#but both of them have shampoo ad hair

[luveline]

hi!!! i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's injured during a case and reader show up at the hospital because she's his emergency contact but the team is really confused wondering who's this stranger fussing over spencer. hope you like it, love you!

thank you for requesting honey!! love you<3 fem!reader

“Close your eyes,” you command, voice all blown up and grand, already smiling. “Close your eyes, Spencer.” 

“No.” He squints groggily. “What are you doing?” 

“Close your eyes.” 

“No, Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks. 

You shake your spray bottle at him. He sighs a long-suffering sigh and finally admits defeat, his tired eyes shuttering closed all too easily. You rest your knee on the side of his bed and hear the metal squeaking at your added weight, your hand gentle as you cover his forehead. “You have greasy hair,” you say sympathetically. “This is gonna feel much nicer.” 

You blast him with dry shampoo, his brown hair turning white with powder. You drop the can in his lap and set about rubbing the powder into his hair until the grease is soaked up, and his hair feels less miserably lank. 

“When are they gonna let you shower again?” you ask quietly. 

You’re still touching his hair. More for him than you, you hope he feels comforted, but mostly you just wanna affirm to yourself that he’s all in one bruised piece. Your heart still aches as much as it did when you got the phone call in the first place —Spencer Reid’s next of kin? 

You suppose that’s you. 

“I don’t know.” 

You take his hair back into his current parting. “Well, let’s hope it’s soon. How are you liking the sponge baths? Are they awful?” 

“Humiliating.” 

Just outside of Spencer’s hospital room, Hotch and JJ stand together with a bag of essentials. They’d drawn to a sudden stop when they realised Spencer had company. “Who is that?” she asks. 

Hotch, used to knowing everything, frowns very deeply. He doesn’t know who you are, but from the way you’re touching Spencer’s hair and face, he should. 

JJ sounds a little put out. “She doesn’t work here.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Hotch says. His frown lightens as you laugh and scratch Spencer’s hair back behind his ears. 

“Is it unkind of me to think he didn’t have any friends?” JJ asks. 

Hotch knows Spencer has friends. He’s summoned Spencer from chess games and fan clubs, picking him up occasionally on the way to the office on cafe sidewalks as he waved goodbye to a glasses-wearing bibliophile, often in coats too big for them or with hair in need of a trim. Spencer attracts the unconventional because he, as anybody in this line of work tends to be, is inordinary. So JJ probably is being unkind, but Hotch knows what she means. 

You look completely regular. You settle on one thigh on his bed while the other keeps you up and put your hand on his chest, chatting breezy words they can’t hear through the glass.

Spencer curls into you slowly. 

“You’ll be home soon,” you say, rubbing his shoulder, “don’t worry.” 

Hotch’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. He and JJ excuse themselves for coffee before they’re spotted, and when they return, you’re gone. “Spence, who was that girl?” JJ asks. Hotch notes the slightest line of jealousy tugging under her curiosity. 

He sounds as though he could use some more pain medication, and a good night's sleep, but he’s proud as he says, “That’s my roommate. I told you about her.” 

“Ah, your roommate,” Hotch says. 

“What’s that mean?” Spencer asks. 

“Nothing, Spencer,” Hotch says, using the young man’s first name in a rare show of affection. “That’s just an irregular word for it. I haven’t heard it in a while.” 

JJ laughs. Spencer hides his face with both hands, a smudge of lip balm on his hand shining under the stark hospital fluorescents. “I’m too tired,” he complains. 

Hotch hadn’t seen you kiss him, but he can imagine how it might have happened, how you’d leaned in for a kiss on the cheek goodbye and Spencer overwhelmed himself thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just an innocuous smudge. Maybe it’s nothing at all. 

“We live together,” Spencer mumbles. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself at first, it’s D.C.” 

“And now?” Hotch asks. He knows Spencer is on good enough money to afford an apartment by himself these days, a big one. He has no dependents. 

“Didn’t seem fair… She’s nice. She’s, like, my best friend.” 

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” JJ laughs. 

Hotch isn’t sure she gets it, but he does. “Well, you can ask her to come back. We have work to do.” 

Spencer pretends he’s hesitant to pick up the phone. Your reply is an immediate beep. Hotch knows a good friend when he sees one. 

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Since MXTX said HuaLian live until the modern times, have some random headcanons:

Hua Cheng keeps being an interior decorating king so of course his and Xie Lian's home is tastefully decorated for every season and holiday. However, that doesn't stop Xie Lian from occasionally adding the fugliest item ever because he got emotionally attached to it in the store. "It was all by itself, San Lang, nobody wanted it... i know what that feels like better than anyone..." and now they're both sniffling holding an ugly styrofoam pumpkin in the middle of the fall decor isle of Ikea.

The stray animals food budget is off the charts but it's nobody's fault all strays are immediately drawn to Xie Lian and he has to feed them cause he "knows what it's like to be hungry". This does not just include cats and dogs but also rats, raccoons, several bird species and at least one coyote.

Speaking of budgets, the financial control authorities are lowkey on Hua Cheng's case because he is still stinking rich but nobody knows where the cash is coming from. They think Ghost City is the name of some shady mafia establishment and are trying to find dirt on Hua Cheng but there is literally nothing there and it eats the government alive.

Xie Lian occasionally dumpster dives in places where he knows they throw perfectly salvageable things. Hua Cheng cries every time it happens but he stands watch so the police doesn't arrest his husband for it.

In the same vein, Xie Lian insists on recycling literally everything. They have those different colored trash bins and everything, and every time Hua Cheng places an item in the wrong bin, Xie Lian gives him a disapproving look that has the ghost king crumble.

They have so many house plants. It's like a little jungle in their living room but the air is so crisp.

They keep several scrapbooks of paintings, pictures, letters etc from all the people they met to remember them even hundreds or thousands of years after those people have passed away. Even if they now have access to phones and other media for storage, they keep up the tradition of using scrapbooks and notebooks anyway.

Xie Lian is actually up to date with memes and internet slang but has embraced being a cringe Facebook grandpa and is now committed to the persona. Hua Cheng finds this hilarious (he runs a very well maintained beauty channel and a side channel on swords where Xie Lian features in every video and geeks out about their sword collection. They have a golden button and a very large following).

Hua Cheng has a 25 step skincare routine and only uses the fanciest brands of products for literally everything. Xie Lian still swears by 8 in 1 shampoo and somehow has clearer skin. Hua Cheng is both enamored and scandalized about it.

Hua Cheng is a very big fan of acryllics and lets Xie Lian pick the base color every time. Xie Lian takes this task very, very seriously and tries to coordinate it with any activities/events they have planned so Hua Cheng stays being stylish.

Hua Cheng has a portable Dyson Airwrap with him at all times because one time a kid said his hair looks like a wet dog.

Xie Lian is not allowed to get a job because every time he tried to along the decades he became a cautionary tale somehow.

[pupkashi]

oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

a/n: just something simple inspired by the poem oranges by jean little, i cried the first time i read it, hope you guys enjoy <3

wordcount: 843

masterlist

there was a lot you did for satoru.

you helped ground him, reminded him to drink water, made him food, taught him how to fold clothes and do laundry, showed him all your favorites- from places to eat and videos to play.

you reminded him what love felt like, your tender touches late at night, gentle thumb pads wiping away hot tears, soft whispers and proclamations of love.

satoru always wondered what he did for you.

he didn’t think much of the quality time he’d spend with you, he thought that was a given. he often brushed past the shower of compliments he gave you daily, figuring that was the standard. the little gestures of holding doors open, buying you flowers, remembering your favorite candle scent and buying your shampoo seemed too natural to him for it to be considered and outward act of love.

“you want some oranges?” you asked, looking at him with a smile from the kitchen.

“i could go for some oranges” he replies, getting up from the couch and joining you in the kitchen, taking an orange in his hand.

his thumbs easily tear into through the peel, gently digging his finger and separating it seamlessly from the sweet fruit, continuing his motion until the peel comes completely off, all in one piece.

you on the other hand, are putting too much force into your thumb, your finger piercing straight into the flesh of the fruit, shrieking when the juice gets on your face a bit.

“how do you always peel it so neatly? i have never once been able to” you huff, setting the now punctured Orange on a towel, washing your hands in the sink before drying them off.

“cmon sweetheart it really isn’t that hard!” satoru grins, taking your orange and easily peeling it apart neatly. “you have to do this, and then… get it there and boom!” his smile widening as he stares at you, a pout on your lips and an annoyed look in your eyes.

