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[hairloveindiajaipur]

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[nerdie-faerie]

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[brainstormingg]

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[talesofesther]

first in my heart

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.

A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.

Word count: 4,7k

Masterlist

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.

To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.

And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.

Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.

He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.

Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.

It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.

The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.

You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.

With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.

"What are you up to, my sweet?"

The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.

The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.

You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."

You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.

Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"

The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."

Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."

He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.

You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.

Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.

He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.

And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"

A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.

You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.

The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.

When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.

You didn't.

You said you cared for him. You hugged him.

There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.

Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.

He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.

Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.

Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.

There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.

With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.

It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.

But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.

The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.

Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.

Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.

"Astarion?"

With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.

"Is everything okay?"

Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.

Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"

The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.

You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."

But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?

Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.

He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.

Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.

He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.

Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.

Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.

And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.

He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.

You could only hope he would adore it just as much.

It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.

Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.

You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.

Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.

You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.

With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.

You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.

"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.

He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.

You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.

"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.

You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."

His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.

"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.

A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.

You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.

For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.

You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.

"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.

Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.

"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"

You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."

A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.

You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.

Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.

The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.

A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.

He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.

People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.

Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.

Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.

You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.

Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.

"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.

"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."

Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.

There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.

Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.

You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.

When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."

You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[futureman]

don't wanna leave this play date

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: you and mike find a way to make a boring shift at freddy's a little more interesting

warnings: 18+ MDNI, coworker!reader, smut, pwp, overstimulation, edging, blowjob, extremely rough oral, throatpie, fwb

word count: 1.9k

(based on these two requests, tysm for sending them in!)

"Thank you. God, thank you so fucking much."

You can't respond to him with your mouth as full as it is, but he picks up the acknowledgment in your next extra-hard suck. He probably wouldn't have heard you anyway, not with how loud he's gotten over the last half hour.

Should you both be working right now? Yes. Could something go terribly wrong because you're too busy blowing your coworker to watch the security monitors? Oh, absolutely.

But when his curly mop of hair appeared at the edge of the doorway midway through your shift, you knew you'd end up doing whatever he asked you to. It might just be your fatal flaw—you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

He buries his fingers in your hair, tensing but not tugging, as you steadily work him the way you know he likes. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so eager to get his cock in your mouth every night, but you figure there's not much else to do during a midnight to 6 a.m. security gig at a closed-down pizzeria no one gives a shit about anymore.

Plus, you like doing it. You like him. It's cute how unashamed and unapologetic he is about how badly he wants you, and he makes you feel so good, you've never even thought about turning him down.

Even on nights when he just needs a quick release to ease the boredom or relax him enough to squeeze in a nap, just the taste and weight of him on your tongue has you soaking right through your panties. And he always makes it up to you.

But you're bored tonight, too. With three hours left to go, you'd been sitting in your shitty folding chair wondering how the hell you were going to stay awake and pass the time when Mike offered you an enticing solution. Except, you're still feeling antsy, and you don't want this to be over as fast as it usually is. Tonight, you want to play a little longer.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop and jerk him off languidly, loosening your grip to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm.

"That feel good?" you ask breathily, inhaling a lungful of air after letting him rut into the inside of your cheek for the past ten minutes. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he nods.

"S'good, feels so good," he slurs, his head tipped back as he bucks off the chair and into your fist.

"You want more?" You start to twist your wrist whenever you get close to the tip, and you can see and feel the shudder that wracks through him.

"Yes, god, yes. Please," he pleads, just short of begging.

"More what?" you goad experimentally. It wasn't your intention to make him beg when he walked into your office asking for help, but now you don't want him to stop.

"Y-your mouth," his head lolls forward, and he bites his lip hard at the sight of you licking away the precum streaming from his tip.

"Deeper, can I—," he tries to ask, but you shift to tease the underside of his head, and he chokes out a groan. "Wanna fuck your throat so bad."

"Are you gonna cum if I let you?"

"Fuck, probably," he admits reluctantly.

"Then, pick something else," you give him a teasing smile, a little charmed by his honesty.

Continuing to stroke him, you duck down to press a wet kiss to the base of his cock, then surprise him by sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

"Jesus, fuck," he gasps, leaking more precum that dribbles onto your cheek as you alternate between harder suction and softer swipes of your tongue.

He tastes salty and heady, and you were right. You're wet as fuck and so tempted to shove your other hand down your pants to toy with your clit, but you know he'll do that later. And you're not even close to being done with him yet.

Your grip tightens as you pick up your pace and focus closer to the head, maintaining eye contact that seems like it's setting him off just as much as your mouth or hand. His whole body vibrates with those telltale whimpers, and he finally starts to tug at your hair.

"M'gonna cum. Shit, keep going, I'm gonna cum," he grits out, his chest heaving.

His eyebrows pinch and his lips part, and he looks like he's seconds away from blowing his load all over your face—but then you release him again. You slide your hand under his shirt to stroke his heated skin comfortingly as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting like he just ran a marathon.

"Shit...shit," he keens, and you can feel his abs tensing and relaxing under your palm. His cock jerks pathetically next to your face, and you grip the base to make sure he doesn't accidentally topple over the edge.

"Shit," he whines again frustratedly, half-heartedly trying to pry your fingers off him. "Why?"

You rest your head against his thigh and smile, watching him pout down at you. He really is so cute when he gets fussy like this.

"You really wanna cum that fast? What happened to wanting to fuck my throat?" you tease him, beginning to jerk him off again. He sighs in relief, and his hips jut forward to meet your hand on every downstroke.

"You already said no," he replies dejectedly.

"I said not yet," you correct. "If you give me one more, I'll let you do whatever you want."

He eyes you curiously like he thinks you're baiting him, and you guess in a way you are. By now, he knows you've been edging him on purpose, but he has nothing to lose and everything to gain if he accepts your deal. He knows you'll make him feel good no matter what.

"You can choke me," you continue, slurping messily around the tip. "You can be as rough as you want," you trail your lips down his spit-slick length to the base and lick a wide stripe back up, "and you can cum in my mouth, and I promise I'll swallow all of it."

He's nodding frantically before you can even finish, and his eagerness reminds you of a golden retriever.

"You're gonna be good?" you confirm.

"I'll be good, I'll be so good," he blurts out, his urgency slurring his words again.

"I know you will. Just one more time, I know you can handle it," you encourage him.

Then, you swallow him down without warning. He lets out something guttural and animalistic, both hands tensing to hold you in place, and you let him.

You never planned on making this easy, but you meant what you said. He can handle this. He can handle the tightness of your throat constricting around him, contracting intermittently to mimic how your pussy feels fluttering around him.

Or, at least, you hope he can. You feel his balls draw up dangerously under your chin, and when you peer up through your watery lashes, his eyes are starting to cross. That's not good.

Slowly but steadily, he nudges the back of your throat harder and harder until tears and drool are streaming down your cheeks and chin. He's mumbling incoherent strings of praise and curse words between drawn-out whines, but you can barely hear him over the wet sounds of your own gagging.

