#shave fic

[its-all-papaya]

close enough!

close enough is shave fic

haven't touched her in aaaaages because of dad lando and i'm not sure when i'll re-invest. i need to go watch that video from the fall where that one interviewer goes "oscar's smooth like a baby" or w/e and lando immediately goes HE SHAVES. bc they did that for this fic specifically.

now that i've written smut fr, though, it does make me more confident in my ability to write shave fic, because i think the appeal of the whole thing is kind of that oscar being close enough to lando's face to shave it (and also the soft dom energy of performing someone's personal care for them) is like. sexy. and would turn lando on. and oscar def notices the first or second time he does it but doesn't say anything, but then once lando shows up to break padel with his goatee back, and oscar realizes it's because lando has only been shaving when oscar does it for him.......... that emboldens him.

oscar murmuring "tell me if you want me to stop" as he leans over to suck lando off is like 75% of the inspo for shave fic i'm ngl. it's gonna be 'undernegotiated' on ao3. it's gonna be 'light dom/sub' on ao3. it's so tasty TO ME (and my fictional lando) to imagine oscar deciding when lando will have facial hair or not.

anyway! shave fic!

[its-all-papaya]

don’t ask whose fault, ask whose FIC

i need to weigh in on the tags of your recent reblog, let me yap for a second…

lando would for sure let oscar shave him, but he’d be soooo annoying about it forever first. like one of the two of them would make a joke about it (like lando joking he needs to change something up, like shave the goatee, or something, except he’s been saying that for at least two straight races and eventually oscar’s like “bro, if you won’t commit or shut up, i’ll do it myself”)…. except lando like… cannot stop thinking about it…. but he can’t TELL oscar that… so just brings it up continually always like “im JOKING” until oscar is like “no, i’m doing it, shut up.” and even then lando has to put up his annoyed front bc like. it’s WEIRD to THINK ABOUT continuously, right? so he complains and grumbles as he washes his face and sits on the counter and calls oscar a freak about it, but osc just rolls with the punches bc he knows lando well enough to know what’s afoot. and then oscar gets his hand on lando’s jaw and like……….yeah. yEAH. lando goes super quiet and eyes kind of glazed-over-y while oscar just like. handles him.

is this just more of my casual-sub-lando adjacent propaganda?? honestly yeah.

NO BECAUSE YOURE SO RIGHT I CAN PICTURE THE ENTIRE THING SO EASILY OMG . (also the casual-sub-lando propaganda is so accurate ..................) and then when his hair grows back oscar would notice the way lando keeps scratching his chin and grumbling about it so he just goes "aight time to shave" and goes in the bathroom. ofc lando doesn't follow because it must have been a weird one-time thing but then oscar just looks out of the bathroom like ? are you coming buddy ? and lando just follows him quietly and watches as oscar shaves himself first, then he lets him shave him again. and it becomes a sort of calming ritual every race week . and when they're apart lando just doesn't shave . i think i'm going insane ? soph this is your fault but also kind of mine but ..................

[vavoom-sorted-art]

how do we turn on the light? - Cover Art Contest Entry

My dear friend @moonyinpisces is hosting a cover art contest for her awesome fic how do we turn on the light? and here's my entry! Enjoy!

You don't see a lot of colored art from me, but it's fun to play around with colors and lighting once in a while. and it was only fitting to "turn on the light" for this one, eh?

(and for the sake of the lord, click on the image to see it in better quality oof)

[aurorawritestoescape]

Javier Peña x f!reader || 440 words

Summary: you shave Javi | Tw: 18+ mdni, smut

@iamasaddie @milla-frenchy this is all your fault, my loves😌

*****

You peek into the bathroom and find Javi shaving. He doesn’t notice you, fully concentrated on lathering his jaw, eyes fixed on the reflection, so you use this moment to watch him. The way he’s gliding the foamy brush over his cheeks and chin mesmerizes you. He’s devastatingly handsome even with his face coated in soap.

When Javi picks up a razor, you wake up from the trance and exclaim,

“Can I?”

Javi jerks and curses and you immediately regret the way you’ve revealed yourself.

“Baby, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” You pad closer to him with an apologetic smile and his gaze slides up and down your body, covered only by his white linen shirt. His face softens.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning,” you purr. “Can I help?”