“yeah yeah mr. ‘I’m so good at everything’” you tease, tasking the orange from his hand and munching on a piece. “they’re sweet today” you smile, putting both your pieces and satoru’s in a bowl, heading back to the couch the two of you were on.

two weeks later the two of you are cooking dinner, reading off the recipe and realizing the dish called for an orange.

“can you hand me an orange?” you ask, turning around and thanking him as he hands it to you. you were determined to not make a mess this time, it’s just an orange after all.

but as gentle as you were, the peel wouldn’t budge, and the little force you applied proved to be just a little too much as your fingers pierced through the flesh again. you groaned in frustrations satoru already taking it from his hands, a smile on his face as he so easily peeled it.

“coulda just asked” he hums, handing you the orange, you’re glaring at him, giggling when he misses your nose.

“thank you angel boy,” you mumble, chopping the orange and adding it in.

one year later you’re sitting together in a grassy field, the wild blowing past the two of you, your laughter and love filled gazes scattered in the wind.

“i got some oranges from the market today!” you grin, taking them out of the wicker basket and showing them to your snowy haired lover. “you owe me breakfast in bed if i can finally peel this damn citrus fruit” you wager, satoru easily sitting back, a small smirk on his face as he nodded.

“I’ll do so breakfast in bed for a month if you peel it in one piece” your eyes widen at his proposition, nodding before looking at the fruit in your hands.

it’s only ten seconds later that you’re throwing yourself back, saying the fruit was obviously defective because ‘there’s no way the peel was that easy to cut through!’

satoru takes the oranges from you, peeling them perfectly and separating them into neat sections.

“I’m glad i have you to peel my citrus” you smile one night, taking the mandarin slices from his hand and humming in delight as the sweet taste hits your tastebuds.

“I’ll always peel your oranges for you” he replies, voice soft, his blue eyes seem a little lighter and his face a bit more relaxed as he looks at you.

it’s been years since then, and you never learned to peel oranges, the times you’d attempt to, juice would get everywhere and the peel coming off in chunks, the aftermath looked like an orange massacre.

satoru’s heart flutters when he sees the citrus fruit, knowing you’ll hand it to him, for him to peel for you. he knows you’ll always ask him to do this for you.

satoru is grateful everyday that you can’t peel oranges, because with the boundless things you do for him, he knows this is the one thing he’ll always be able to do for you.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Is there anything better than pussy? Yes! A really good book.

Part one

Barbie dolls: Spencer Reid x gn! Reader

Word: 900

Summary: Derek find out about your secret relationship with Spencer

Warnings:non sexual nudity, you wear a robe, um idk, you eat cereal now and read books, extremely short

There wasn’t a lot you enjoyed about mornings. The sun was too bright. You were expected to stop sleeping. You had to get out of bed and get dressed. That’s a lot. You did enjoy it when you didn’t get the call first thing in the morning so you could laze around with your amazing, though mostly secret, boyfriend Spencer.

This morning, you laid around in bed with him tucked into your side for a whole 45 minutes. Then you both got up, made, and ate your breakfast in your pajamas. Now, you were taking a shared shower. You were scrubbing Spencer’s head, making the shampoo foamed up. It was nice when you got to stay in each other’s company without stressing about perception or cases. It felt like it was just you two in the world, wrapped up in your own warm and foggy universe.

And then there was a knock at the door. You huffed. You dropped your hands from Spencer’s hair, making him groan. You rinsed your hand in the stream of water from the shower head. You tugged the shower door open, slipping out to wrap yourself in your robe.

“I got it, you rinse your hair out.” You said. You slipped into your house shoes, leaving the attached bathroom to Spencer’s bedroom. You headed across the apartment to the front door. You looked through the peephole, dropping your jaw when you saw Derek. You muttered a curse and pulled the door open.

“Hello, Derek.” He raised a brow at you, looking you up and down. You opened the door further, Derek stepping through. He stopped near the door, looking around the living room.

“Is Pretty Boy here?” Derek asked. You nodded, pointing your thumb back at the bathroom.

“Yes, my water broke back at my apartment so I’m borrowing Reid’s shower. He’s in his bedroom right now, reading. I’ll go get him.” You said, skittering off to Reid’s bedroom. Derek nodded, dropping himself onto Spencer’s couch. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, crossing his ankles.

“Feet off the coffee table.” You said, slipping into Reid’s bedroom. You burst through the bathroom door.

“Derek’s here. You have to get dressed and pretend like we weren’t just in the shower together if you want to keep up this act.” You said. Spencer groaned and stuck his head out. You waited in the living room with Derek as Spencer rushed out of the shower.

A handful of minutes later, Spencer joined you two. He was in a fresh set of pajamas, slippers and everything. His hair was damp but it could be perceived as he took a shower earlier. You doubted Derek would believe that.

“Good book?” Derek asked. Spencer nodded. Derek bounced his foot, still on the coffee table.

“No feet on the coffee table,” Spencer muttered. Derek dropped his feet and stood up.

“Right well. Pretty Boy. I came over here to pay you back for last week.” Derek said. Derek moved across the living room, standing in front of Spencer. Derek shoved his hand into his pocket, digging out his wallet. You watched them from the couch. Derek handed Spencer a few bills before spinning back around to head for the front door. Spencer thanked him, following after him because his wallet was in the key dish next to the door. Derek held his hand up, turning back around to face Spencer.

“Also, you two are going to have to try a little harder to hide this dating thing from Penelope,” Derek said. Spencer looked over at you for a split second.

“We’re not dating,” Spencer said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I told you, my water broke in my apartment.” You added, crossing your arms.

“And Reid still has shampoo in his hair behind his ear. You have matching house slippers, cute by the way. Your favorite book is sitting on Reid’s counter. Your keys are in his bowl. You two are stuck together like glue at work. You know Pretty Boy’s house rules. I saw your favorite cereal sitting over Reid’s Chex mix. There are pictures of you together on Reid’s fridge. If you guys really think this is going to fly under Pelenope’s radar, you’re missing a couple of screws.” Derek said, turning back to the door.

“Don’t tell Penelope. Let her figure it out on her own, please. Once she finds out, everyone will know.” You said, avoiding Derek’s eyes to stare at the coffee table. Spencer hummed in agreement.

“You know I can’t lie to her, but I won't bring it up,” Derek said. He faced Spencer again, slapping his shoulder. “Look at you, growing up.” Spencer pouted his lips, staring at the ground.

“See you at work,” Spencer said. Derek hummed.

“yeah, whatever, losers.” You added. Derek gave you a small smile, waving before slipping out of Reid’s apartment. Spencer locked his door again and looked over at you. You stood up and dragged him back to the shower.

Three days later, Penelope did figure it out. She peiced it together when she watched you make Spencer his coffee and set it in front of him. She saw your hand resting on his shoulder for just a second longer than a friend’s would and almost dropped her Hello Kitty mug. Within minutes, everyone knew and Hotch was calling you and Reid into his office.

You fully tought he was going to tear you both a new one but it ended with him handing you both a stack of paperwork and congratulating you. So your movie and take-out date night turned into paperwork and take-out date night.

[amomentsescape]

A candle lit bubble bath with the slashers (and Sinclair brothers) after very bad and long day of chasing a victim who was being extra difficult?

Slashers + Sinclair Brothers & a Bubble Bath with Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

A/N: I didn't really go into detail about them having trouble with their victim. I mostly focused on the aftermath. I hope that's okay!

