She never thought she'd agree. She hated makeup. The very thought of it repulsed her. She never wanted to touch any of that fake, time-wasting nonsense. "A waste of time and fake," Sevika would always call it. Yet, here you both were.

You were perched above her, an eyeliner pencil in hand, while Sevika lay beneath you, her eyes closed in reluctant surrender. The silence between you two stretched until Sevika broke it with a low, grumbling complaint. "You better not turn me into some fucking clown," she mutters, her voice carrying both annoyance and a touch of apprehension.

You remained focused, your steady hand working with precision, though you couldn't help but let out a soft sigh. Sevika had her doubts, of course — no surprise there. She couldn’t understand why she'd agreed to this in the first place.

You knew how to get what you wanted, and she was a sucker for that determination of yours. It was impossible for her to say no to you — hell, it was hard for anyone to. But with you, it was different. She always found herself giving in, even when she knew she probably shouldn't.