“Want to shave me?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.

You nod and the man’s gaze darkens.

***

That’s how you end up straddling Javi while he’s sitting on a stool by the sink.

He has convinced you that it’s the best way to do the task, with you being shorter, the position gives you the best access to his face.

You’re chewing on your lower lip in concentration, brows furrowed, carefully running the razor over his sharp jaw, taking the foam off his golden skin. You’re barely breathing, afraid to cut him, to hurt him, to do a poor job.

You glance up at his eyes and find them dark and completely focused on your face.

Javi gives you a wink and you smile at him.

“Don’t stare,” you whisper.

“Can’t help it.”

You shake your head still smiling and slightly turn to rinse the razor in the sink.

When you return to work, Javi’s warm hands, splayed on your naked asscheeks, squeeze your soft flesh and your breath hitches.

“Javi,” you whine and it only seems to entice the man. It gets impossible to keep your hand from trembling, when he bucks his hips and buries his cock deeper into your weeping pussy, his stiffness deliciously massages your walls, the tip gently kisses your cervix.

A needy moan flies from your open mouth, Javi’s low grunt soon follows it.

“Keep going, baby. Still have my left cheek to do.”

You rest the hand with the razor on the man’s broad shoulder to take a moment to calm down. But who are you kidding? There’s no way you can continue, with your pussy crying around his big cock, staining his gray sweatpants.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to finish it yourself,” you mumble, when your self-control crumbles. The razor flies into the sink and you lift your hips, before sinking back on Javi’s throbbing cock.

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

[fudgecake-charlie]

Because me and @briefle are insane we've both written short fics in the disco hermits universe! Here are some rough drawings of a moment from each of them.

LINK TO BRIE'S AMAZING FIC in which Etho gets a surprise confrontation in the Whirling-in-rags

LINK TO MY SILLY FIC in which Etho does a very dumb thing about his hair in the middle of the night

for the people who read my fic i have a very stupid addendum for you that is. practically canon

[miabbh]

Princess Skin 💈

husband!Baekhyun x reader

Synopsis: that your husband is a starved man when the matter is you, nothing new; sometimes, though, you need to remind him that you have a princess skin and it's sensitive & he needs to shave. it's okay to dely his morning banquet, you try to tell him; it actually is, he conforms, you're there to help.

Genre: playfull banter, slice of life, quite ⚠⚠ explicit smut ⚠⚠ (oral sex–fem!receiving) | ~2,5k words

A low, hoarse sigh escapes Baekhyun's lips, resonating from deep within his chest, filling the quiet intimacy of the bathroom. The sound lingers, blending into the golden warmth of the wall lights as you gently tilt his head to the side. 

He obeys without hesitation, his eyes fluttering shut, his hands resting firmly on your thighs. His grip is steady, grounding, hungry, fingers curling slightly over the hem of your oversized T-shirt—the one he used to wear but now lives permanently on your side of the wardrobe and makes a familiar sense of pride burn on his chest.

With careful precision, you trace the line of his jaw with the razor, your movement slow and deliberate as the white layer disappears to give way to his beautiful skin tone. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the faint scratch of stubble yields easily to the blade in a dry sound.

You focus, the rhythm of the task drawing you in so you don't cut him. Or at least, you try. Maybe, you do focus—on the closeness of his body, his breath soft against your wrist, the way the tips of his fingers play with your skin, that threatens to distract you.

You take the blade to the basin full of water on your left, leaving the foam and the so short dark hairs floating in it. You can feel his eyes on you, following each movement with his gaze as your breasts gently sway beneath the fabric. The height difference is not significant, even with you sitting on the counter, but your gaze is slightly above his as you side eye him, arched eyebrow. 

Those dark brown chocolate eyes melt slowly as a smirk grows on his lips, the fire beneath them burning slow, low and that oh so well pretended good behavior of his.

It had all started that morning, not long before this moment, when you were stirred awake by the faint, bristling sensation of his stubble against your neck. The warmth of him pressed against your back was the first thing you registered—the solid weight of his chest rising and falling in the slightly accelerated rhythm you've learned to know too well its meaning. Half-asleep, you instinctively raised a hand to his face, your fingers brushing over the rough texture of his unshaven jaw hidden in the tangle of your hair.