"Fuck, that's...good, that's so fucking good," he pants raggedly, picking up his brutal pace. It's like he's lost all control of his body, and all he can do is chase the high you've been denying him all night.

You gurgle around him, grasping his thighs to ground yourself against the force of his thrusts, and briefly contemplate trying to stop him. But it's too late and he's already too close. His face screws up, and then you know it's coming.

"I'm sorry—I'm...fuck, I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't—," he whimpers, fucking into his fist, "—m'gonna cum, I'm so close."

Moaning around him in response, you dig your nails into his skin, hoping the unexpected pain distracts him enough to keep him from cumming, but that only makes it worse. So, you let him.

The subtle vibration combined with the sharp bite of your nails sends him reeling. His expression goes completely lax, and then—

"I'm cumming...oh my god—," he all but sobs, burying himself as deep as you can take him.

You struggle to breathe through your nose as he empties down your throat, swallowing as much as you can, but you've been edging him for too long.

Viscous fluid leaks out of the corners of your mouth and down his cock, adding to the wet mess in his lap, and your harsh grasp on his thighs only seems to prolong his orgasm. After what feels like a lifetime, his whimpers taper into soft pants and he starts to rub soothing patterns into your scalp, an apology for his rough treatment.

You blearily meet his eyes, and they're glassy and unfocused, watching you reverently like he can't believe you just let him do something he's only ever seen in porn. And that you actually liked it. Shakily, he reaches out to thumb away the release dribbling down your chin, and you pull off of him briefly to suck it off his finger before returning to his cock.

That's why you do this night after night—that look right there. It's the awe and hunger that linger even after he's already thoroughly blissed out and softening in your grasp.

Except tonight, he's not. Mike is somehow still hard as a rock and thrusting weakly into your mouth, trembling like a leaf now that his aftershocks have subsided and the sensitivity is setting in.

Tentatively, you grip him at the base and swirl your tongue around the tip to gauge his reaction, and when he doesn't push you away, you take him further into your mouth. But on your next hard suck, his lips part and a violent shudder wracks his entire body, so you hesitate and pull off.

"Too much?" you wince, slowly uncurling your fingers from around his cock, but he shakes his head furiously.

"N-no, feels...so much," he says, dazed, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Feels good. Can you keep going? Please."

His face is screwed up, as tense as the rest of him as he struggles with conflicting feelings of intense pleasure and pain, but he's not fighting it. He's actually enjoying it.

He flinches as you resume your movements, toying under the ridge with the tip of your thumb, and begins to squirm the longer you continue to play with him. A quick glance at the clock tells you there's still an hour and a half left of your shift—that's plenty of time.

In the four nights you've worked here, the security monitors haven't shown a single sign of activity and you doubt they're going to start now. Your gaze drops from his pained, yet hopeful expression to his twitching cock, and you make a decision.

You'll go as long as he wants. After all, you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

"Mhm, whatever you want," you hum, then sink back onto him. He sighs gratefully, shivering at the sensation and your words, and verbalizes his gratitude repeatedly like a prayer.

"Thank you, thank you."

thanks for reading!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

[crabsnpersimmons]

"Hair dyes or perms or just a quick snip, you can always count on your ol' pal Clip!"

it's about time i officially shared my design for Clip from my hairdresser au! here's the silly boi himself!

a.k.a. the most complicated character i've ever designed...

close ups and additional comments under the cut!

that's my boi, despite his crazy design, i love him. his silly top knot hat, the horn-like points around his faceplate, his speckled colours, his four arms, and his funky pants. he's just soooooo fun.

Clip likes to play games and knit! he even made the patchwork pants he wears (he made Sun and Moon a pair too, but they're too precious for them to wear... also a little gaudy to wear in public—doesn't stop Clip tho!). He actually makes everything the boys wear, since there's not a lot of things in their size/shape.

instead of resting at night, he can be found in their living room, playing Kirby 64 for the nth time and/or knitting something. he's just too restless to stay still, he's always gotta be doing something and if it isn't gaming, knitting, or hairdressing, then he's up to No GoodTM.

Clip... likes popping balloons. he says "Goodnight!" with each popped balloon and once he's done, he tosses up the scraps like confetti all while giggling joyfully.

needless to say, he is not fun at parties. Sun and Moon don't let him near balloons for this reason.

and yes, he has sewing needles on hand at all times. for fashion emergencies... and for unsuspecting balloons.

Clip's not allowed to have a phone (just imagine all the in-app purchases Sun and Moon would have to deal with), but he likes to keep up with his customers and their games, even if he doesn't get their fixation over bluenets he'll never openly admit it but he prefers curly-haired blond hunks that look sweet in soft pastels but could also squash him like the spider he is

also, he's great at microbraiding! though i imagine if Sun and Moon are free, they'd come help to shorten the wait but also to compete and see who braids the most (Clip always wins of course—make anything into a game, and he's winning)

aaaaand there's this! i wanted to make sure Clip would be able to freely rotate his waist so his arms could have their full range of motion, and this was the solution i came up with: a crop top on top and a wrap around his waist. and Clip here is being a sneaky little scamp about it.

[hairloveindiajaipur]

Right hair accessories can be a game changer in your hair care routine. This blog "Hair Grooming Tools and Accessories: A Comprehensive Guide for Optimal Use" will help you to discover the right tools to enhance your hair care.

[babyyhoneyyy]

Trouble H.S

SURPRISE!!! i have a cutesy little one-shot (if you can even call it that 😭) just for you in celebration of my ONE MONTH TUMBLR WRITING ANNIVERSARY WOOH!! thank you to everyone who ever liked, shared, followed, replied, asked I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH THANK YOU for making me fall in love with writing all over again! i hope you like this one!

The one where Y/N is feeling needy, and Harry’s got the perfect solution for her.

word count: 3.6K

content warning: mature. nothing toooo crazy. meandom!bf!harry (WOOOH) but its no specific pairing <3

The first time Harry met Y/N was through their mutual friend, Freya, who essentially forced the two to go on a blind date.

Harry’s constant moping about how sad and lonely he was what finally convinced his considerate friend that he desperately needed to go on a date and be with someone romantically. Freya knew Harry’s sister, and Freya was one of Y/N’s oldest friends, so when she heard that Y/N was single, she didn’t waste another day to start convincing them to go out with each other.

Freya was always sort of naturally gifted— in the sense that she somehow ended up making the right choices based solely on her gut feelings and intuition.

Apparently she saw a dream; one which left her hell-bent on having her two friends date. She knew Harry was a caring, soft-hearted and friendly guy, and Y/N was an intelligent girl who wore her heart on her sleeve— in her eyes, there was no better match.

After weeks of pestering and convincing the two of them, they finally decided to give in to their friend and go out with each other on a single date.

Surprisingly, the date went way better than they both expected. Harry was lethally gorgeous, someone Y/N would never consider pursuing based solely on the fact that she thought he was way out of her league. His brown curly hair and pretty green eyes were roguishly charming, and he had a way with words that had Y/N constantly swooning.