Freddy Krueger

He's honestly worse than a teenage girl

Immediately comes to you ranting and calling the victim every name in the book

You just wait for him to get the anger out of his system

Once he's done dumping all of his thoughts out on you, he insists on spending some time just relaxing with one another

He clearly needs it

Jumps at the opportunity of a bath with you, excited to be this close to you (especially with no clothes on)

He likes when you lean against him, giving him full access to place kisses on your neck

Can change the lighting in his world to whatever he feels like

He says he just doesn't like candles

But you're certain the flames freak him out a bit

He keeps the water from getting cold, allowing you both to stay in the tub for literal hours if your heart desires

Michael Myers

Michael is pretty self-aware that his anger is explosive

So when he comes home after wasting his whole night chasing down one victim, he's fuming

Immediately locks himself in the bedroom for a good hour, not wanting to accidentally hurt you

You've been through this a few times before, knowing that he'll come to you when he's ready

Once he feels calm enough, he comes out and sits beside you, letting you rest your weight against him

Seeing how dirty he is, you insist on having him join you in the tub

He denies it for a bit, but eventually gives in when he realizes you're just going to keep asking

Has your back against his chest

He sort of just sits there for a while, letting the water do its thing

But if you start putting shampoo in his hair and help wash him up, he won't be opposed

Jason Voorhees

The only way Jason will ever take a bath is if you're in there with him

He's learned to find some relaxation in the warm water now, and today is one of those days where he feels like he really needs it

He comes home and just hugs you for a bit, trying to get rid of his frustrations from earlier

And once you lead him by the hand to the warm tub, he's already feeling a bit better

He's a little big for the tub, so you kind of have to sit in his lap when you join him, not that he minds

Practically becomes putty in your hands

Rub his back? Loves it

Give him little kisses? Melts

Literally just poke him? All yours

You're basically the only thing that makes Jason feel better after days like these

Thomas Hewitt

After the day he had, he just wants to see you

It's actually his idea to take a bath in the first place

He thinks it's the perfect excuse to be close with you

Will pull you up to your feet and lead you towards the tub

He already has the water running

Needs you to add the bubbles though

He just thinks you have the magic touch when it comes to adding the right amount of soap

Unsurprisingly, he's the one that wants to pamper you

Helps wash your back and rinse the shampoo from your hair

He isn't sure why, but taking care of you is what puts him in a good mood after a long day

There's just something about seeing you so happy that makes him feel happy too

Bubba Sawyer

When he comes home, he immediately grabs your hand and is blubbering about his day

Is making huge gestures on what went wrong and how upset he is

All the while, you are already leading him to the bathroom, Bubba not even paying attention to where he's going

You help him get out of his dirty clothes and lead him into the tub

You also begin lighting some of his favorite scented candles while he sits, him still freaking out

It's only when you get in the tub with him that he calms down

You both sit facing each other, pushing a toy duck back and forth

It's his favorite

His whines of anger slowly turn into giggles as you start throwing bubbles at him

With you, his mood can do a 180 in a matter of minutes

You both end up in a bit of a water fight though, soaking the whole floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is pissed

After chasing around this victim, knocking over furniture, and almost breaking his arm, he is practically ready to burst

You have to hold him tightly to you as you shush him, trying to calm him down

It only seems to work when you suggest taking a bath together to relax

He helps light candles while you tend to the water and bubbles

About makes you fall when he drags you into the tub with him, making you sit right in front of him

Gets very touchy and wants to help you get clean

But you also switch the roles too, helping him wash up even though he insists on just washing you

He eventually relaxes though, closing his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair

You both end up falling asleep together, only waking once the water cools

Norman Bates

He doesn't quite remember what had him so upset, but all he knows is that he needs some down time

When he walks through the door to see that you've already made him his favorite tea, he gives you the kindest smile

You offer a warm bath to help ease him, and he simply requests that you join as well

You both sip on your mugs while you catch up on everything that happened today

He enjoys talking with you

And having you cuddled up against him makes it all even better

He doesn't even remember feeling upset before

He just closes his eyes and leans his head back, still silently listening to you talk

Billy Loomis

He comes home silently fuming

(He got out most of his yells and punches earlier)

Before you can even ask about his day, he is grabbing you and pulling you to the bathroom with him

Doesn't say anything, just starts the bath and begins piling his dirty clothing onto the floor

Once the tub is full, he's pulling you in with him, wrapping his arms around you roughly

You both don't have to say anything, just finding comfort in being with each other during this time

He does take this moment to just reflect though, thinking of all the ways to kill in the future so another victim doesn't give him such a hard time

But don't worry, he's back to his usual self once the water has cooled

You both end up cuddling on the couch, still wrapped in your towels

Stu Macher

The moment you see his face through the door, he's on a tangent

He's telling you all about what happened, but he's talking so fast that you can barely keep up with him

And the whole time he's ranting, he's stripping off his clothes, rummaging through bags of chips, and pushing you towards the bathroom

You still don't understand how someone can multitask as much as him

He's helping you undress, still talking about how terrible the victim was and how frustrated he is feeling

But the moment he's in the tub, he's all lovey dovey

Insists on being held by you, wanting to be babied

He didn't even let the bath fill completely before hopping in, so he's practically yelling over the sound of the water

But it's worth it to be with him when he's so needy

Eric Draven

Even just one person escaping means another crime waiting to be committed in Eric's eyes

So when he comes home, his head hung a bit low, you immediately know

He sits beside you and leans into your arms, listening to your quiet reassurances

Once his mood seems a little lighter, you hurry into the bathroom and get the water running

You already had plenty of candles lit since Eric enjoys the gentle light they provide

He gets in the tub first, making sure the water isn't too hot or cold for you

Then, he opens his arms wide with a soft smile

You sit between his legs and let his full frame engulf you

Making you feel safe and secure is a guaranteed way to make Eric feel content

It never fails

Vincent Sinclair

He's absolutely exhausted

He just wants to lay with you and feel your hand in his hair

The moment he comes home and finds you waiting by the bathroom, a soft smile on your face, he's instantly put in a better mood

And this joy only increases when he sees the gentle flicker of the candles and the soapy bubbles of the tub

Immediately pulls you into a long hug, physically relaxing in your arms

And the moment the warm water engulfs him?

He's literally in heaven

Will gladly let you wash his hair and rub the soap along his back

That tough victim he dealt with just an hour before is long gone from his mind

He knows that whenever he needs fixing, you're the one to come to

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn't very easy to calm down

When he storms in, a scowl on his face, you can tell that things didn't go well for him

You just let him rage around for a bit, waiting patiently for him to calm down on his own

You can always tell he's feeling better once his eyes meet yours

"I have the bath running" is all you have to say

Bo gently nods

He'll never admit it, but during moments like these, he just wants to be pampered and babied

Leans his full weight against you, sighing in relief as the bubbles engulf him

"You always know just what I need, darlin'"

Expects long scalp massages and gentle squeezes along his arms

But don't worry, he's sure to return the favor, pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulders

Won't let you leave the tub until he's ready, and that's usually when the water has turned cold

Lester Sinclair

Although he doesn't really participate in the killings, he's still expected to help clean up

And boy, did his brothers leave him with quite the mess

He comes home filthy, his white t-shirt no longer recognizable

"Oh, honey. Looks like you need a bath."

His frustrated gaze softens quickly when looks at you

"Please," he insists

He pulls you in with him, wanting you to hold him so close that he is literally engulfed by you

Gazes at the different candles you lit while you talk to him softly

Even if his day didn't go well, he still wants to hear about yours

It's the best way to lighten his mood, knowing everything you were up to while he was out

[cxrdycxps]

Pillow Talk • Joel Miller

☢️ Smut • p in v • unprotected • f!reader • no y/n ☢️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

It didn’t happen every time you both slept together. Hell, sometimes it was a quick fumble in the stables or some messing around in the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison.

This thing wasn’t serious between you both. He needed the stress relief and you were happy enough to give him some.

“Most of the time I just miss football.” He laughed, careful not to jostle your head where it lay against his broad chest.

He had just rendered you speechless after a night at the Tipsy Bison and now all he wanted to do was talk about what he missed.

“I miss fruity shower gels and shampoo that made my hair smell like coconut.” You whispered quietly and he nodded slowly, another chuckle reverberating in his chest.

You ran your hand over his stomach, a little soft even with the layer of hard muscle under. He was just so big, it made your mouth water from across the room.

Every time you caught a glance of those shoulders you got flashes of your legs being thrown over them while he ate you out like a starved man.

Every time he ditched the flannel so you could watch his biceps flex against his t-shirt all you could picture was the strain in them when he fucked you against the wall.

The stretch of his thighs against his jeans reminded you of the times where you hadn’t even made it up the stairs, rutting against his leg like a damned dog.

The sex was phenomenal. No matter how often or how sparse it was. It always shook you to your core.

The added benefit of sleepy pillow talk was always nice. Sometimes he talked about life before, sometimes he talked about how life had turned out. He didn’t often discuss the last twenty years.

“I miss celebrating my birthday. I’d spend the day of my birthday working or whatever. Then Sarah and I would do something. Then Tommy and I would hit the strip club at the weekend.” Joel shook his head with a sigh but you finally raised yours. “It all seems so stupid now. But we had been doing it since we were barely legal enough to get into a strip club.”