A warm kiss pressed against your neck, right where the steady pulse of blood thrummed beneath your skin. His lips lingered, soft yet deliberate, coaxing your breath to hitch as the warmth of his mouth sent a gentle shiver cascading down your spine.

The sheets rustled as he shifted beside you before the soft moan leave your lips fully, the faint weight of them pulling away leaving you more exposed to the cool morning air.

You stirred, your body half-claimed by sleep, yet acutely aware of him. His hand slid along your thigh, the touch slow and unhurried, a silent request you couldn't deny. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he repositioned himself between your thighs, his movements purposeful but tender. Fingers brushed against the fabric of your shirt, the hem riding higher with every inch he claimed until his right hand cupped your breast, squeezing it with the whole palm.

Your back arched against the touch as you looked for a more comfortable position, already feeling a pleasant tingling in your stomach, your breathing quickening in anticipation, too drowned to him, to his touch, to all the things you knew he was caplable of doing and still surprised you every single time.

Your mind, intoxicated by expectation and not fully awakened sleep, took a while to register the muffled words coming from under the sheets. Before you could think to ask, the pressure from your panties on your hip bone as he pulled them to the side made you open your close your eyes again.

The tips of his fingers moved ever so slightly over your already wet clit, a gasp getting stuck in your throat. You could already imagine it—his face focused, his eyes wide and bright as he licked his soft pink lips, preparing to devour a feast. And oh my- you loved seeing him so hopelessly starved of you first thing in the morning.

You fought the instinct to close your legs when his index and middle finger slid between yours wet folds, caught by his teasing. Although, the soft satisfied sound that left your lips quickly turned into one of frustration, his fingers no longer touching you, the stubborn elastic of your panties covering your clit again.

The soft light from the room illuminated his face as you lifted the sheets, peeking at him. A wave of heat burned your cheeks as you caught him with both fingers on his mouth, lingering just against the tip of his tongue as he looked up at you.

Any complaint has left your being. You left him be, laying back down, his image stuck in the back of your mind.

But then you felt it—the rough scrape of his stubble, this time against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The contrast was exquisite, a deliberate tease that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Baby…" you murmured, blindly grabbing his hair as a shiver runned down your spine on a not-so-satisfying feeling.

He didn't seem to listen, his touch unrelenting yet gentle, his hands steady as they coaxed your legs further apart as his lips met your warmth, sucking it gently. A soft, low hum came from him, a sound that vibrated against your skin, reverberating through you.

You held back a melodic ah as the kisses and hickeys spread your leaking wetness, his teeth too teasing you, parted only enough to let the warm breaths of air chill you a little more.

You knew he had lost the patience to wait when both hands grabbed you, one by your thigh and the other by the curve of your butt, holding your panties with the thumb right before his tongue sinfuly make its way from your entrance up to the clit.

The sensation hand you shivering, the brown strands intertwined tightly in your fingers. But then, a burning sensation took over.

"Baek..." a slight frown wrinkle your forehead as you spoke. "You're scratching me."

He paused for a moment, just long enough to let the anticipation build, his warm breath fanning over your exposed skin. 

"You’re really making me stop to go shave?" he murmured from beneath the sheets, the rough edge of his stubble grazing your inner thigh again as be leaned on the elbows.

You tilted your head back against the pillow, your voice barely steady as you tried to pull your leg away.

"You already know my opinion on that."

You could feel him smirking against your skin, pressing another lingering kiss just above your knee. 

"If I even grow a beard someday, will you keep me away from you sweet pussy for at least three weeks 'til the beard no longer sting?" he teased, his hands sliding further up your leg, his touch igniting sparks which were all concentrated between your legs.

You tried to form a witty reply, the warmth of his breath and the deliberate hoarse words against your bare skin making it impossible to think clearly for a few seconds.

"Most likely." you managed to say, the mental image of a Baekhyun with a beard being difficult to conceive.

Baekhyun let go of your thighs, the warm sigh—more like a laugh—that left his mouth got you weak, and for a moment you almost pulled him back to you.

Reappearing from under the sheets scratching his chin, he looked at you. His lips found their way to yours, his whole body weighing you down against the mattress.