They both drove to the outdoor theatre Freya bought them tickets for, and the whole time there, Harry was a teenage dream; he took her around the little stalls set up by the carpark and bought her cotton candy and popcorn, said something about her eyes and the lights strung up in the dim area which made Y/N’s tummy flip and tucked her right into his side in the middle of the little pallet he created in the back of his car.

She was blushing when he stroked his hand up and down her side, checking in with her after every thirty minutes to see if she needed anything. She was blushing when he stopped staring at the screen and opted to admire her instead, starting up a whispered conversation so as to not disturb the other movie-watchers, and she was blushing when at the end of the night, he cupped her jaw and softly asked her if it was okay to kiss her.

There was no way Y/N could ever say no to a face like his. Harry kissed her and it was amazing, she had butterflies and an infectious smile that just wouldn’t budge. That night was one of the best she’d ever had, and her heart fattened up tenfold the morning after as he gave her a call, promising her another date at his house.

He courted her properly; took her out on numerous dates before sleeping with her, didn’t play any games when he would text her and began every outing with a bouquet of roses presented to her. He was everything a girl could want, and he finally asked her to be his girlfriend on the fourth date, her hand in his and their ankles looped together beneath the dinner table.

Ever since then, Y/N felt satisfied with her lovelife in a way she never was before. Whereas before most of her past partners struggled with communication, Harry made the effort that both Y/N and him talked thoroughly about any and everything that might impact their relationship. Where Y/N previously felt suffocated sometimes because her partners didn’t give her enough space, she was able to have time for herself with Harry after she let him know how important that was to her.

It was a textbook, perfect relationship, where Harry was a doting boyfriend, and Y/N was treasured like the princess she always wanted to be.

That was until it came to their sexlife. Now, that was a whole other story.

The second the door to their bedroom shut, a flip was switched and Y/N was exposed to a side of Harry she never thought existed. He was stern and dominant, firm in his actions and he knew what he wanted every time they were in bed.

He was careful with her and sat her down (in true Harry fashion) before they first slept together to let her know of his preferences between the sheets. Of course, Y/N was still his girlfriend, and he valued nothing more than his partners consent and comfort when having sex.

It also was not Y/N’s first time stepping into the world of dominants and punishments and bondage and whatnot, but it was definitely her first time engaging in it with someone she really liked. She wanted to be perfect for him, and he wanted to be perfect for her.

Harry lucked out with Y/N, because she was immediately on board with his slightly different requests.

That led to their sexual chemistry being absolutely insane.

A couple of nights together later, Harry felt he knew Y/N’s body like the back of his hand, and Y/N felt she knew Harry’s like the back of her hand.

The first night they slept together, it wasn’t too crazy.

Maybe Harry held her wrists above her head as he fucked her into the mattress, and he might have given her a spank or two as they switched when she was on top. She was able to come whenever she wanted and Harry was ready to give her everything she needed.

The second time they slept together, Harry asked her to hold her arms behind her back while she sucked his cock, and Y/N sweetly asked Harry if he would just tie her hands together instead. The proposal had him stuttering for a second— obviously they spoke about dabbling in bondage before they decided to have sex, but he wasn’t expecting her to be ready to indulge in his tastes so soon.

Nonetheless, he did as she asked and took out one of his basic silk ties to bind her wrists together while he fucked her mouth and came all over her jaw.

Every time they slept together, they were able to take it another step further, and now, eleven months into the relationship, Y/N and Harry were well-versed with each other's sexual needs. They were both at a stage where they had discussed most of the kinks they were into, both willing to try new things if at least one of them was interested.

It was safe to say that they were both equally satisfied with their sexlife as with their practical life. The relationship just worked, and this was something they both valued greatly.

Tonight was one such night where Y/N wanted to celebrate that, i.e, whenever she saw fit, she was planning to ask Harry to kindly pound her into the mattress until she was silly. She was in that stage of her cycle— where she was drooling at the sight of Harry’s biceps and wanted nothing more than to chew on his veiny hands like a puppy.

She would have done something about it when they both woke up in the morning, with Harry looking like he walked straight out of a romcom in her softly-lit bedroom, but then he got a text from his work, on a fucking Saturday, pleading him to urgently hop onto a Zoom meeting which apparently couldn’t wait another forty-two hours. That way Y/N lost a clingy Harry who otherwise would have kept her in bed for at least two more hours after they woke, just making out and talking, touching bare skin and tangling nimble fingers.

Much to her dismay, the meeting ended up running until super late in the afternoon. By that time, Y/N was wet and sticky between her legs, with an angry pout on her face which depicted her intense frustration.

When Harry spotted her brooding in the kitchen, he came up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “what’s got my girl all tense?” Y/N sighed and looked up at him, letting him thumb away her bottom lip.

Normally, Y/N would easily tell Harry that she was feeling needy and wanted his attention, but she was in a mood, and she felt like being a bit stubborn with him, taking out all her anger on her poor unsuspecting boyfriend. She crossed her arms over her chest, “nothing.”

She shrugged him off and turned around to grab the croissant she was microwaving when he circled his fingers around her wrist and pulled her to him again, “did I do something? Why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry,” she lied, “just… tired.” She put her croissant on a plate and dodged his frowny face as she sat down by the floating island.

“Baby, you know you can tell me if anything is wrong,” he said, “I’m happy to talk to you about whatever it is.” He sat down next to her and twisted his seat so he faced her.

The look on his face would have made Y/N fold, but she felt really mad at him, which was insanely unreasonable (because how exactly was Harry meant to know his girlfriend was so horny she was borderline murderous), but a girl had to release her frustrations somewhere.

“I told you I’m fine. Just tired,” she snapped. Harry was unfazed though— he knew something was up and she was giving him an attitude for no apparent reason. He didn’t react like she expected him to; instead, he knocked his knee into hers, “okay,” he reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

A beat passed.

“I’m gonna go see Sam for dinner tonight.”

Now that made Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up.

She had completely forgotten that Harry had plans with his cousin that weekend who was visiting the country from overseas. Harry had told her about it ages ago, but Y/N probably forgot and didn’t clock that it would be tonight.

She literally felt like she could cry at the thought of not having Harry for the night— what had gotten into her? Since when was she so fucking desparate?

Her thoughts surprised even herself as she masked her emotions as best as she could and frowned, “oh,” she bit off her croissant, “have fun.”

Harry’s eyes slightly narrowed watching her chew and avoid his gaze; something was bothering her and he knew her well enough to understand that she wouldn’t spill so easily. He waited for her to swallow before grabbing her jaw and pressing a kiss to her bottom lip. She tasted sweet, like the chocolate filling inside the pastry, and Harry struggled to pull himself away from nibbling at her lip. A ringed hand came up to her nape as he did, “I’ll miss you.”

The kiss did soften Y/N a little bit, so she mustered up a small, albeit sad, smile for her boyfriend. “Me too.”

-

The second Harry left the house, Y/N felt like she was going to die.