“There’s a million things to miss and you miss a woman shaking her ass for you to toss a few dollars to.” You teased and he rolled his eyes. “Tell me, did you have a favorite? Do you miss her?”

“Yeah, you know what? I did have a favorite, pretty little thing. She could shake her ass like it was no one’s business. Used to book her privately too.” Joel had no shame despite you trying to embarrass him and you could only laugh at him, propping your head up on your elbow to watch him.

“Well Mr. Miller, I know in this town we don’t celebrate your birthday. Mourning and all that. But if you’re really lucky, I might get you a present.” You winked at him as you slipped from the bed, grabbing for your clothes. Your sister would no doubt be wondering where you had disappeared to.

“Oh yeah, what’s that then?” He asked, turning his head to look at you as you pulled your jeans on.

“Well, when the world went to shit I used to be one of those pretty young things. And your favorite girl might have been able to shake her ass with the best of ‘em, but I’ll show you how a professional does it.” You promised, buttoning your blouse.

Joel watched you for a few seconds, his mouth agape before he reached a hand out, lightning quick despite his age. He dragged you back to the bed, pinning you under him and you were surprised to find him pressed against you.

“I ain’t got that hard that quick since I was in my twenties.” Joel grunted, working your jeans back down past your hips.

He didn’t take them off, pinning your wrists above your head and lining himself up with the other hand to slam into you with minimal warning.

You groaned loudly, arching your hips towards him as he fucked into you, one goal in mind. “Gonna shake your ass for me? Think you would’ve let me pay you for a private show? Course you would, my fucking girl.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. It felt like he was filling you all the way. Like you could feel him taking up space in your air way. You could barely do more than arch your hips with how he had you pinned but you didn’t need to do anything else. Just let him fuck you.

You had had angry sex with Joel. You had been fucked, you had been romanced, you had done it all. But this? This hard and fast and brutal pace? This had to be your favorite. He had barely started and already you were sprung tight, ready to explode.

“Joel, I’m gonna-“

“Yeah, you fucking are. Gonna come all over me, I need it baby. Gonna take you in doggy next, see that ass bounce for me. Fucking knew you’d be able to dance. Knew that first day I saw you.” He grunted, fucking into you hard and fast. “Better find some lace baby, I want the whole fucking show.”

You couldn’t reply, throwing your head back and moaning loudly as you came and he continued to pound into you. He pulled out before he was finished and before you could complain you were flipped onto your stomach.

“Hands and knees, let’s see what those hips can do.” A rough smack against your ass had your scrambling to comply, knowing you wouldn’t be making it home tonight.

[lxcalmenace]

Some silly scenarios with bluelock boys

Based on this headcanon post

Characters included < Isagi, Bachira, Nagi, Rin, Sae and Kaiser > X gn!reader (separate)

tw: none?

⟡Isagi Yoichi - Gets into twitter discourse.

After what felt like months, it seemed that yours and Isagi's schedules had finally aligned. You entered his apartment and made your way to the living room to greet Isagi; just then you saw him sitting on the couch, a furrowed expression crossing his face and his phone in his hand. He was aggresively typing and scrolling on his phone that he failed to notice you taking a seat next to him.

"Oh shoot I didn't see you, sorry", he mutters as he shifts, allowing you to sit comfortably.

"Are you seriously arguing on twitter?," was all you said that made Isagi look away in embarrassment. Ofcourse he didn't want to admit it straight away but he was indeed losing the said argument.

"You know you don't have to prove anything to anyone right? And who even takes twitter seriously nowadays?"

You watched as Isagi let of a small huff before turning off his phone. Without a word, he pulled you in a gentle embrace as the rest of your evening blurred out into soft giggles and tender moments.

⟡Bachira Meguru - Very willing to eat inedible things.

You have been waiting to buy those food inspired scented candles for God knows too many days now; until finally, you managed to get your hands on one of them recently. It was a pancake inspired candle. It was so realistic that you could barely tell it was fake—if it weren’t for the wick sticking out of the top, you might have thought it was an actual pancake

As you opened the box, the mouthwatering, sugary smell of pancakes hit you, spreading throughout the room. This candle was too realistic and just like that, Bachira was willing to sink his teeth into the wax block.

"If it smells so good, it has to taste good too! Let me have just a bite please [name]," he whined. Bro dropped to his knees begging and pleading in exaggerated desperation- as if he would've perished due to hunger right then and there. You couldn't help but chuckle at this sight.

"Ok fine...A little bite won't hurt, but don't come complaining to me later," you sighed as you surrendered the candle to Bachira.

Disgust. Pure disgust washed over his face after he took the bite. He looked at you with teary eyes as he desperately tried to get rid of the nasty taste of the wax; which in response, you just shrugged in a 'I told you so' manner. After helping him wash his mouth and feeding him chocolates to counter the unpleasant flavor, you both finally settled down. Bachira swore that he wouldn't eat anything weird after this incident.

He tried eating cotton the next week.

⟡Nagi Seishiro - Uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.

Nagi was out shopping for some groceries while you were tagging alone for some snacks. It was a sunny day, you both entered the supermarket; Nagi took the basket as you made your way inside. He thinks shopping for basic necessities is a hassle and thus the reason for you tagging along to keep him company. You were free to get anything you wanted so you looked around the store, but nothing caught your eye. So you decided to go back, you spotted your tall boyfriend and made your way towards him. He was in the hygiene isle, eyeing down some shampoo bottles.

"Do you seriously use 2-in-1 shampoo? -" you ask, raising your eyebrow. Nagi looked at you with an unbothered expression as he shrugged, "Uh, yeah. Been using that since forever"

"Why are you asking me this, something wrong with it?" the tall male added while casually putting another bottle in the cart.

"Your hair is always so silky and soft; Its hard to believe that a simple 2-in-1 could give you those results. I mean, people spend a ton of money on haircare products, to achieve what you have, you know?" you replied.

"Then, thanks to my genes, I guess," he smirked as he turned around to look at you. You couldn't help but sigh and let out a chuckle. There was absolutely no point in arguing with Nagi- He always managed to win, even when he wasn't trying. You raised your hands as if you were surrendering, and then you both made your way further into the store.

Nagi is a simple guy, and slowly over time, you are starting to find comfort in his simplicity.

⟡Rin Itoshi - Plays roblox.

"Rin, dinner's ready, come down!" You yelled from the kitchen whilst serving the food on the table. A few unresponsive minutes passed, so you decided to fetch Rin yourself; thinking he might be in the shower or taking a nap. Making your way to the shared bedroom, you knocked on the door before poking your head through.

There he was, sitting on his gaming chair, with the lights out, playing..roblox..? You observed him for a couple of minutes, his face was illuminated by the screen, ever so unfazed; Rin was too immersed playing The Mimic that he failed to notice you slowly creeping up on him. The only time Rin was caught off guard was when you tapped his shoulder to get his attention. You swore you saw Rin's face go pale for a second as his eyes widen in surprise. "You play roblox?," you asked as you raised your brows in amusement.

He took off his headset and he nodded, "Is dinner ready?"

"It is"

"Alright"

You both stared at each other.

"Can we play Dress to impress later? Rin please-"

"NO."

Few moments later, the dark haired striker was seen playing Dress to impress, all the bright colors and outfits flashed on his screen display.

"You're doing incredibly well, who would've thought you had those designer skills in you Rinnie," you teased him

"Oh shut up...I just don't like losing, ok?" he scoffed but there was a small smile creeping on his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing very well that he only agreed to play this if only you were ready to join him in his horror games. It was a win-win situation for both of you.

⟡Sae Itoshi - Had an emo phase

Your phone was buzzing for quite some time now so you finally decided to check who was texting you at this time of the night. Sae was on his way home from practice; Deciding to stay up and wait for him to get home, you layed down on the couch while keeping a random movie playing in the background. As you opened the chat, you couldn't help but burst into laughter- There were old pictures of Sae; eyes lined with eyeliner, hair was dyed dark and swooped to a side and he was wearing dark clothes. You saved all the pictures one by one as you swiped for more, that's when you heard the door open- signaling that Sae had returned home. Quickly turning off your phone, you were trying so hard to contain your laughter, but a giggle escaped your lips.

Sae muttered a small, "What are you up to [name]?" before raising an eyebrow at you. He knew that you had something cooking up due to the way you were smiling at him.

