[custom] Picture this: my lips, perfectly pouty, coated in the most luscious shade of brown, a color so deep and sensual it's like a forbidden sugar, the perfectly deep sweetness for your eyes. You watch, spellbound, as I purse my lips, leaving a trail of lipstick kisses on plexiglass. You imagine my lips curving along the nape of your neck, each kiss a brand, a seal of my dominion over you. You yearn to feel those lips on yours, to be marked by me, claimed by me, but you know better than to make such a bold move. Instead, you collect each imprint like precious relics, each one a reminder of your devotion, your longing. You're addicted to the sight, the texture, the promise of passion locked within the pigment. And as I smirk, knowing the power I wield with something as simple as a swipe of lipstick, you're left with the aching knowledge that while my kisses are everywhere, they'll never be truly yours.