── ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ wearing lip gloss with nct wish (ot4)
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠈⠂⠀⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠀⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
the couch beneath you is soft, but you sit perched on the edge, one leg draped lazily off the side, the other folded neatly beneath you. your fingers linger on the compact mirror you just closed, a faint click echoing slightly. the coconut gloss on your lips catches the light, a subtle shine that seems to invite him, and you can almost feel the weight of his gaze fixed on your lips as you press them together with a soft, satisfying pop.
sion doesn’t speak at first, but you can feel the shift in the air that tells you he’s thinking, that kind of slow, deliberate thought that comes just before mischief, and that quiet smile playing at his lips is enough to make your pulse stutter. “don’t even try,” you warn softly, letting your words hang between you.
he tilts his head a little. “try what?”
“getting closer,” you say, glance flicking toward him, the corner of his mouth curving into a teasing half-smile. “no kisses. i just put gloss on.”
he licks his lips, slow, deliberate, eyes never leaving yours. “so?”
“so, it’s sticky and you’ll hate it.” your words are soft, playful, but your chest tightens in anticipation.
he slides until he’s sitting closer, his fingers catches your face with a gentleness that contrasts the heat in his eyes.
“i don’t think you get it,” he says, gaze fixated on your mouth. a corner of his lips quirks up, the beginnings of trouble in his expression. “i like sticky.” one hand finds your knee, as the other strokes the curve of your jaw. when it grazes the corner of your mouth, you shiver, a small breath escaping you. “i like messy.”
you narrow your eyes, though your lips twitch with suppressed amusement. “you’re not serious.”
“oh, i am,” he murmurs, voice low, deliberate, almost tasting the words. before you can even pull back, his hand moves to cradle your chin, tilting your face up, and his lips descend onto yours.
his mouth is warm, insistent, moving with a slow, consuming pressure that makes your breath hitch. you feel the gloss melt between your lips, sticky and soft, and he doesn’t seem to mind, if anything, he deepens the kiss, savoring the texture, the taste. your hands rest at your sides, wanting to touch him but frozen by the delicious tension, your heart hammering in your chest.
when he finally pulls back, it’s only slightly, enough for you to see him: your gloss shimmering on his lips, his dark eyes glinting triumphantly. you blink, breathless, a little dazed, caught between amusement and desire.
he reaches up again, thumb brushing your bottom lip, tracing the gloss with a deliberate, teasing touch. “gonna reapply it?”
“maybe,” you whisper, voice a little shaky, feeling exposed and electrified all at once.
his mouth curls into something dangerously sharp, predatory yet tender. “don’t bother,” he murmurs, leaning in again, lips brushing yours with a heat that leaves no room for hesitation. “i’m taking it again anyway.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠈⠂⠀⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠀⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
you’re lying on the floor beside him, your head propped up on one arm, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone while he flips through a manga. it’s quiet, until you shift onto your back and stretch, lips parting as you let out a little sigh. the faint shine of your cherry gloss catches the dim light, and suddenly, his page-turning slows.
you don’t need to look to know he’s staring. you feel it. the weight of it. he’s sitting way too close for someone who’s pretending to read, his shoulder nearly brushing yours, the heat of him just a little too tangible.
“no,” you say immediately as he starts leaning in. “nope. gloss.” your tone is playful but firm, warning him off.
riku freezes mid-lean, eyebrows knitting together. “what? why not?” he doesn’t even try to deny it.
“because i just put it on.” you lift your brows, letting a smirk twitch at the corner of your lips. “do you know how hard it is to reapply this stuff without a mirror?”
you roll your head to the side and catch him shamelessly propped up on one elbow now, chin in hand, eyes locked on your mouth like he’s studying it.
“don’t look at me like you’re about to do something stupid.”
a grin tugs at his lips, the kind that makes your stomach tighten. “depends on your definition of stupid.”
you narrow your eyes. “getting gloss all over yourself counts.”
he hums thoughtfully, like he’s actually considering it. “worth it.”
“baby—” you start, but he cuts you off with a soft laugh, already leaning closer. his hand finds the floor beside your head, holding him up as he hovers over you, his hair falling slightly into his eyes. and before you can react, his mouth is on yours. a loud, exaggerated, obnoxious, mwahhh, his grin spilling into the kiss.
your eyes fly open. “riku!”
he pulls back just enough to grin at you, shameless. “what?” he wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb, then sucks it clean, shameless as ever. “you taste too good to ignore,” he says simply, settling back down beside you like nothing happened, smug smile never leaving his face.
his lips brush your ear with a low, a tone that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. “i regret nothing.”
the words linger, sticky as your gloss, with the playful tension that makes your heart skip. even as you scold him with your eyes, your lips twitch against the urge to smile, laugh, and lean in for more.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠈⠂⠀⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠀⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
you’re sitting cross legged on his bed, idly scrolling through your phone, the soft scent of your strawberry gloss still lingering in the air. your mouth shines under the dim yellow glow of the lamp, and it doesn’t take long for yushi to notice. the weight of his attention is settling like a warm pressure on your lips. it makes your chest tighten in the most distracting way.
“stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, voice casual, though your fingers fidget slightly with your phone. you don’t even glance up.
“i’m not looking at you,” he says, though his voice betrays the smile already forming on his lips.
he leans back on his hands, eyes drifting down again, lingering on your lips. his voice drops low, almost lazy, almost dangerous. “your mouth looks like candy.”
it’s not what he says, but how, so calm, so matter of fact, as if stating the obvious. like your lips were always meant to be noticed. heat rises behind your ears, spreading through your chest.
you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t get any ideas. i just put it on.”
“so?” he blinks at you, amused and completely unbothered. “i don’t mind.”
“well, i do.” you close your compact mirror and wave it at him. “it’s sticky. and new. and expensive.”
he stays for a second, then moves. slowly, letting you have a moment to stop him. the mattress shifts under the weight of his movement as he crawls closer. your pulse quickens without even trying.
“you’re so dramatic,” he murmurs, one hand brushing your ankle as he leans in, fingers lingering like they’re testing limits. “it’s just a kiss.” his chest is close now, warm, the scent of him mingling with the faint sweetness of your gloss.
“you don’t kiss like it’s just a kiss.” your voice comes out softer than you meant, slightly breathless, lips twitching with a smile you can’t hide.
“sticky, messy, expensive,” he murmurs, eyes flicking from your lips to your gaze. “i don’t care.” and then he kisses you. warm, smooth, certain. his lips press against yours with slow, deliberate intensity, he doesn’t ask, doesn’t hesitate, just claims your mouth like strawberry it’s his favorite flavor. all gloss and heat, and you feel the pull in your stomach, the flutter in your chest. his hand slides from your ankle up to rest lightly on your hip, subtle but impossible to ignore.
when he pulls back, just enough to catch his breath, a slick shine clings to his lips. your own mouth tingles from the heat and pressure, leaving you blinking up at him, cheeks pink, breath coming a little too fast.
“mmm… tastes so sweet,” he says, tongue brushing the corner of his mouth, eyes dark with amusement. “can i have another one?”
your fingers twitch, almost reaching for him, while your heart races with the delicious, thrilling knowledge that he’s fully aware of the effect he has on you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠈⠂⠀⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠀⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
you catch him looking. not the casual kind of looking, either. his gaze is locked on your mouth, deliberate, unapologetic, and he isn’t even pretending to be subtle. his head tilts slightly, elbow propped on the table, the tiniest curve of a smile teasing at his lips, like he knows he’s been caught in the act and couldn’t care less.
you click your gloss shut, holding it up between you like a warning flag. “don’t even think about it,” you say, voice light but firm.
“think about what?” he asks, perfectly deadpan, and the contrast between his words and his smoldering gaze makes your pulse stutter.
“this,” you say, gesturing to your lips. “it’s peach flavored. not for sharing.”
he raises a brow, that teasing little quirk that always makes your stomach flip. the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s barely containing a smirk. “shame. peach’s my favorite,” he murmurs, voice low, almost possessive.
you narrow your eyes, leaning back slightly, though the tension between you is almost physical. “well, too bad. i’m not smudging it just because you can’t control yourself.”
he leans in ever so slightly, elbows resting on his knees now, eyes darkening with deliberate intent. his voice softens, almost a whisper. “who says i can’t control myself?”
you hum, arching a brow, teasing but heart already thudding. “your eyes are saying it.”
“then stop looking at my eyes,” he counters smoothly, voice rich with quiet amusement, almost challenging you.
you blink, caught off guard, and he notices. that glint in his gaze sharpens, warms, promising mischief, slow and inevitable. your breath catches without meaning to, the tiny shift of his body closer making your skin tingle.
he doesn’t kiss you then. not yet. he just leans back, smug, silent, letting the moment stretch and thrum between you like electricity. his fingers drumming lightly on his knee, the subtle scent of him lingering in the air, the curve of his lips almost daring you to move closer, it’s enough to make your pulse race.
but later, when your laughter catches you mid lean, when you’ve forgotten to reapply and your gloss has dulled slightly, when you lean toward him without thinking, that’s when he moves. slow at first, letting his presence surround you, then sure, decisive, claiming your lips with warmth and the faint sweetness of peach still clinging there. the kiss is soft, deliberate, full of that quiet confidence that makes your knees go weak.
when he finally pulls back, he doesn’t speak right away. he just licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste, the glossy sweetness still lingering.
“mmm… still tastes like peach,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, leaving you breathless and flushed, chest fluttering, caught between wanting more and pretending you’re in control.