You could feel your taste on him, the growing hardness in his pyjama's pants pressing against you.

"Wanna help me?" he whispered, his voice low, thick with that sweet, convincing manipulation he wielded so well. His gaze moved down from your eyes to your lips, down to your neck—his thumb running through your clavicles. "Can't have my breakfast getting cold while waiting for me…"

And that is how you ended up here—perched on the counter, your legs parted to frame him as he stands between them. His gaze follows your every movement, dark and unwavering, as you dip the razor into the basin and wipe it clean on the towel. 

The room is quiet save for the faint sound of water droplets and the soft scrape of metal as you carefully slid the blade down the line of his throat. His pulse steady, though the faint rise and fall of his chest betrays a quiet anticipation.

His adam's apple shifts, slow and deliberate, as he swallows under your careful touch.

You pause for a moment, your thumb brushing over the smooth skin you’d left in the razor's wake. His eyes flick up to meet yours, holding you there with a look that is equal parts trust and something deeper—something raw, burning hot and leaving you nervous.

The corner of his mouth tug upward in a slow, lazy smile. 

"You like this, don’t you?" he teases, his voice soft, playful.

"You seem to be enjoying it more than me." you murmur, and his hands tighten ever so slightly on your thighs, moving further.

You roll your eyes, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrays your pretended annoyance. Carefully, you tilt his chin higher, exposing more of his neck, your fingers brushing against the sharp edge of his jaw. The moment is intoxicating, the intimacy—his surrender, your sense control, the quiet tension crackling between you like static electricity.

You can feel the tiny, slippery puddle forming in the marble under you, your panties—left somewhere you'll probably only find out after you get back from work— no longer being a protective barrier.

"You know…." he says, his voice low and gravelly. "...we could make of this a routine; I let my beard grow a little more than usual, you get all upset and bossy because I scratch your princess skin, and you get to see my face up this close while I-" he slides his thumb over your wetness, making you pull the blade away. A smirk grows on his face. "-til her royal highness authorize the presence of my mouth between her legs again. Huh? What do you say? Good deal?"

You sigh, spreading your legs slightly more. You try to disguise it, wiping the razor clean again, but the gaze is mischief enough for you to know you got caught.

It's not like he's in a place to speak: you could literally see the entire outline of his dick against the pants, his shoulders tense in an anticipation that you know too well. He's as needy as you, but his patience begins to inhibit itself—something you grow used to for good and for bad since he returned from the military.

"Stay still. I'm not done yet." Your eyes flicked back up to his, locking onto the dark intensity there.

A single line of shaving cream remained, stretching from his chin to the base of his neck, and you couldn't help but let your lips curl into a faint, teasing smile.

"My only intention is not to get all scratched up." you add, your voice light with a hint of mischief. 

His smirk was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly confident. His falsely shy fingers slide into your folds with a mix of restraint and indulgence that, he knows, leaves you aching for more. Looking into your eyes, he slowly curls them up against your sensitive walls.

"I think we both know you don't mind a little scratch." he says, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

You shift on the counter, your buttock slipping on the cold marble due to that messy puddle you forgot about. Baekhyun grabs your hip with the free hand, steadying you in place.

"Eager, baby?" he teases.

You narrow your eyes at him, looking down at his left hand under your shirt. With a silently warning—to which he responds with a firmer grip the stillness of his fingers and hiding the lower lip, stretching the chin skin—you take the razor's next glide, slow and steady along the smooth curve of his chin.

"Keep talking and I might 'accidentally' nick you." you warn him, though the way your thumb lightly brushes him betrays the care you are taking, trying not to squeeze his fingers, sinking them deeper.

His Adam's apple bobbed again as he swallowed, the movement deliberate.

"I'm not worried." he replies as the blade leaves his skin as you make him tilt the head back again to light, checking your work. His tone a mix of trust and something more playful. "You'd never risk ruining your masterpiece."

You snort softly, dipping the razor back into the water and wiping it clean on the towel. 

"Such confidence in me." you mutter, shaking your head, trying to deny the warmth curling low in your stomach at the way his gaze hadn't left you for a second. Only the grip of his on you is keeping you from moving by now.

He leans in slightly, just enough for the edge of his stubble to graze your wrist as you adjust his chin again. 

