𝐁𝐁𝐉 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘, ᵈᵈ ᵒˢᵃᵐᵃ

ෆ david hates wash days, and uses them as an excuse to be overly dramatic, although, he does enjoy the results

"We can't do this another time?" David groaned as you held his hand, pulling him to your bedroom.

"No, we both know, if it doesn't happen today, you'll continue walking around with those dirty ass twists, until ya next show," you said.

"Who said I had dirty hair?"

"When was the last time you washed it? exactly," you said, continuing to the large bathroom.

As he sat on the edge of the bathtub, you went to grab a comb, careful to take down the usual two-strand twist you'd given him. He sighed loudly, comfortably tracing his fingers against your thigh.

"Are you taking your shirt off?" you asked, turning to reach for the shampoo and conditioner.

"Why you trying to get me naked?" He asked mischievously.

"Boy, you know damn well-" Turning back to face him, he already had his shirt off, his Calvin Klein underwear peaking from the loose sweatpants.

You burst out laughing, caught off guard, but he kept the poker face. Going to the shower, you made sure the water was at the perfect temperature, before turning on the handle.

"What you going on about?"

"Come on," you said.

"Y/n-

"Either I do it, or you can take ya ass to a stylist, and you can complain that they scrubbed too hard, to somebody else, if not, then come on," you ordered, he dropped his head in defeat, finally complying.

The water hardly touched him when he gasped dramatically, flailing around like a fish out of water.

"Bro you deadass gone drown me," he said, as you tried your hardest to hold in your laugh.

"Close ya eyes then," you snickered.

"I don't find shit funny," he whined.

"Sorry baby, come on, it won't take long," you said, pouring out the shampoo.

That statement alone was a lie; with David's theatrical behavior, it took you nearly an hour and a half, before you could get to doing his hair.

"Here, dry your hair some," you handed him the satin towel. Instead, he mushed her face into it, dragging it around to dry his eyes.

"You're such a big baby," you laughed, taking the towel, and drying his hair a little.

"That was hell," he sighed, slipping back into his shirt, following behind as you grabbed the products.

"What you doing?" you asked, as he sat in front of your vanity.

"Sitting to get my-

"No indeed, I'm not a hairstylist, you're sitting ya ass on the floor," you said, grabbing a few throw pillows.

"But-

"No buts, my back is not finna be hurting because of you, you fall asleep every time"

"I don't even do that, what is you talking about?"

"Then you won't mind sitting right here," you pointed. Giving up, he sat comfortably, wrapping one of his arms around your legs.

"Thank you for doing this, ma," he said, laying his head on your lap, as you raked the product through.

"It's no problem," you smiled. Within a few minutes, you could hear his shallow breathing, as he slept. He kept his arm in place, he enjoyed being near you.

You held back the urge to coo, finishing the style, the signature two-strand twists, for a beautiful twist out. Shaking him awake, he stretched, walking to the mirror. You followed, plugging up the defuser. Standing in front of him, you went on to dry his hair, fluffing it as you moved around.

"You better wrap your hair," you told him, pointing, as he smirked, feeling himself.

"Whatever you say, I look good, don't I?" He asked.

"Duh, of course, thanks to me"

"Good enough to eat?" He asked, placing your hand under his shirt.

"Boy bye," you laughed.

"Let me at least pay for your time," he said, licking his lips. You stood there for a moment, contemplating.

"Five minutes," you said, as he nodded.

"That's all I need baby girl," he said, picking you up. You knew for sure, that what was coming your way would be much longer than five minutes, but you didn't care, you'd enjoy every moment.