Not only did she feel all hot and bothered between her legs, but she was mad at Harry for leaving her in such a needy state to go have dinner with his cousin (in all honesty, it wasn’t the man’s fault, he wasn’t a mind reader for goodness sake, (but Y/N was not ready to admit that)). She huffed and puffed a little bit and rolled around her bed, wondering if she should just give in and touch herself.

The issue was that it wasn’t that simple; ever since she started sleeping with Harry, her fingers or any of her toys just didn’t seem enough. She always found herself craving something else— something warmer, and longer, able to touch all of her favourite spots, throbbing—

She was losing her mind.

She needed a way to channel all this horniness, and the easiest outlet at the moment was being angry at Harry.

All these thoughts lead to a sinister idea that materialised in her head. Y/N was quick to get up from her self-wallow spot on the bed and made her way over to her closet. She pulled open her lingerie drawer and fished around for one of her prettier, darker coloured sets. She spotted one of her favourites— a red three piece, with lace panties and an almost see-through bra. To wear on top was a short little nightie, which was sleeveless and mostly lace and pinned together in the middle or her chest where the two cups of her bra met.

Y/N hurried to the bathroom, giddy to execute the plan she was concocting and put on the lingerie. It was a shade of red that especially enhanced her complexion and sat perfectly on her body. The bra made her tits look luscious, spilling over the fabric and the panties sat high on her hips. To top it all off was the nightie, which reached the top of her thighs and flowed when she twirled.

This was one of her sets that Harry had not been privy to— she only recently bought it on a shopping trip with her friends. She was originally planning to whip it out on their one year anniversary which was coming up, but she thought tonight would suffice too; she’ll get another set for their anniversary or something.

Y/N admired herself in the mirror for a bit. The lingerie did look really good on her. She knew a special someone would enjoy it even more than she did. This was the crux of her plan; she was going to show Harry what he was missing.

Quickly, Y/N grabbed her phone off the mattress and faced the full length mirror that hung next to her closet door. She opened the camera app and turned off the lights, so only the soft lighting of her lamp illuminated the right side of her body. The vibe she was trying to give off was sexy and romantic, and she did just that as she took a couple of photos of herself in the mirror in various poses— crossing her legs so her hips looked more fuller, resting a hand on one of her tits and one of her from behind, with her panties disappearing between her ass cheeks.

After she was satisfied with the photos, she took off the nightie and tugged on one of Harry’s t-shirts, grinning down at her phone. She looked hot, and she knew he would think so too. In an act of defiance, Y/N clicked open her and Harry’s chat and sent him two of her favourite photos; one of her from the front, and one from the back.

Her tummy fluttered with anticipation as she stared at her screen, and a few seconds later it showed that Harry had seen the message. Poor Harry, who probably thought his girlfriend would be asking him what time he’d be home, or telling him how much she missed him… except she was telling him how much she missed him, but her means of doing so were a little bit eccentric.

For a while the screen only showed that he saw the picture, until, about a minute later, she saw the three dots that signalled that Harry was typing. The icon showed for about fifteen seconds before disappearing. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she wondered what Harry was possibly about to say. She anticipated a text from him, still waiting for her screen to show the notification but it didn't— not for the next fifteen minutes, or the next hour or three.

She didn’t hear back from him and just that thought alone had her heart in her throat and her nails between her teeth. What was he going to type back? What did he think of the photos? Did he not like them? Were they only good in her horny, sex-driven brain?

The next three hours were spent pacing in her room, and then panic cleaning the living room and the kitchen. She was feeling antsy, unable to sit down peacefully. Y/N wasn’t one to pull risky moves such as that one, so she had no idea what to expect of Harry and what he thought of her little stunt.

By time she was done vacuuming the whole apartment, it was 9PM . Soon enough, she heard the rattle of Harry’s keys by the door. Her fingers twiddled in anticipation and she awkwardly stood by the kitchen island when he walked in.

He looked handsome as ever, dressed in slacks and a black button up. His hair was pushed back and he was freshly shaved, skin as smooth as a baby’s bum. Y/N nervously walked up to him. She was wary as she met his gaze, “hey. How was dinner?”

Harry looked at her intently, literally peering into her soul— and shrugged, “was fine.”

He went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass to fill it with water. Y/N stood dumbfounded behind him.

Did he not remember seeing the photos?

“How was Sam?” She asked. She walked over to him and leaned against the counter next to the sink so she faced him. Harry didn’t say anything as he finished his water and then took his phone and wallet out of his pocket. He set the two on the counter and then began taking off his rings; first the two with his initials on them, then followed the tiger on his left pinky, and then the golden ring with a blue crystal embedded in the middle which Y/N gave him for his birthday.

The sound of the rings hitting the counter felt like bricks falling from the sky in the oddly quiet living room. Just as Y/N was going to ask if he heard her or not, Harry spoke up, facing away from her, “looked like you had fun when I was gone.”

“Um… I d—“

“I was showing something to Sam on my phone when you sent those fucking pictures. He could have seen them.” His voice was cold and biting, and when he turned around to face her, his jaw was clenched. Y/N felt her cheeks burn, “how was I supposed to know that?” she retorted.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You know better than to text me nudes when I’m in public, Y/N. I thought you needed something and was about to open the fucking message in front of him.”

Y/N was speechless, feeling her mouth open and close as she watched him approach her and wrap a hand around the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair slightly. He didn't squeeze or anything, just held her and tipped her head back.

A look of realisation came over his face as he darted his eyes across hers, “unless you wanted him to see it too,” he started, voice low, “we already know how much of a slut you are.”

She felt that familiar zing in her lower belly at his words, raising her hands to grab his shirt.

“Hands off.”

Hands off. Easy. She knew how to listen.

Harry let go of her neck and turned her around in his grip, holding her hands behind her and pressing his chest to her back. She could feel his hard length pushed right up against her.

He spoke softly in her ear, “what’s your colour?”

She breathed in sharply, “green.”

Green, green, green.

This was exactly what Y/N was craving the whole day, and she wouldn’t be caught dead complaining about her current circumstances.

Harry sighed, scarily calm.

“Y’know, I felt so bad the entire time I was there. All I could think about was m’pouty girl I left at home,” he confessed. Y/N whimpered at his words and his touch as one hand travelled up to cup her breast.

“I jus’… I missed you and then you had that meeting for so long. I was feeling… needy.”

Harry tsked. “Poor baby,” he mocked, pinching her nipple through her shirt and bra. He pressed a line of open-mouthed kisses to the skin where her shoulder met her neck. The sensation was enough to make Y/N close her eyes and let her head fall back against his chest, “s’that why you sent those pictures? My girl just wanted some attention?”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, his hand quickly slipped higher to push his middle and ring finger into her mouth, deep enough that the initial shock made her gag. He stroked his fingers along her tongue shamelessly and tightened his grip on her hands. “I was gonna come home and give you my tongue. Make you come over and over and over, until you were feeling better. But now, I don’t think you should be able to come at all.”

Y/N whined pitifully over his fingers. She was sort of drooling as well, but Harry didn’t seem to mind. He withdrew his fingers and trailed them down her thigh, finding the edge of her (his) shirt. He left a wet line as he inched higher and higher, until he came in contact with her panties.

