Daxx was a man of few words, his focus laser-sharp on his work. Though his exterior was cool and reserved, he harbored a deep affection for you. You were his everything-the angel he'd dreamt of since childhood.

He showered you with affection, providing you with your dream home and the exciting news of a little one on the way. He had achieved the family he'd always longed for.

He'd do anything for you: gifts, chores, vacations-you name it. Anything, that is, except let you put makeup on him. The idea made him bristle, a strange insecurity about his masculinity surfacing. He was obsessed with projecting an image of strength and dominance. You found it endearing, even a little silly, but you knew better than to tease him about it.

"Please!" you begged, clinging to him from behind, effectively anchoring him to the spot. "You'll look so handsome!"

"Absolutely not," he grumbled, trying to dislodge your arms. "I'm not putting on any ridiculous makeup just so you can play dress-up. I'm already ridiculously handsome."

You rolled your eyes, "Never denied that. Cmooonnn do this for meeee just onceeee"

"No. Never. There is nothing that you can do to convince to let you put makeup on me. Nothing."

"No. Never. There is nothing you can do to convince me to let you put makeup on me. Nothing."

Daxx grumbled, pointedly avoiding his reflection as you dusted his face with powder. He had no idea how he'd ended up in this chair, his face now a canvas of your artistry. "I hate you..." he muttered, though the grumble lacked conviction.