Masculine Makeup Novels & Stories

"Quick, look, that's my Lucas. Handsome, isn't he?" Emily sincerely nodded. "Very handsome." Olivia nodded in satisfaction. "He's even more handsome without makeup. When he's done up, he looks a bit strange. Nothing beats his natural look." Emily observed Lucas for a while, calmly commenting, "Actually, Lucas has very defined facial features. When applying makeup, the shading on his face doesn't need to be so heavy, and why use this shade of foundation? It's more suited for women, not men. Is the makeup artist trying to turn him into a K-pop idol? Lucas's face leans more towards angularity, not the soft Korean makeup style. A rugged, masculine look would suit him better."

Things we couldn’t possibly prepare for. Adonis smiled at me, his thick red lipstick a little smeared at the corner. He was wearing an enormous blonde wig, and his eye make-up was dramatic, complete with thick false lashes. Glitter adorned his cheeks, and his tight red satin dress and cape went all the way down to his heels. I barely recognized him under all the make up and glitter. “We got this,” he said to me.

That's why I used it, because I would definitely be doing a lot of dancing and sweating so I didn't want something that would go down with my sweat. Now, mascara. I used manasi 7 precision mascara because it gives me an awesome flutter. I used one coat of black mascara to make my eyes pop. As before, I proceeded to build slowly and in layers, from the roots to the ends. I used a second coat for some of that sexy nighttime party vibes. I looked great already. I took a wipe and wiped off the previous lipstick mix I'd taken time to perfect. Then I brought out my tinted love ilia satin cream lip crayon because it gives the perfect sleek mauve.

Their eyes were filled with the terror of men trapped between death in front and death behind. A wine-red bodycon dress, the hem cut short to the upper thigh, over-the-knee boots with thin heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the marble. Her makeup was the kind of piled-on expense—eyebrows drawn without a single stray hair, lashes unnaturally dense, lips painted a dried rose color. But it was a mask. A cold, rigid, polished shell. Every brushstroke of foundation declared whose seed she came from, and also declared what that face was being used to cover up.

“And stay…very still.” I smile at Frankie as he does as he’s told and I open my liquid mascara, very carefully drawing a long line of it down by the edge of his lashes. As I do, I consider again how good looking he is. His face, in the end, doesn’t really lend itself to the kind of feminine lines I’ve painted on him with my makeup kit. But with that strong jaw, and his full lips, and the unfair length of his eyelashes? Damn, but Frankie really is pretty. Boy pretty.

Makeup is not a mask. Makeup is art. Makeup is Passion. Makeup is an expression. I found the quote to be true when my eyes fell on the mirror, and I gawked at the girl staring back. Her hair was swept up in a messy ballerina bun with curls falling around her round face, and her makeup was immaculately perfect. Smokey eyeshadow under freshly waxed eyebrows, made the baby blue in her eyes pop like a blue lagoon in a dark cave, and light pink lipstick adorned her lips in complement to the blush on her cheeks.

We salute Liam Ocampo in this building. Austin. Unlike Bob’ and Liam’s, his jeans don't have any rips. Underneath his ‘shades of grey’ flannels is a high/low crop shirt with My Chemical Romance’s logo printed over it. His makeup is Gerard Way’s mask makeup, but instead of black, it’s red. He also has a blood-red lipstick and black in a few corners--Liam probably forced Austin to makeover him because Austin is never this good at makeup, nor fashion sense maybe. Lastly, they look at me. Fuck I should’ve shown them the picture I took before going because now I look like a mess and I stink like hell. If anything, HOW DO THEY MANAGE TO HAVE THEIR MAKE-UP NOT RUINED!?

I didn't bother with any makeup other than a swipe of deep red lipstick. When she's going to die, what does a female need with mascara? Felix gracefully gets up from the couch. He sets his whisky down on the glass coffee table while maintaining eye contact with me. Ropey muscles bulge and contract beneath his white shirt as he stalks towards me. Because he is so attractive, most girls would take one glance at him and then spend the next month masturbating in public. She had honey-gold skin, dark eyes with hoods, a sly grin, and thick chestnut hair that you could tell was as soft as it appeared to be. The high-end attire and flawless fashion sense also help. Even his aroma, which is deep sand

I turn around to meet his chest, and naughtily grabs his balls, "They're soft too." He groans when I cup them, "Don't do it. I still want kids." I ignore his warning and let them roll on my palm, just playing with them like they're two big marbles, "Gay dads are so hot." "Yeah?" "The whole thing about being masculine and sexy but you can't get your hands on them, or the fact they'll never be interested in you, makes them soooo much hotter." Then I realise he's semi-hard, again. But this time I'm not wearing make up, or have my hair curled, not even putting on the corset or fuck-me heels so what gives?

I giggled. “If you can make a man like THAT crazy about you, you have nothing to worry about winning over the audience!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s finish your make up. You are gonna rock it tonight!!” These guys were exceptional. My makeup was flawless—my skin seemed to glow under its own spotlight. The smoky gold and bronze eyeshadow made my eyes pop, and the sharp eyeliner added just the right amount of drama. And the dress. Oh, the dress!