He groaned right into her ear when he felt the lace under his fingers, “fuck, you’re still wearing it?”

It was not really a question, because Y/N was not given any time to answer him. Instead, she yelped as he shoved her over the counter and flipped her shirt up. His hand smoothed over her ass and forced her into an arch, coming down on the skin with a sharp smack. Y/N cried into the marble, body jolting forward with the force of the impact. He gripped and kneaded the flesh right after, and then dropped his hand between her legs to feel how wet she was.

“Oh, baby… you’re soaked,” he noted and sighed. His fingers pressed deliciously against the lace, stimulating her clit just right. Y/N whined pitifully, “p—please, sir—“

Harry spanked her covered leaky pussy, shutting Y/N up effectively. She moaned.

“I don’t want to hear a single sound from you,” he ordered, “not right now, not when I’m eating you and not when I’m fucking this slutty cunt. Not a single word, nor a stutter.”

divider by @firefly-graphics

general taglist: @theotherwomannnn @babegoalsreads @harryslounge @angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf

@vashapnin @in-omn1a-paratus @youngpastafanmug @cohnfusedarling

HIIII!! ME AGAIN!!! i hope you enjoyed this tiny little piece teeheehehehe!!! let me know your thoughts i love love love to hear them!! THANK YOU thank you THANK YOUUU FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU HAVE SHWON ME IN THE PAST MONTH!! I APPRECIATE YOU ENDLESSLY!! MWUAH!! RMMBR TO LIKE REBLOG REPLY YADA YADA KISS KISS GOODNIGHT!! ILYYYYYYY

MASTERLIST

[immaterial-girl]

having curly hair is nice but its also going into the bathroom at work and gently wetting your hair as you whisper “please calm down”

[curated-tiktok]

OP: wizard_bisan1 posted: March 23 2024. link

visual description: Bisan, an arab girl with black curly hair, standing in the street wearing a hoodie. In the background there are four story tall buildings that are white. A couple people are walking in the background and some cars and horses are moving past. One of the cars is an ambulance with the flag of Palestine and the flag of Kuwait. Two red signs with white writing can be seen but the text is blurry.

During the video 3 different pictures are put up on screen. First a photograph of Muhammad al-Nunu. Later two from a news article about the israeli soldiers attacking, one showing the soldiers and one showing a brown tanks, there is text in Arabic. Another of three boys carrying a dead person.

transcript:

Hey everyone, this is Bisan from Gaza. It's the day 69 after hundred of the genocide and the day 13 of the holy month of Ramadan.

And it's the day six of the besieging and invading of Al Shifa hospital, attacking the hospital, the displaced people inside, the doctors and the injuries by the israeli army and the israeli soldiers, the israeli tanks and bulldozers.

So for those who don't know, people are either inside one building of Shifa complex buildings, without water, without food, without the ability to move anywhere or to get outside that building and to be executed.

And talking about execution today, Muhammad al-Nunu, he is a doctor. The israeli army executed Muhammad al-Nunu because he refused to leave the unit that he is working in and refused to leave his patients and preferred to stay to complete their treatment because a lot of the ICU, of the intensive care unit patients died, passed away because there is no electricity, there is no food, there is no staff, there is bombing and burning for the hospital utilities.

So he refused to leave them and he was executed. He was killed in front of the people, in front of the patients. This is what is happening now in Al Shifa hospital.

It is a hospital and this is happening to them.

Thousands of people, women, children and innocent men and civilians are stuck in a building, in Al Shifa hospital without food, without water.

They started to drink the hospital storage saline solutions. It's the only liquids that they have.

And no one is talking about that. No one, no media, not enough media, no government, no one is talking about this.

And this is not the only horrific thing that happened today in the north of Gaza Strip, by the way, today between ten to 20 people were killed by the israeli shooting on the liquid roundabout while they were waiting for their humanitarian aid.

They were waiting for food because they're starving to death. In the north of Gaza Strip, in Ramadan months, they were waiting for food and they were killed by the israeli army.

How many times we need to scream more about that?

The north of Gaza Strip is under attack like it was the first days of this genocide. Exactly.

They are brutally killed and bombed. It is a hospital with thousands of innocent people, medical staff, injuries, civilians, and they are starved - to death. They are without water, without treatment

They are bleeding in front of each other until the death. And everyone is out of the building executed by snipers or inside starving to death.

This is what is happening now inside Al Shifa Hospital now, at this moment, for six days.

transcript end

caption:

North updates, very important.. watch to the end.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

The Team Crushes on Their Manager

Team Japan x GN! reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing

AN: this was due approx. 570 of you ago but nevertheless, here we go 🎉

Where do I even start?

Probably from the beginning because that’s when it ALL started

It was your first day as Team Japan’s new manager

No other job prospects huh Yn?

You were filled with hope and a renewed sense of purpose 🤩

You’d always loved Volleyball whether you played it, watched it or read a very specific manga surrounding it 👀

It was safe to say you were a fan!

The job seemed relatively straightforward

You’d come to work, take care of a bunch of world class athletes, clock out and repeat

Easy right?

Sure….

You walked into the building on your first day and it started almost immediately

There is no easing into this job YN 😌

“Well hello there gorgeous,” a very untoned blonde who seriously needed his roots retouched whistled

“Umm hi! I was wondering if you could-” you started to say before being unfortunately interrupted 🙄

“You want my autograph don’t ya sweetheart?” The blonde smirked, conveniently pulling out a sharpie that seemed to manifest from thin air

“Oh no, I’m looking for-” you try to say again before again being interrupted

“ATSUMU!” A voice shouted as you saw a rather angry looking man with black spiky hair marching up to you and the blonde, “what did I tell you about harassing guests?”

“I wasn’t harassing ‘em!” The blonde, known as Atsumu shouted back

Meanwhile you are just standing there like 🧍

“If you weren’t harassing them, then why do they look like they wanna run for their lives?” Another tall man with curly black hair replied, approaching from behind you

“SHUT YER TRAP SAKUSA!” Atsumu yelled again as the spiky haired man spoke

“If you both don’t get your asses back into that gym right now!”

Atsumu rolled his eyes before responding, “yes Iwaizumi” and turning to leave

But not before shooting a very unsolicited wink in your direction 🙄

“Stop making people feel so uncomfortable,” Sakusa berated as he and Atsumu argued back to the gym

“I’m so sorry about that. You must be Yn?” Iwaizumi asked turning to you as you smiled back widely

“That’s me!” You giggled as Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and his face turned pink at your sheer adorableness

Iwaizumi is just happy that you seem excited

He’s tired Yn, help him please

Iwaizumi begins showing you around the gym while various, rather large men walk past you

You excitedly ask questions, smiling and laughing

The guys are all like 👀👀👀👀👀

They’d heard about a new prospective manager starting but dang, you were way cuter than they imagined

After the tour you made your way to the gym with Iwaizumi to finally meet the team

As you stood there, adorable and bubbly, they all just stared at you like a bunch of creeps 😅

You remember in Season 2 when Yachi joined Karasuno and Suga had to tell Noya and Tanaka to stop staring…

Yeah that’s exactly what’s happening right now 😂

Iwaizumi is giving everyone his death glare because there is absolutely no way he’s letting anyone ruin this for him!