"Sae," you purred, "if hypothetically someone were to leak your embarrassing pictures, what would you do?" you grinned.

You watched as Sae's expressions went from neutral to that of pure horror.

"[Name] don't you dare-" he warned.

"I'm not saying that I have any embarrassing pictures of you tho," you replied, "It was a hypothetical question, unless," a smirk formed on your lips as you looked at Sae. "You never know what could happen next."

His eyes widen in disbelief, he knew that you had something against him. "Fine, I don't have the energy to do this. Tell me what do you want," he sighed, giving up. "But atleast show me these hypothetical pictures you have acquired, and where did you even get them from?"

You giggle as you showed him all of the pictures; to which he openly cringed hard. He was definitely not expecting this. It brought back so many of his memories before going to Spain. He sighed as he accepted his faith and made his way to the bedroom to freshen up. You typed a quick 'Thank you' and sent the chat.

"Rin reacted '👍' to your chat."

⟡Michael Kaiser - Sleeps in till noon

'12:27'

It was past noon. You had finished making breakfast, eating it, doing some chores around the house, watering the plants, having a small snack and watching a few episodes of your favorite show, and yet your boyfriend was still in your bed, sleeping peacefully. You would've chalked it up to him being tired, but he had gone to bed exceptionally early too. It was starting to concern you now. What if he was not feeling well? You made your way to the bedroom and entered it silently. There he was, soft breathing and sleeping peacefully. You sat down beside him and gently touched his forehead to check if he was sick. Everything was fine. You decided to run your fingers through his messy bed hair, untangling any small knots. Michael slowly started to stir and the first thing he did was kiss your hand, which made your lips morph into a small smile.

"Good morning, mein Schatz," He mumbled groggily, "What time is it?" he asked while rubbing his eyes. He let out a yawn as he sat up your bed

"Its good afternoon now, wake up Micha," you continue to run your fingers through his blonde locks as he embraced you, still feeling sleepy.

You pat his head, "C'mon have your lunch, you must be hungry."

"Are you on the menu?" he muttered against your shoulder.

". . ."

"Then no, I dont want to eat"

"Michael no-"

Not proofread so ignore any mistakes and ty for reading !!

[vin-taege]

Could you do headcannons for both sfw and nsfw showering with Chishiya? :3

The Water's Just Right

Summary: Showering headcanons for our favorite snarky boy

Genre: fluff, smut, gn! reader

Note: Oh yeah, I'm back again! I've been gone for so long because of college, but I'm here again to revive the aib fandom >:3 also my first time writing headcannons. :DDD I think I got carried away sjjsjs

☄. *. ⋆ sfw

ok let's start with headcannons for the real world

as a doctor, he mainly takes quick showers

contrary to popular belief, i feel like he enjoys hot showers over cold ones. like he's already going to be stressed because of work, so might as well have at least one part of his day be a little relaxing

the only time you can take joint showers with him is during his off-days or if you stay up long enough to catch him coming home

he doesn't like it when you do the latter option because he firmly believes you should take care of yourself and sleep early

even though he runs on 3 hours of sleep maximum every day

he lets you wash his hair after initially (and weakly) refusing

you definitely use scented shampoo on him (strawberry because he thinks floral scents are too strong)

he prefers subtle scents because the hospital is already filled with strong odors.

he'll never admit he likes it when you wash his hair, especially when you massage his scalp

"did you purr a little?"

"I think you need your hearing checked."

loves it when you run your hands up and down his back

you mainly use showering as an excuse to dote on him

likes kissing your neck while you attempt to lather soap on him

random but he installed a non-slip mat on the floor because he doesn't want the two of you to get into any accidents

likes playing with your hair by gathering soap bubbles and dumping them on you

you don't point this out because you're scared he'll withdraw from letting himself be a kid for once

sometimes when it's been a rough day, he lets you hold him in the shower for a moment

just letting the warm water wash away his stress while he melts into your arms

he used to skip lotion until you started putting it on him

he got used to it after that and subconsciously started integrating it into his routine

honestly before you came along, had the worst skincare routine ever

"That's... that's not how you put on facial wash. You need to wash your face with it for at least a minute."

"I'm not a dermatologist, y/n."

"You don't need to be to know that???"

In the borderlands, it's basically the same but without the luxury of proper skin products.

always ALWAYS showers after games

he hates the ick from going outside and keeps himself sane by maintaining cleanliness

surprisingly, he's more forward with asking you to join him

in the real world, you're the one who always asks for permission, but now he always looks for your presence

especially since he knows you could be gone any day

"Do you want to join me?"

"Didn't the heater system break down?"

"I fixed ours. The water's just right."

☄. *. ⋆ nsfw

remember that non-slip mat?

oh yeah, that was definitely for this occasion

he doesn't like lifting you up because again, safety first

prefers standing positions where he can press you up against the wall.

LOVES LOVES LOVES FOGGING UP THE GLASS

he doesn't pull your hair because he knows it'll be prone to breakage

he's such a nerd about bodily care except for when it comes to himself.

holds your neck instead and uses it as leverage to pound into you

either that or he digs his fingers into your hips so he can grind his cock inside you.

makes it his goal to make you squirt at least once

OK THIS IS MY PERSONAL HEADCANNON

it may be because of the tight space, or the bathroom acoustics, or the added privacy

but this man is definitely louder in the shower

you love sucking him off because of this

deep moaning, swearing, whimpering when you're being a little shit and you overstimulate him

plays with your chest a lot because he likes how slippery the soap makes it

LISTEN

also installed a detachable showerhead ;)))

[tawfu]

What about….

Childe who is obsessed with your smell. Wether that’s your perfume, deodorant, or your natural body odor. He would for example steal your perfume and pleasure himself to the smell of it. To the smell of you

a/n: I’ve been riding this train for as long as I’ve known Childe. I just feel like he fits perfectly into the filthy, obsessive masochistic loser trope... So I obviously got carried away writing this.

It’s one of Childe’s favorite not-so-guilty pleasures. He goes out of his way to follow you around town stealthily, writing down the items you buy from each store you visit.

He decides to go on his own special trip afterwards, focusing specifically on items that can replicate your presence, such as clothes, shampoos and body sprays.

There’s nothing wrong with admiring a friend in this way, he tries to convince himself. Nothing’s weird about… spraying your perfume or cologne on a shirt that looks just like yours.

And what’s so wrong about placing them on his pillow and sniffing them while he ruts his bare cock on his bed?

Childe likes to imagine he’s laying on your chest, humping the soft flesh of your thighs as you run your perfect fingers along his hair. He shuts his eyes tightly as he moans into the cloth, inhaling it like it’s his last source of oxygen as he thinks about how you’d degrade him with a teasing voice so seductive he could cum from it alone.

“Does my pathetic little pup feel good?” you’d ask, and he’d whine into his gag, nodding frantically as his teary eyes would look into your own.

Would you force him to stop just as he’s tapering over the edge? Perhaps you’d let him cum at first, only to command him to continue fucking into your plush thighs until he couldn’t think anymore… Fuck, it’s all too much for him to think about.

He loves letting his mind wander like this, mumbling self-degrading words into thin air as a reminder of just how much of a loser he is, all while he’s emptying his balls onto his bed, adding to the filthy cum stains already on it.

Now... What if Childe was your partner? Well, he would go crazy.

Convincing you to live with him wouldn’t be too hard, not when he has the funds to provide for the both of you. However, try as he might, he’s unable to keep his perversion undercover.

The thrill of having access to your laundry was like no other. No longer would he have to make do with those stupid items he went out of his way to acquire. He had your things, right in front of him! This wasn’t even comparable to the battles he’s fought in his lifetime.

The first time it happened, he waited for you to leave the house, before sprinting to the bathroom. There was not an ounce of shame to be found in his body, not when he was filled to the brim with adrenaline. He got on his knees and began to dig through your used laundry, finding the one thing he’d dreamt about for months; your underwear.

How long did you wear them for? What did you do while wearing them? Did you pleasure yourself in these? Fight with him? God, it doesn’t even matter, because the first whiff alone would make his eyes roll back into his skull, pants already too tight for comfort.

His desperation would only increase with time. Your underwear and shirts would slowly disappear from the pile of laundry, the reason, unbeknownst to you, being that he just couldn’t get enough of them.

