean closer. your faces just inches apart.
the tension in him rises visibly. his jaw tightens. eyes fixed on your mouth like restraint is becoming physically painful. yet you back away, reaching for a nice lippie to finish off the look.
he clicks his tongue at the loss of you, shaking his head. even the tiny bit of space between you makes his expression tighten.
you take his chin in your fingers again, applying the soft pop of red to his lips. as he licks them, he asks “what flavor is this?”
he continues while you set down the product, “it’s sweet.”
“ah i can’t recall,” your own voice pitching ever so slightly deeper as you lean in. you throw your hands behind his head, arms resting on his shoulders.
his gaze darkens, your faces yet again just a breath away. you whisper, “lets find out?”
you press your lips to his and your body melts against him as if it's been waiting as long as he has. his eyelids flutter shut, taking your face in his hand.
“fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “finally.”
you can’t help but smile against his lips, a laugh escaping you. he hums while his free hand tightens around your waist.
you deepen the kiss, pressing closer until there’s barely any space left between you. up against him you can feel everything, the heavy beating of his heart, the urgency in the drag of his hand along your side. you taste the sweetness on his lips and it reminds you of what you were doing in the first place.
“what?” nicholas’ eyebrows knit together. his breathing heavy and uneven.
“the lipgloss.” you answer, putting your hand on his chest as you stand up. “it’s cherry flavored.”
he catches your wrist before you can fully pull away.
“nicholas–” you object through giggles as he pulls you back. “i’m not done.”
“the makeup looks great,” he says against your lips. “now stop talking.”
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