"Confidence, or just faith in you?" his voice a low rumble seems to vibrate through the small space between you. He digs his fingers into you, his thumb finding the pressure point just above your clit and moving in small circles. "You're my beloved wife, aren't you? So committed to keeping me in line... or at least keeping me smooth."

You pause, the razor held just above his skin, your breath catching as you close your eyes. For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you thick and warm.

"Baek..." His nickname falls from your lips in a barely audible whisper, the sound trembling in the quiet space. Your eyes flicker upward, struggling to meet his intense gaze as you steel yourself. "Lemme finish this and I'm all yours."

Baekhyun smirks, the curve of his lips both wicked and knowing. He shifts slightly, the smallest movement sending his thumb grazing over your clit—just enough to steal your breath and make you falter. Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, leaving a warmth that lingers long after his touch is gone.

"Go ahead." he murmurs, his tone laced with amusement.

And then, with deliberate care, you resume your work, the corner of your lips lifting ever so slightly.

"Not an easy job, to keep you smooth." you put down the blade, holding up the towel to clean his skin of any remaining cream and opening the moisturizing cream bottle. You apply a gentle layer of it on his skin, proud of your job, but it's quickly forgotten. "And it's probably over now…"

He grins.

"Of course it is." he leans against you again, his lips moving against yours as your hips are grabbed against his with a fast movement, taking you away from the counter. Your legs instinctively intertwine around his hips, you hands finding home on the back of his neck and hair.

The sensation is maddening, his lips finding their way downward, planting feather-light kisses along the curve of your neck, each one slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth and want in their wake.

"Let me have my sweet treat now." he murmurs before making his way to the bed, sinking you into the pillows and crumpled sheets.

His body towers over yours, his broad shoulders pressing on your thighs open. His lips meet your stomach in a slow pace, his tongue pressing against your skin before sinking into your pussy again.

You glance down, your breath hitching as your eyes meet his—hungry, desperate, and unwavering. His starved gaze locks onto yours, the raw intensity in his expression sending a wave of heat coursing through your body.

The sounds of his tongue and lips working against you fill the room, unrestrained and unapologetic, echoing through the space with an intimacy that makes you see stars for a moment.

A moan escapes your lips, drawn out by the relentless rhythm of his movements. The sound seems to affect him too, and he answers with a low groan of his own, muffled against you as his hips press into the mattress beneath him. The sheets rustle under his weight, his movements restless, insatiable.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as his name falls from your lips in a breathless cry. He doesn't stop, doesn't falter; if anything, your touch spurs him further, his focus entirely on you, on this, on the unspoken connection binding you together, and on the way he seems go never get enough of you.

His hands roam over your skin, your thighs, your hips, your waist. His touch is almost frantic, fingers digging in as though he's anchoring himself, or perhaps losing control altogether.

You catch the faint glimmer of tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust, his face flushed and utterly consumed by the moment. And oh... you're thankful you're also a pillow princess.

[tumblerislovetumblerislife]

cloud + star au palasaki, inspired by @jube-art's stunning sun + moon au payneland art, with the background's colour scheme shamelessly stolen from @mellxncollie's amazing colour palettes!

the first is their standard embodiments; the second is a stormy crystal and niko's official look :)

Summary:

“So, what do you do around here?” Niko asked, when all the introductions had been handled, and she and the cloud goddess – Crystal, a pretty name for a pretty goddess – stood just within sight of Edwin and his sun god suitor. After all, being chosen as a chaperone for this celestial courting was the highest honor imaginable – unless you were the moon god’s best, and maybe only, friend. Or not anymore, by the look of Charles’ easy smile and the loosening line of Edwin’s shoulders, visible even through the veil. Niko sure hoped so. It would be nice for Edwin to get a friend out of this union, at the very least. She hoped for more, but then, she’d always been a romantic.

Or: The star and cloud goddesses must chaperone the courting sun and moon gods. However shall they pass the time?

@palasakiweek day 5: free day

[samstree]

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Anakin feels the razor trail down his pulse point, trimming away the day-old stubble, Obi-Wan’s steady breath ghosting over his skin.

“I know.”

Oh, no. His voice is trembling.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s eyes are very concerned, and so so close.