Scurrying into the bedroom and leaving those precious items when you came home didn’t cut it anymore. Childe would start to bring them into his room, pulling all nighters just to abuse his poor cock, filling your underwear with load after load and drooling at the combination of scents.

Catching him was inevitable, but perhaps… it was what he wished for. Maybe the excruciating spanks you delivered to his bare ass as you gagged him with the underwear he came into was something he had already been dreaming of. It was supposed to be his punishment, but his worship for you only increased tenfold.

After a while, his perversion would grow on you. It was a little entertaining, to watch just how low he’d stoop for you, just how far his obsession went.

Childe promised that he would do anything if you indulged him. He’d be a slave to your word, a most devoted boyfriend to his perfect partner, and with that, you developed a new-found enjoyment in his filthy fantasies.

Your smell was his salvation. There was nothing more perfect than the musky body odor adorning you after a long workout, and nothing more pleasurable to Childe than taking in each and every ounce of you in that state.

The smell of your armpits, the delicious sweat on your body, and more importantly, your taste… It was nothing short of pure heaven.

His mouth craved nothing more than to clean each crevice, and to make sure that your cum was added to the beautiful mess Childe loved oh so much.

Wearing your underwear for multiple days in a row became a habit, all for the sake of watching Childe sniff them so pathetically, so desperately from the source, as his cock lay snug between your feet, rutting into the makeshift hole like a dog in heat.

For a harbinger, he didn’t have a lot of pride when it came to you, but why would he? The reality was that no matter what title accompanied him, in the end, he was nothing but your dog.

[universesweetheart]

My Mess (Dazai x Reader)

In which we clean blood off him after a mission

Read my other dazai oneshots: here, here, here :] (peep the turtle smile)

Birthday Gift Series: Part I & Part 2

Impulsively wrote this today after a crying session

Bye now - Mars ♡

Dazai came home bloodied and bruised. He stumbled into your apartment, seeking you out from where you were on the couch engrossed in your book. Not caring that he was messing up your couch or clothes, he flopped down onto the couch, burying his face into your stomach with mumbles of words you have a hard time figuring out.

“Osamu, what happened?” there’s an urgency in your voice as you assess your boyfriend’s state, propping him to sit up, but he’s stubborn and bury his face into your chest. “Sit up, please, for me?”, you’ve found over the years of dating Dazai that he doesn’t allow himself the freedom of emotions. He doesn’t love often, but when he loves, he loves.

Reluctantly he sat up, looking at you with a smile, a fake one. The one he gives everyone when he so effortlessly slips into his overdramatic happy persona. But you know better. Of course, you know better when your soul is a hopeless mess without his and vice versa. It’s what happens when you spend so much time with someone, when your days and laughter blend into theirs and your body trusts them so much that sleep comes naturally, even for the sleepless like him.

“What happened, ‘Samu?” you ask again, voice so gently it takes the form of a whisper, brows frowning softly as your eyes search his for an answer, or explanation, or something. Anything he’s willing to give you. Anything of truth. No pretenses.

“Had a mission today”

That you knew. He’d told you before he left for work, thinking you were willed away with slumber, but you heard the sweet melody of his voice through your dreamland. A sickeningly sweet tune luring your soul back to its body, to him. To him.

His face was exhausted, eyes darker than usual. His hair matted with dried blood and his bandages stained red from the thick crimson. Whether his or someone else, you were unsure of.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“No”

‘Okay”

You hummed, standing up and urging him to stand too. “Let’s get you cleaned up”

You made your way to the bathroom, Osamu practically slumped over you. You guide him to sit on the stool you kept in your bathroom for shaving.

“May I?” you asked softly, your voice honeyed to not startle him. You’d seen Osamu without his bandages before though it wasn’t plenty of times. You didn’t want to rush things with him, founding yourself liking what you had with this man.

He also liked, and appreciated, your understanding nature. He loved how gentle you were with him and most of all he liked how you let him figure his shit out. Never wanting to save him, just be there for him whilst he saved himself.

He nodded, closing his eyes, and resting his head on your shoulder. His hands found themselves around your waist, if only loosely.

You gently unwrap his bandages, taking a washcloth and wetting it with some warm water, pressing it against his skin. The warmness of the water softens the stubborn dried blood. The silence overtakes you both, it’s comfortable. No need to fill the space.

You continue to wipe him down, only slipping away to run the bath for him. Filling the tub with warm water and dropping a bath bomb to dissolve in it. Stepping back over to him, ridding him of the rest of his clothes as you help him into the tub.

Osamu rested his head over the edge, whilst you wetted it, adding the shampoo and conditioner to soften the matted mess of a bird’s nest that has become his usually silky hair. You noticed he closed his eyes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, along with words of affection.

Dazai opened his eyes and looked up at you, a soft smile graced his lips. “Bella…” He spoke, “Join me”

You smiled, ridding yourself of your clothes and slipping into the waters with him. Body straddling his as you brought your hands to cup his cheeks. “Worries me when you come home like this” you confess, words shaky as you bit your lower lip to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over.

“M’okay, Bella” Osamu soothes, “See, right here, safe and sound” he whispers, drawing you closer for a kiss. A simple soft kiss, you feel him. Tongue slipping into your mouth, hands wandering down to your waist, one slipping lower to squeeze the fat of your ass.

You gasp softly against his lips, Dazai’s mouth swallowing all your sounds. “Always come back to you, baby, don’t worry that pretty little head” he rasps against your lips, swollen lips.

Dazai’s mood stabilized as his darling tended to him. The soft touches of your fingers and words caressed his soul and hardened his cock. The rawness of your worry is something he loves. Because it shows you care, genuinely. It silences his mind that tries to tell him that you don’t, that all of this isn’t real and that any day you’d up and leave him.

So when you stay and tend to him as he comes bloodied and hurt instead of running away scared and frightened and disgusted, as he expected you to be, it relieved him greatly. It affirms the unspoken truthness of your relationship. You love him. You love him. Maybe just as much he loves you, he hopes.

[g-xix]

Sidemen NSFW Alphabet | Harry Lewis

Little bit of Harry Lewis smut never did anyone any harm! Let my know whether you wanna see this for more Sidemen- who's next to write the NSFW alphabet for? Let me know, and in the meantime, enjoy this W2S pic:

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) Sweet boy once all of the sex is done. Gives soft, chaste little kisses against your back and neck and lets you have a moment to recover whilst he runs a bath. Carries you to the bath and sits down before helping you get in with him- your back against his chest, his humming sending vibrations into your body whilst you sit in the comfortable waters, closing your eyes whilst he massages your scalp with shampoo... Super soft aftercare.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) Made this headcannon before, but probably the tummy. You might be a bit insecure about it, thinking it doesn't look as toned as you want it to- but Harry couldn't care less, in fact, he loves it right where it is. He'd love resting his head on your tummy whilst your on the phone- just so that you can run your hands through his hair and make it all spiky and messed up whilst you talk, him just zoning out to the sound of your pretty voice and enjoying your presence... And sometimes just when spooning or cuddling, Harry reaches around to put his hand on your stomach- just liking the feeling of having something to hold. Always makes you laugh because it's kinda ticklish, but it never stops him from reaching around to touch his fave part of you- showering your stomach in affectionate kisses and rubs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Inside you. Probs started the relationship with condoms but both of you felt it was too restrictive, so you got onto the pill- which was when Harry started his anti-condom phase, absolutely drunk on the feeling of cumming inside you- absolutely insisting to doing it every time. Life's never been the same for him since that.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Probably that he likes being dommed every so often. Sometimes he likes brat-taming, other times he just likes being able to be controlled- told to lie back, marked up with hickeys, get praised- sometimes even degraded. Oh god, this man would just love you being vocal in the bedroom. When he's on top and fucking you he's trying to make your neighbours remember his name. And when you're on top of him, hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing it just enough to have his head spinning, he'd want you to tell him how well he's doing, or say those degrading words that only added to the pleasure.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) Definitely knows what he's doing, like, he isn't inexperienced per say. Can do it and leave you satisfied, but that doesn't mean he isn't gonna try new things. Would wanna discover different things with you just to see whether either of you like them... And probably has a few weird experiences that he brings up every so often as if "Being put in a gimp mask" is an ordinary thing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Depends on his mood- missionary is his all time favourite, but if he's in the mood for it, then cowgirl can't top it. He likes being able to see you- your face and the way your tits bounce every time he thrusts or you ride, when your on top. As we've established, when he feels like being dommed- nothing beats his hands on your waist, supporting each of your bounces whilst he watches your tits jump with each thrust- your hand also strategically wrapped around his neck so that you can lean forwards and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. And when he's horny and has the higher drive than you, he'll pin your hands above your head and pound you in missionary, his other free hand able to roam up and down your body- squeezing your chest or giving extra stimulation to your clit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Generally, he's quite horny-brained and can only think of pleasuring the two of you. But sometimes, if you're riding and his mind wanders for a moment, he might just let out a "helicopter, helicopter... aaAA-" Which does indeed make you stop so that you can just burst out laughing at him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) There's hair down there. I think generally he's quite comfy with however it is, but occasionally he'll shave it down a bit so that it doesn't become a jungle down there. November's always rough, as he is an active participator in Movember. But as soon as December comes 'round, best believe that man gets SHEARED.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Really very loving. He's passionate and talks dirty when the two of you are clearly insanely horny- but often times he enjoys pressing soft kisses against your body and making eye contact to bask in that beautiful expression you always pull when you're pleasured. Very intimate post-nut as well- will help clean you, tell you that you were amazing, press loads of little chaste kisses to your body...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Can have a wank if you're away doing something, but prefers to just go to you when he's horny. Doesn't like the thought of doing something sexual without you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Hickeying and marking one another up. He loves pulling his shirt off at the end of the day and admiring the possessive marks you'd left across his chest. And he knew the both of you loved seeing those bright red markings across your collarbones and chest whenever he took your top off- and if there weren't any- he'd make sure you left with some.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Bed. It's comfy and he knows what he's doing there. Doesn't like doing it in other rooms because he it feels unnatural and isn't much of an exhibitionist- no, he's quite happy doing it in the bedroom where he's accustomed to whatever you want to do

