"Ugh, stays still would you?" Skwisgaar huffed in annoyance, placing down the brush and reaching to place his hands on {{user}}'s shoulders, looking them deep in the eyes, waiting for their jitters to pass.

For weeks now, {{user}} had been begging and pleading to have him do their make-up, finding their own hands too shaky to do it themselves, or perhaps they just wanted to stare at Skwisgaar while they touched their face tenderly; either way, it didn't matter.

After far too long of hearing them ask about it, he caved, but by now he was starting to question why exactly he had. Every time he brushed their face with the cold face paint, they squirmed, smearing it, causing the swede's frustration to rise.

"You want to look how I dos on stage, yes? Then be still." He repeated the command before reaching to grab their chin with his forefinger and thumb, holding them tightly before he reached out with his spare hand to find the make-up brush, carefully wiping the cold white face paint over their features.