Iwa rn 👉🏻 🔥 👄🔥

Of course you notice them all looking at you but you simply think it’s because you are new

Delusion is always the solution Yn

“And finally, this is Yn, our new manager. I expect nothing but respect and kindness from you guys!” Coach yells as you smile and wave a greeting

“I’m so excited to work with you all!” You say, smiling bright as your eyes sparkle with excitement

This was the first of many incidents that sealed your fate

Now some of the team members fell hard for you immediately

*cough* ATSUMU, BOKUTO, HINATA *cough*

While others took a while to warm up to you

They all thought you were cute and sweet sure but it was your actions that spoke the loudest

For example…

“Hey Sakusa, I heard you are particular about laundry and hygiene, if you could please tell me the products you prefer so I can accommodate you? Oh and I’d you’d like, I can wear a mask around you to make you more comfortable!” You excitedly spoke, standing 6 feet apart from Sakusa so as to not be right in his space

Sakusa rn 👉🏻👁️👄👁️

“Umm sure I can text you a list and you don’t have to wear a mask if you aren’t comfortable,” he responds, honestly shocked because who are you

You wave your hands and smile, “oh no it’s really ok! I’m very accommodating!”

It was safe to say you’d captured our precious Sakusa’s attention

But it doesn’t stop there

“Hey Suna, I noticed you left your arm guards in on the bench yesterday! I washed them for you last night oh and I recorded a video of Atsumu flubbing a serve and accidently hitting Kageyama. I can send it to you if you’d like?” You laughed as Suna just stared in awe

Who the heck were you and why were you so amazing!

Not only that but you provided help to Aran and Ushijima when it came to taking diligent notes about the teams progress

Made sure Kageyama had plenty to eat and got enough sleep

You measured down to the very millimeter for jump heights, making sure Hoshiumi knew exactly where he stood against the other players

You stayed late to help Komori and Yaku with their receiving practice

You came early to unlock the gym for Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata because lord knows they can’t be out of the gym for more than 8 hours 🙄

You even made sure the guys all followed Iwaizumi’s strict training regime to ensure they all stayed healthy and in the best shape!

It was easy to see why they all had fallen for you!

Competent, pretty, kind, amazing and funny? A perfect combination!

It had been about 6 months and you’d more than proven your worth as a manager

You’d even spent time outside of practice with all of them both individually as well as in groups

Surprisingly they’d all managed to keep their little crushes on you to a minimum

They respected you and didn’t want to mess up anything

When I say “they” I actually mean “most of them”…

Because, ya know, some people just can’t stop themselves 👀

It was safe to say they all knew each other had a crush on their precious manager

But for the sake of teamwork, most of them kept it to themselves

However, there is some people who can only hold it in so long

“I’m thinking about asking YN out this weekend,” Atsumu boldly and nonchalantly says

And just like that, the entire locker room halts

“Excuse me?” Yaku says, staring at Atsumu like he’s about to commit a felony

“What? YN is such a cutie and so awesome! Is it really a surprise that I’d ask them out?” Atsumu replies

All eyes narrow on the setter as he looks back confused

“And what makes you think YN even likes you?” Suna jokes as the rest of the team nods

“Awe come on! It’s pretty safe to say Yn has a crush on me, look at all the stuff they do for me,” Atsumu continues

“So? YN does that for all of us. Plus, maybe another one of us wants to ask them out?” Sakusa adds as Atsumu narrows his eyes

“Ok then, who wants to ask YN out?”

Literally all hands shoot up as the guys look around at each other, eyes wide as the realization sinks in

Soon the shock wears off and they narrow their eyes at each other like a duel in the Ok corral is about to go down 😑

“Well there’s no way all of us asking out YN would be a good idea. We’d probably scare them away!” Komori mentioned

“Nah, if Atsumu hasn’t scared them yet, pretty sure we’re safe,” Aran remarked as Atsumu looked at his friend, offended by his remarks

“What if we draw lots?” Hyakuzawa questioned

“That’s not really far to YN tho, what if they have a particular interest in a member?” Yaku answered

“First one to ask Yn out then?” Hakuba remarked

“Oh yeah, just a bunch of grown ass men running up to YN screaming ‘YN GO OUT WITH ME!’ That sounds like nightmare fuel!” Hoshiumi replied

“Ok so then we let Yn decide,” Iwa added, coming through the doors having just listened to the conversation, “we do our best to win YN’s affections and we let them decide.”

The team all nodded in agreement, ready for the challenge of winning their precious YN’s heart

The next morning, the gym felt different

You could tell immediately the moment you stepped in

“Good morning YN, I bought you coffee!” Iwaizumi smiled, handing you a cup of your favorite pick me up

“Thanks Hajime! I really needed this!”

“Hey Yn, I thought maybe you’d wanna have lunch with me today? My treat,” Yaku interrupted

“That would be awesome Mori!”

“Here Yn, I know how much you love these flowers so I got up early to go to the market to get some,” Sakusa flushed, pushing the flowers in your direction

“Wow thanks Kiyoomi! They are beautiful!”

Were these boys being weird? Sure

Were you gonna fight it? Absolutely not

Now these shenanigans continued for a few weeks and at first they were innocent

But then bringing you coffee, flowers or the occasional chocolate morphed into full blown outings

“Hey YN, I’m going to the art museum this weekend? You wanna come?” Komori asked as your eyes lit up

You loved art!!

“Hey YN, I’m gonna grab sushi tonight after practice, you wanna come?” Gao would ask as your mouth salivated

You loved sushi!

“Hey YN, I’m planning on going to the dog park with Hirugami tonight, you wanna come?” Hoshiumi would ask

Dogs? Say less!

“Hey YN, there’s a new cat cafe that just opened up, you wanna go with me?” Suna would declare

Cats? ABSOLUTELY

It took you a while to catch on that there was something strange going on with these guys

While the putting seemed innocent, their motives definitely were not

After a while, you’d finally gotten sick of it all and just asked

It was after practice, the gym was quiet

And there you were

“What is up with you guys taking me on all these dates for?”

… there to ruin it

Their amount of wide-eyed staring and red faces gave them away quicker than a smoking volcano

You sighed, knowing you had to tell them the truth

“Listen guys, I like you all but only as friends and coworkers ok?”

They all collectively sighed, having all been rejected at the same time

You felt bad but at the same time, they needed to know your feelings for them were platonic

“Hey we can still go out and have fun but it’ll only be as friends ok? Plus I have a boyfriend already.”

Their eyes all shot up at you, wondering who exactly it would be

“Wait you had a boyfriend this whole time?” Atsumu questioned

Yep :D

“Like before you even started working with us?” Yaku asked

Yep : D

“Ok then how come we’ve never met him before?” Sakusa demanded as you smiled

“Oh you have, he talks about you guys all the time!” You respond as everyone but Iwaizumi looks confused

“YN you’re not dating him, please YN anyone but him!” Iwa shouts, running up to you and shaking you as your grin devilishly

It seems to finally hit the others as their eyes go from shocked to horrified in a matter of seconds.