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Seeing you doing anything that could be mildly sexual. Seeing you bend over to put the oven tray back in? He wants to fuck you bent over. Seeing you on the rodeo machine on a night out? Suddenly he wants you to ride him. Seeing you doing yoga in the bedroom? Suddenly he wants to rip those leggings open and fuck you right then and there.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs) I think he's very experimentalist- down to try a lot of things- but probably not feet. He could laugh about "Gobbling a toe" with his mates, but in reality the thought of a foot anywhere near his face icks him out immensely. Prefers the both of you wearing socks whilst fucking, oftentimes.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Something tells me he'd prefer giving. Getting head was all well and good- but the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head with a bone-crushing pressure, hips bucking and grinding down- riding his tongue whilst he closes his eyes and laps up your pussy is something that is in his eyes- unparalleled.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Fast in the fact the both of you are chasing your highs. Sex is mainly for pleasure for the two of you, and so you'll both use each other to cum, before spending proper quality time together afterwards.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Not a fan of them. Likes being relaxed with no time limit on sex with you- nothing's a bigger turn-off for this man than STRESS, and knowing that he has to leave in 5 minutes? The thought of having to fuck in the short space of five minutes is too much for this man.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Happy to experiment when you both have the energy and all the means to try something new... But doesn't like taking real risks. If it can wait, it can wait, and if one of you are likely to get hurt in the process or something, he'd rather not try it. Taking risks is fine with him, unless it involves the possibility something could go wrong and end up harming you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Probably just one round... Doesn't need to go another because he knows overstimulation isn't the biggest kink for the two of you

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) I'm gonna say he doesn't have toys for himself or use them on you. He knows if he's horny he can just go to you, and the same applies to you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Not much, I don't think he'd really tease at all- he'd be too horny and needy to play with you or tease you- instead just fucking you. However when you were in the mood, there was always something special about teasing Harry- giving little signs in public and brushing against him knowing how it made him felt- riling him up made sex even better, somehow, as he pounded you harder than normal, giving stars in your vision

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Not stupidly loud- he lets out grunts and low groans whilst he's on top and leaves you to make all the loud noises. The first time you dommed him, he ended up letting out a little whine. That shocked the both of you, and you both sort of stared at each other for a moment in surprise- but you later admitted you kinda liked that, and so whenever you're domming, he now lets out high whines and sometimes even moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) One time you decided to experiment with rope. Something about tying you up to the bedframe felt really just morally wrong to him, and he didn't feel comfortable fucking you whilst you were vulnerable like that... But when you gave a go at reversing the roles? When you tied his wrists together behind his back and rode him- leaving hickeys across his collarbones and neck whilst you bounced on his dick- he realised he really liked rope.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) Probs above average but nothing that'd be unmanageable or insanely big... Something around six inches, maybe a bit more- but thick, and always leaves you filled

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) I think he has a v reasonable sex drive- isn't constantly thinking or needing it. When he does want it though, he's quite needy- constantly asking and pressing kisses to your neck to let you know he needs you

Z = ZZZ (Do they fall asleep straight after? are they tired or still have energy?) I don't think he'd fall straight asleep, but would definitely be tired or lethargic straight after... Lazily gets up to grab some water for you and runs a bath for the two of you to sit in and just relax... Not one to do anything very high energy post-sex

-------------------------------

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[adore-laur]

Hii I love your writing ! Idk if you’re still taking dadrry requests but I’d love to see how he’d react to one of his girls being super picky with food and how he deals with that ! Like him making a bunch of meals for his baby hoping she’ll like it :’)

——

Now that his youngest was able to eat solid foods at six months old, Harry took it upon himself to introduce her to the wonderful world of fruits and vegetables. While it might have been easier and more convenient to purchase jars of mediocre mashed baby food from the store, Harry was a chef and wanted to expand his culinary capabilities. And maybe impress you just a little bit. You were slowly weaning from breastfeeding, and he wanted to show his appreciation for your relentless nourishment. Keeping his babies alive and healthy made him forever indebted to you. His favorite way to repay you was by cooking whatever meal your heart desired and making sure your belly was full.

It was eleven a.m. when Harry got started on making lunch. You were out of the house with your eldest at her weekly swimming lesson and were due to arrive home shortly. He was hoping you didn't stop for lunch on the way back since he was planning on making the whole family lunch once he satiated his babbling baby girl seated in her high chair.

After mulling over potential recipes, he decided on something simple—baked pears and a side of steamed zucchini made into a purée. He got to washing and slicing the three pears he nabbed from the roadside farmers market downtown, all while listening to the mourning doves coo and the waves lapping the shore outside the open window. He fell into a tranquil state of cooking, his muscles on autopilot when handling knives, bowls, and pans. It was second nature to him—his favorite pastime next to hanging out with his girls.

Once the pears were baking in the oven, Harry whipped up the zucchini purée. He chopped one up, placed the pieces in a saucepan, and then seasoned them before steaming the pale green vegetable for ten minutes. In the meantime, he lifted his baby girl from her high chair and snuggled her close while the sweet aroma of his cooking concoction swirled in the air. She was getting bigger every day, and it snapped his heart into little pieces. Pretty soon, she'd be crawling around the house with curiosity. She was already teething and mimicking sounds. Laughing and putting toys in her mouth. And while those milestones filled him with an enormous amount of pride, he couldn't help but realize how short-lived they were.

When the oven timer beeped, Harry sat his baby girl on his hip and carefully took the glass dish of pears out with a hot pad. They were golden brown, which made his stomach grumble. He set them on the stovetop and flicked the heat off for the zucchini. He needed both hands for the next step, but he really didn't want to stop holding his baby, whose wispy hair smelled like the lavender shampoo he used during her bath time last night. She was awake and in a slightly cranky mood because of teething. The only thing he could do to alleviate the irritable pain she was experiencing was to offer his knuckle as a soothing thing to gnaw until he found the time to order a teething toy. He was unconcerned with the drool and dull ache caused by her. This wasn't his first rodeo.

It was actually why you had started to wean earlier than you did with your first child. You mentioned breastfeeding was uncomfortable enough, and adding teeth to the mix was even more unpleasant. He wholeheartedly supported your decision and made it his mission to never have you stress over cooking separate meals for two babies and yourself. It was part of his lifelong repayment.

While the pears and zucchini cooled, Harry rummaged through the living room in search of the baby sling—also known as the greatest invention for multitasking parents. And dads who couldn't get enough of holding their babies. Guilty, he thought to himself.

Once he located it under a pile of princess dresses, he put it on and wrapped his baby nice and snugly in the fabric. Then he went back to the kitchen and used his two free hands to grab the food processor from the corner cabinet. Setting it on the island, he brought over the zucchini and poured them in before pressing the purée setting. The grating noise startled the baby, and Harry gently bounced in place while covering her tiny ears.

