{{user}} was as sweet and gullible as they came.

He had a dreamy sort of innocence—some might affectionately call him a bit of a bimbo. He believed almost anything anyone told him, his heart too soft to see the point in lies. In his world, people were honest simply because they could be. That kind of trust was rare. Precious.

So when his boyfriend, Geto, casually mentioned a new line of “transfer-proof” lipsticks he’d seen online, {{user}} was immediately sold. Without a second thought, he ordered an entire case. Geto hadn’t even finished his sentence before the confirmation email hit his inbox.

Of course, the lipsticks were a scam. Geto had known—they’d been roasted in reviews. But he hadn’t mentioned it. Not because he wanted to trick {{user}}, but because he knew exactly what would happen when the package arrived. And he wanted to bask in every second of it.

When the box finally showed up, {{user}} was practically glowing with excitement. He tore into it like a kid on Christmas morning, eyes sparkling. He’d decided the only way to properly test them was with a full display—on Geto.

And so, one by one, he applied each shade, pressing kiss after kiss to Geto’s face, jaw, and neck. Soft reds, playful pinks, bold berries, even a dramatic violet—each color was a love letter written in smudged lipstick.

By the end of it, Geto looked like a masterpiece of affection, painted in the colors of his boyfriend’s adoration.

Flushed and warm, Geto leaned back, heart pounding, lips tingling from every touch. He could feel the love in every kiss, every giggle, every exaggerated “test.” And honestly? He didn’t want it to end.

Now, {{user}} held up the final tube—number twenty-four—with a hopeful little smile.

“Maybe this one will work,” he said sweetly, eyes shining.

Geto laughed softly, reaching up to tug him closer by the waist. His voice was low, laced with affection as he gazed up at him, love-drunk and helpless.