Before they can even process his name, they hear a “yoohoo Yn-Chan” radiate throughout the gym

Surprise an Oikawa ending 😅 if you didn’t see it coming, do you even know who I am? I will always work that man into everything possible!

[hairloveindia]

Silk vs Satin Pillowcases: Which Are Better for Curly Hair ?

Discover the ultimate hair love with Silk vs. Satin Pillowcases! Which reigns supreme for curly hair? Unlock the secret to frizz-free mornings with Hair Love India.

[aneveningsword]

𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader warnings: not proofread words: 685 summary: a spare hair tie becomes the solution to Spencer's problem

masterlist

It's common knowledge that the curls Spencer Reid had were untammable. No amount of brushing, hair product or spray could keep them at bay. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and nothing could control their will. If they wished to defy gravity, that is what they would do, if they wanted to stick out the sides of his head making him look like a chicken, that's what they would do.

You found it endearing how no matter how many times the man tried to push the curls out of his face, they simply flew back into place. The annoyance was almost pliable, the emotion etched clearly on his face for everyone to see. You could not help but find some amusement in the Doctor's frustration. How something that seemed so simple could get the better of him. Spencer could recite useless facts off the top of his head, and he could pinpoint the general area where an unsub might be, but he could not win against his curly hair.

From the coffee machine, you could see how Spencer's body rocked with a deep huff as the hair he just pulled back from his face, flopped back into his eyes. It was a sad sight, seeing the frustration tense up his slender body. You felt a bit of pity for the man who was clearly debating just cutting off all his hair.

A warm cup of coffee in hand you head towards Spencer's desk hoping to provide the genius a simple and obvious solution to his problem. "Hair giving you some problems?" The question held a small joking tone as the coffee was placed in a small clear space on his desk. A place for it to sit as you pulled the hair tie off your wrist.

"Is it that obvious?" The man asks with an underlying tone of annoyance, something you do not take to heart. A small smile forms on your face as you are behind the desk chair he was perched on. His face contorts into one of confusion as he tries to follow you around, chair moving slightly as he tries to keep you within eyesight.

"Sit still, eyes at the front." you scold jokingly, grabbing the back of his chair to swivel him around to where you want him. A small huff would leave Reid, but he would not move from the spot you put him in. The elastic hairband in your hand would snap slightly as you begin carefully moving his hair into your awaiting hand. You attempted to be as careful as you could be, not wishing to tug on his hair and cause some pain.

With most of his locks secured in your hand, it was time to finish it off with the hairband. With precision and care, you would loop it around a couple of times to ensure it would not fall out before letting go of his hair altogether. A proud grin on your face as you eyed your work, while not all his hair was captured by the hair tie, it was good enough.

There was a moment of bliss as your fingers threaded through Spencer's hair, taking care not to get caught in the curls. It was relaxing, having someone else play with your hair. Soft and careful hands ran through his hair, curling it around your finger, it was bliss in his mind. A sensation he did not wish to stop.

"Done," Your voice pulled him from his thoughts as you spun him back around carefully to face you. Warm eyes look up at you expectantly, waiting for you to decide if your work was well done or not. He watched the concentration fill your eyes as you scanned over his face and hair, making sure no rogue curls were going to annoy him too much.

"Perfect, utterly perfect if I do say so myself." Your voice was filled with a sense of achievement, the smile you wore was contagious. The stress of his hair problems leaves him with the help of your simple solution. A well-placed hair tie.

[janitorhutcherson]

Sacred Self Care (Mike Schmidt)

i'm 100% supposed to be cleaning my room up for family but i may go insane if i do not write RIGHT NOW!! so, this is something i've had in my mind for so long. i PROMISE after thanksgiving i'll give yall peeta and finnick content and get to more asks. i could not hold back on this one any longer though, so sit back, and enjoy!

summary: mike discovers self care, but what happens when his ritual becomes a little too intricate and he ends up in a silly predicament?

warnings: mentions of nudity, one or two innuendos

word count: 2,288

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Mike Schmidt did not have time to take care of himself. This was a fact that was all too noticeable. His dry curls practically begged to be lathered in moisture, or at least in something that wasn’t a bar of soap that was also used on his face and body. His nails were dirty whenever he was busiest, the only time they were well groomed being when he was prepared to be knuckles deep inside of you. His eyebags were sunken in and his facial hair grew in patches, untrimmed. Mike did not care, nor did he think wasting time on such a meticulous thing would be beneficial to him. There were better things to do than to primp himself when he could be doing something more productive, such as getting to the bottom of his brother’s disappearance… thirteen years later. When he wasn’t obsessing over every minute detail in his dream that could lead him to the solution or fathering Abby in his own backwards but still productive way, he was admiring you and your glory.

While Mike may not have been someone for self-care, you most definitely were. You were constantly looking up new ways to better yourself, new hair masks to try and new ways to make your skin as smooth as butter. The water bill also certainly showed your love for self-care. Some nights, you’d prance into the bedroom after an intricate shower, throwing your leg up on the bed as you demanded for Mike’s rough hands to feel, every centimeter of hair gone, the smell of cocoa butter sifting in the air. He was amused when he’d walk in to you sitting on the couch, some new green goop slathered on your face, or some strange piece of paper stuck to your nose. On occasion, you’d convince Mike to join you and Abby, his desperation to spend more quality time with the two of you trumping his disdain for fifteen minutes of clay on his face. He’d peel away at chunks as they flaked into his lap, you and Abby giggling every few seconds as the pile would grow amusingly larger before Mike would give up, running to the bathroom to scrub his face clean before the timer went off.

He wasn’t sure when it clicked. Perhaps it was when Abby told him he’d looked rough lately (he attempted to take this with a grain of salt, as she was his little sister, scolding her and telling her that was not very nice) or perhaps it was when one morning after work, he’d noticed new wrinkles covering his forehead and increasingly pale skin with purple dips underneath his eyes. One day, he found himself in the shampoo aisle at Target. It started with something simple. He bought real shampoo and conditioner, specifically designed for curly dry hair. He enjoyed the scent it radiated as he lathered it through his locks in the warm shower, the aftermath amazing. He’d never seen his hair so fluffy as it dried, his once brittle strands now feeling smooth as he ran his fingertips through it. Then, there was skincare. Somehow, he ended up getting a free sample in the mail from one of those makeup subscription companies you subscribed to, the company accidentally sending you a made-for-men miniature face wash and eye cream set. You eagerly tossed it his way with a giggle, assuming he tossed it in the trash the moment he got it. Instead, that very night, Mike added it to his shower along with his brand-new hair products, patting the eye cream underneath his eyes once he got out. The next morning, the once deep reddish purple was now only tinted a light color. Before he knew it, underneath the cabinet tucked away in a corner were different hair oils, beard creams, moisturizers, and lotions. He’d gotten into different kinds of cologne, opting for scented deodorants as well.