“You should tell your heart. It’s gone rather fast,” Obi-Wan says softly, placing a soothing hand on Anakin’s bandaged shoulder. “There—even faster now. You have nothing to fear, Anakin. I know how to shave you.”

The razor returns, cold against Anakin’s flushed skin.

“No, not fearing.” His heart hammers loudly. “Not at all.”

[its-all-papaya]

if ur still doing the chores thing pls do ☑️ week two to-do list and yap about the close enough wip <3

first week of September has been planned out tyvm 🫡

↠ please make me do my chores

close enough is the wip that this ask spawned, also affectionately known as "shave fic." basically charlie reblogged something after lando shaved for belgium (i think?) and posed the very, very important question: would lando let oscar shave his face for him. you can read the ask i sent her, but i had pretty strong feelings on that topic. and then i went to her pm's and yelled some more, and eventually i was like i NEEEEEd to write this in a way that is so visceral, and now it's like 1.5k of stuff.

it's all pretty mapped out in that exchange between us and i haven't deviated a ton from that literal progression of events so far, but yeah! basically oscar shaves lando's face for Luck and because lando has been Annoying about it, then does it again for Reasons, then lando... gets rlly attached to that? and it's a Thing for them? it fits very nicely in that soft submission category i was talking about yesterday in the kink ask, so there's like a pretty good chance it ends up a little smutty near the end.

i don't have a ton to say about this one since it was all spelled out nicely for me from the get go, so i'll leave you with a snippet instead:

At any rate, it is in Barcelona where Oscar finally bites. They’re leaving the paddock together post-race. The late-evening heat is still oppressive, sticking their shirts to their backs as they wander towards the car park. Lando drags the knuckle of his first finger under his own jaw, collecting sweat, and says, “I think I might have to shave it.” Oscar’s been just vaguely nodding along to most of what Lando’s been saying since they left hospitality, but he looks up sharply at that. When Lando glances over out of the side of his vision, Oscar’s face is deadpan, unimpressed. And then. And then. “Shut up about it, mate, or I’ll do it myself.”

ty anon 🫂

[preyinstincts88]

He tilts my head and runs the razor down my jaw, the blade running so smooth I barely feel it. Fingers slipping along my chin, bending me this way and that, his larger frame behind me in the mirror. Looking at my face; but not looking at me. I say I can shave myself, I say I barely need to shave at all, and he gives me that look, hand tightening ever so slightly. I close my mouth. The glide continues down my neck. He wipes down my face, turning me with a firm twist to inspect his work.

I want to run my hands along his jaw as he does mine, feeling the texture of his stubble, running my fingers up into his hair. But he hasn't told me to move yet. That had been his only rule as he brought me into the bathroom, stay still, and I had, hadn't I?

I barely get my hand half way in the air before the hand on my face is tilting me up firmly, another hand closing around my wrist. Stay still, that's all you had to do. I feel him press me backward until the cool tile of the wall jars the skin on my back. His hands, warm, press firm on the column of my throat. You ask me to show you how to do things, like a real man, but you can't listen to instructions hm?

I wonder whether I can speak now, or if that is one of those questions with no right answer. But before I can even try to reply he continues. Did you even listen, after I took all this time to show you how to shave, or did you just feel my hand on your face and turn into a brain-dead slut on instinct?

Now that I can't respond to, or maybe the whine I let out was a response given the way he smiled. A smile that matches everything about him, cutting, sharp and perfect. He kisses me, his scruff sharp against my fresh sensitive skin, a shaky breath and a bob of my throat beneath his palm. His body, angular, broad, perfect, against my own, which is changing slowly too.

Once the comparison made me feel small, but now, every time we kiss I know my jaw is sharper, one day I'll be strong enough to pin him too, push him to the tile, my beard will scratch against his sensitive inner thighs and he will shiver the way I do.

[vicsbasement]

CHARLES IS JEALOUS OF TETO ahahahaha

Oh my God, yeah, this one is just fun because I intend to show Charles as a little bit of a selfish brat in a sense. Like, they sort of dislike each other, Carlos is oblivious, but Roberto antagonizes him constantly- leaving things in his garage that aren't his, talking loudly in Spanish around him knowing he can't understand much, taking Carlos away from moments alone. These kinds of things. It's supposed to be short, but here's the first few paragraphs. Just pray that I get a strike of inspiration and manage to finish it before Carlos leaves for Williams. Charles was used to noise.

Formula 1 was a noisy sport, the hustle and bustle of the paddock, the garage, the meetings with media—it was all very overwhelming.

Still, he’d gotten used to it quickly, even embraced it. It was all a part of his dream, he was more than willing to make sacrifices. And sacrificing his comfort was one of the things he was willing to do. He'd wake up early when he was needed to, he'd given up foods he loved so he could be the perfect weight to fit in the car, he'd even ignored health issues just so he could drive a few more laps.

But he never thought he’d grown so accustomed to the noise and yet a voice, a single voice, a person’s voice would become so grating. It got on his nerves; it just made him mad. And he wasn’t easily overstimulated, but the whole combination, the voice, the constant presence of this person around basically everywhere they were supposed to share, the lack of privacy and calm… it drove him nuts.

And it wasn’t even Carlos’ fault. This was his friend. Charles had no right to get so on edge.

But Roberto Merhi was grating on his nerves.

[kierancaz]

Grim and Yuu are a bonded pair. Must be adopted together. Do not separate.

[frogsinflannel]

fic: "I Never Held My Breath for Quite This Long"

T | 9-1-1: eddie POV, bucktommy | ~1900 words

a follow-up, finished version of the last snippet I posted

EXCERPT:

The flow of traffic is forgiving and Eddie gets there sooner than he’d expected.  He goes up to the door and pauses for a moment before he lets himself in.  It would be polite to knock, right?  Just in case.  If he’s disturbing something.  But he clearly hadn’t hung up the phone either, so would it be weirder if he knocked?  Would it seem like he was expecting them to be—?  He fidgets, shifting foot to foot in front of the door.  He's uncomfortable and not willing to articulate why.  It takes a second, but then he shakes himself out of it.  It’s Buck.  It’s just Buck.  He knows Eddie was on the way.

So he lets himself in.

“Hey,” he calls out, and his voice sounds so loud, Jesus, but he tries to ignore it.  “Guys.  I’m here.”

“Yeah, just finishing up,” Tommy calls back.  He sounds unbothered, his voice light and friendly.  So he hadn’t interrupted anything then.  Eddie looks around and sees the first floor bathroom door open.  He walks over and looks in.

His breath catches.

Buck is perched on the edge of the sink, with Tommy standing between the long, long stretch of his legs.  And they’re… they’re shaving.  Tommy is helping Buck shave.  His pale cheeks are covered with silky white foam and Tommy has a firm grip on his chin, tilting his head for a better angle.

“Hey Eddie,” Tommy says, without looking away from Buck.  He has a safety razor with a heavy silver handle gripped tight in one hand, and he draws it in a line, slow and gentle, down the side of Buck’s face.  There is a gap now, in the foam, a line of smooth skin bracketed by two planes of white.  “We’ll be done soon, just finishing up with Evan now.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sure, man.  I can wait.”  He watches as Tommy slides the razor down in another stroke.  It’s an easy practiced movement.  Graceful.  He seems so sure of himself, so comfortable being in control.  “I’m not too early, am I?”

The question was addressed to Buck, but it’s Tommy who answers.  “Not too early.  We told you to come over, right?”  He tilts Buck’s head again.  Shaves another even line through the foam.  “And it’s not like we mind the company, hmm?”

Buck makes a soft noise of agreement.  He doesn’t open his eyes.  It’s like he doesn’t know Eddie’s there at all.

---

read at ao3

[hey-heigo]

just think itd be funny if they met irl

[frankiebirds]

hey do you ever think that the reason reid knocks "shave and a haircut" on elle's door is because post-fisher king elle gets nervous when someone knocks on her door because she doesn't know who it is, so reid (or even the whole team) start knocking a pattern. do you ever think about elle checking the peephole anyway. i do.

[lqtraintracks]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Words: 200 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Shaving, Facial Shaving, Shaving Kink, Praise Kink, Hand Kink, Size Kink, Hair Kink, Body Worship, Sensory Deprivation, Blindfolds, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs Summary: Draco Malfoy's a barber. Harry goes for a shave. He gets that and more. A/N: Written for @maesterchill whose prompts slayed me! <3