Mike had to admit, he enjoyed this new routine of his. As it progressed, it became almost ritualistic. He’d get home from work at exactly 6:15, about 45 minutes before you’d wake up. He would hop into the shower, taking in the feeling of his fingertips massaging his scalp, his body feeling the tension flooding down as the water from the shower flooded down the drain. Then, the aromatic smell of musky body wash would fill his nose, cleansing his senses of the smell of ancient dusts from working at the pizzeria. He’d step out of the shower, his skin tinted pink from the hot water, his face freshly washed. He’d apply lotion, shape his beard and add his creams, he’d even gotten into grooming his nails every night, ensuring they were crisply clean and applying a protective clear coat on top.

He couldn’t quite figure out why he was so embarrassed by his ritual. Perhaps it was the way it made him feel less masculine, knowing damn well deep down that it didn’t make him any less of a man and it was just his years’ worth of built-up toxic masculinity that you were so desperately trying to get him to break down. Maybe it was the way he was splurging on things he simply didn’t feel he needed until now, until it suddenly felt like a necessity, something he’d go insane without. Most of all and the most likely of all the scenarios, it was admitting that he was wrong, that something you and Abby had so desperately attempted to beg him to get into was exactly what the two of you had explained to him. It was majestic and comforting. At least 45 minutes a day were dedicated to him and only himself, his whole body feeling renewed each time he stepped out of the shower. He felt rebirthed, imagining this was what religious people felt when they were deemed ‘saved’ at confessional. Even with that being said, he couldn’t let you and Abby in on his little ritual. No, he couldn’t possibly admit to it. It wasn’t because he wanted to hide something from you two but instead because his embarrassment seeped deep down into his skull every time he thought about revealing it. Instead, he would slowly creep himself into bed, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pretending to sleepily open his eyes as your alarm went off.

You’d suspected he was hiding something, and you were worried. The new signature scents, the freshly groomed look, the way he seemed to care more about his clothing and the wrinkles that were shown. Your first thought was that there was somebody else, someone he had needed to impress, much like he once felt the need to impress you every time he was around you, suppressing his comfortable and more Mike-like fashion choices. In the mornings, you’d sense the lack of his presence after hearing the door creak open, feeling the bed dip right before your alarm went off, sirens ringing in your head each time as if to warn you something wasn’t right. You would spend some nights he was away at work after Abby was in bed evaluating who it could possibly be. There was Vanessa, the blonde police officer who would make occasional appearances in conversation. There was the waitress at the diner who’d taken a liking to Mike, but you weren’t sure who else it could be. Of course, women ogled over Mike all the time in public. There was something about a man with a slightly off putting aura and messy tussled hair. But regardless, you had always trusted him, and besides, Mike didn’t really talk to many people as is.

It wasn’t until Mike added in a peel off face mask into the mix that the jig was up. One week, he’d managed to get the entire week off, ensuring the pizzeria was boarded closed and begging Vanessa to keep an eye on things. You’d felt slightly better having him around more and at normal hours. He was very much still head over heels for you, following you around like a lost puppy, the two of you showering together, cooking together, and of course, having as much ‘alone time’ as you could possibly fit in when Abby was asleep or away at a friends. Even with that, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were passed out on the couch after a movie night and it was late. Mike had crept away from the living room, tucking your sleeping body under a blanket, slipping into the shower. He followed his typical ritual, something he’d had to put off for a while in fear of getting caught, still unsure of what made him so anxious. After his shower, he applied his peel off mask, attempting to avoid his facial hair, but without thinking, he’d applied a layer over his entire chin. What would soon become a panic inducing issue in a short sum of ten minutes hadn’t occurred to him quite yet.

As the timer on his phone went off, he began slowly peeling the mask off, starting at his forehead before he froze, realizing more of his face was covered than usual. He brushed it off, continuing to peel before he noticed that not only was the thin, purple layer coming off, but multiple specks of hair were attached as well. Oh fuck, he thought to himself, unsure of how to proceed. No, he couldn’t just rip it off. He was attached to his facial hair. It made his baby face look mature and manly. No, of course it didn’t occur to him to just add water, simply wiping it away. There was only one option, and that was to waltz into the living room with his bright purple face and to wake you up, puppy dog eyes pleading for you to help him with his predicament.

You stirred away as you felt a hand shake your shoulder, your eyes widening as you sat up with a confused expression.

“Well, hello there,” you croaked out, your voice laced with gravel from exhaustion. He looked at you with embarrassment laced over his face, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Help, please. I…” he trailed off, gesturing his hands towards his face. “I just need it off,” he grumbled lowly, his fingertips holding the piece holding his facial hair tenderly, ensuring he didn’t rip anything else off.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud giggle, amused by the man standing in front of you. You grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom. You both sat on the ledge of the tub as you tenderly wiped his face clean with a warm washcloth, his reddened cheeks from both the mask being on too long and the embarrassment becoming more apparent by the second.

“Facial hair is saved,” you said triumphantly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I do have to ask though, why the sudden liking to all of this? And why not just.. tell me?” you hummed curiously, shaking your head.

“I just.. I don’t know. I think I didn’t want to admit I was wrong or that I was spending so much money on such worthless stuff. It started out so small and then became so big, I just couldn’t,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I am really sorry for keeping it from you,” he hummed before he went into a further explanation, explaining the way it made him feel.

You let out a sigh of relief along with a content giggle, shaking your head. “I knew something was up, but I wasn’t sure what,” you said, cocking an eyebrow as you placed a hand on his knee, your cheeks now warming up.

“What, did you think I was getting all fancy schmancy for another girl?” he teased, bumping his elbow against your shoulder. Your eyes widened as your mouth opened and closed as you went to say something, his expression dropping into something more serious.

“Oh my god, Y/N, honey, no, I’d never,” he said, placing his warm hand on your exposed shoulder. “Baby, no,” he chuckled, happy he could reassure you but somewhat upset that you had to sit through that alone. “No, I love you very much, I promise you, there is no other woman... just, your silly grumpy man being too embarrassed to admit I like girly things,” he teased, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your lips. The kiss was all you needed for electrical sparks to be sent through your body, your brain buzzing as the anxious thoughts began to disappear.

For the rest of the night, Mike walked you through his entire routine, both for fun and for transparency. You two joked back and forth, you occasionally poking at him, telling him he should become an influencer. Afterwards, you both did a face mask together, this time ensuring the product did not cover his chin.

Yes, you and Mike most definitely had your own things to work on, but at the end of the day, you were happiest with him. Your heart felt warm. He had finally found a way to take care of himself, a way to feel more content in his own skin, and even though he had an odd way of going about it, you were pleased, happy he was also finally willing to share this with you. From now on, Mike would wait for his routine in the mornings until you woke up, instead crawling into bed and cradling you in his arms, thinking about how lucky he was to have such a sweet, loving, and accepting partner like you to share his life with, even if it was just skincare and Vaseline kisses.