Mushy green slop was the result after he turned off the loud device. It wasn't necessarily appetizing to him, but the way his daughter was making grabby hands at it made him proud of his very own baby food creation. He opened the silverware drawer and grabbed a silicone spoon. He dipped it into the purée and then held up a small serving to her awaiting mouth.

"This is zucchini," Harry said, sincerely hoping she'd like it. "It's good for your bones and digestive system. Now, you have to tell Daddy what you think. This is a trial run to find out what you like." He delicately stuck the spoon in her open mouth and watched her slowly remember how to chew. Her rosebud lips smacked together as some purée slid down her chin. Babies were cute when they ate, but boy did they make a mess. Her expression didn't give anything away, but the way she was spitting out everything that was on the spoon sure did.

"All right," he whispered, a bit disappointed. "That’s okay. Zucchini's not for everyone."

Her chubby fist reached up and landed on his neck, no doubt protesting for better food. He couldn't help but laugh at the green smears bordering his adorable daughter's mouth. Taking his phone out, he captured a couple of pictures and sent them to you before wiping the mess with a paper towel. He made a mental note to also order bibs—another sign that she was growing up too quickly. God, it wounded him. He might have to ask for a third baby after all.

Harry walked over to the stovetop and picked up a warm, baked pear slice. Using his teeth, he tore off half a chunk for himself and guided the other one into her mouth. He had to help her chew this time since the consistency was more solid than the purée. His thumb and forefinger held her jaw as he gently moved it up and down. His baby's beautiful eyes stared at him, entranced by his face so close. He stared right back at her, admiring all the parts that were him and you. Day by day, she looked a little more like you, and he was ecstatic about it. His genes might've been strong in the newborn stage, but they stood no chance against the potent beauty of yours.

There was nary a complaint when she swallowed the piece of pear. None at all until Harry got her another, and as soon as it touched her lips, she burst into tears and pushed his hand away like it was the absolute last thing she wanted in front of her.

"Not even pears?" Harry said, equal parts humored and defeated. "You're going to be a picky little eater, aren't you? Just like your sister."

With a sense of mild failure sitting in his chest, he opted to feed her a bottle of breastmilk in the refrigerator until you got home. Your motherly instincts would surely help him figure out her palate. Even though he was a chef and understood everyone's acquired tastes, it was his daughter who was unimpressed with his skills.

Eating the rest of the pears and the bland zucchini purée, he laughed to himself. His girls kept him on his toes, but he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

——

[luvfy0dor]

"How Gorgeous !!" BSD x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ Fyodor, Nikolai, Chuuya♡

Warnings; yk the drill; probably a little ooc, other than that pure fluff, dyed hair Nikolai bc I saw some people who REALLY dislike blonde Nikolai so I'm just gonna put that as a warning

Description; Select bsd boys letting you do stuff with their hair

A/N; I'm so sorry to the two people in my requests I know dad Fyodor anon is there and so is another rlly cute request, Im thinking stuff up I pinky promise :(( im not ignoring anyone istg I'm just having severe writers block so when i got this idea i wrote it out as fast as possible just to have something out for yall, i hate posting only twice a week.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ༉‧₊˚.

Fyodor enjoyed having his hair washed, he liked the feeling of your soft fingers massaging his scalp while he hummed, very pleased with the favor you had stepped up to do for him.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The sound of water splashing against the porcelain of the tub filled the bathroom as you drew a bath for Fyodor and yourself. His plans were all over the place as of late, and you felt maybe a nice bath and head massage might soothe him a bit. His hair was getting a bit greasy under that ushanka, and you weren't gonna just let him go about his day overworked and musty.

You could hear the door unlock, along with the soft tapping of Fyodors boots, coming to a pause and being momentarily substituted by the clicking of the lock. You stood up, shaking the water off of your hand from checking the temperature and turning to him.

"Hi Fedya, how's your work coming along?" You ask, removing the ushanka from his head and brushing his bangs away from his face. He hums and rests his head on yours, his hands gently stroking your back. "It's not coming along very well, if I'm honest, dear." He sighs retracting from the hug and starting to remove his shoes and unbutton his shirt. "Very stressful."

You nod in understanding, sliding his shirt off his shoulders while he undoes the final buttons. "Things will work out for you, they always do." You say. You both finish undressing and get into the tub, Fyodor sitting between your legs and kinda leaning back against you, his eyes closed as he sighs, clearly relaxed. You fill your cupped hand with water and spill onto his head, the droplets trickling down the thin strands of his midnight colored hair.

His steady breathing was your indicator that he was feeling at the very least a little better. You pumped some shampoo into your hand and ran it through his hair, your fingertips rubbing against his scalp, drawing soft sounds of contentment from his lips. Filling a small, nearby cup with water, you gently poured it over his head and rinsed out the suds. Some of the water drips down his face, small drops catching in his eyelids as his head leans back. You smile at his small reactions.

"Mmn, that feels very nice, my dear." He murmurs, the corners of his lips being tugged into a small smile, a smile of leisurly pleasure. "Good." You reply while you begin lathering conditioner in the ends of his relatively long hair. The scent of the tea tree conditioner only added to the lingering fragrance of the matching shampoo. Fyodor liked the smell of tea tree, and if he didnt use that, he used faint floral scents. You run your fingers through his straight hair, parting a couple of pieces and starting to absent-mindedly braid them together, weaving the strands over and under each other.

Fyodor tilts his head back a bit more, rotating it to look at you. "Are you thinking about anything in particular?" He questions, his gaze soft. You shake your head, running your fingers through the braided hair pieces, ultimately undoing it. "No, not really." And it was the truth. The two of you were basking in the moment the way a lizard does in the sun. Your hand snakes down to grab onto his, giving it a soft squeeze which he returns. After washing yourselves off, you stand up and wrap towels around yourselves once you've initially rid most of the drops of water from your skin. You both get dressed in pajama pants, a tee shirt for you and a sweater for Fyodor, a smaller towel around his neck.

The towel is visibly wet as Fyodor leans against the sink, watching you ruffle your hair to dry it. "Fedya, your towel is soaked. Here, let's blow dry your hair." You say, reaching into one of the drawers of the sink, pulling out the blow-dryer and plugging it into the wall. "We could always towel dry it and save money on the electricity bill." He says, starting to squeeze any remaining water out of his hair with the towel.

"It's fine, trust me, it's not like it's upping the bill a trillion dollars." You say, the nozzle of the blow-dryer pointed just downwards of Fyodors chin, aimed towards the (a little more than) damp ends of his hair. "Alright, alright." He nods at your response. "Okay, ready?" You ask, your finger hovering over the 'on' switch. "Mhm." He nods with a soft smile, and with that you flick on the blow-dryer to the lowest setting. The air is hot as you move the dryer from side to side, not allowing the heat to be directed to one spot and burning Fyodors skin.

Fyodor listens to the whir of the blow dryer with his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowing when the warm air hits his forehead as you get his bangs. You laugh at his expression under your breath and ruffle his hair a bit to dry the roots better. Once his hair was...well, dry enough, the sound of the hair dryer came to a halt. His eyes opened again, their purple color as beautiful as ever under the dim bathroom light. His hand goes to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin, as he places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. When he pulls away, he's giving you a small, faint smile.

"Thank you for pampering me, it is a wonderful feeling." He quietly says, one of his hands on the bottom of your neck. You nod and give him a full kiss on the lips in response. "You're welcome, I love doing that type of stuff for you. I like playing around with your hair." You state, pushing a strand behind his ear. You stare into each other's eyes for another couple of seconds before he leans backwards, unlocking and opening the door. The cold air from the rest of the house causes you to shiver a little.

"Would you like to join me for some tea before bed?" He asks, standing in the doorway. You nod and follow him, flicking the light off behind you as you both make your way to the kitchen. He starts to boil the water in a kettle, grabbing a tea bag from the cabinet for each of you. He waits for the water to reach it's boiling point and leans against the counter, gently pulling you into his chest. You smile and wrap your arms around his torso, one hand reaching up to twirl some of his hair around your finger. He sighs softly, leaning his head backwards and into your touch. When the water is finally ready, he softly guides your body to the side, walking past you to fill the mugs with water and dip the tea bags in. After a couple moments, he hands you your cup, sipping from his.

"Thank you, my love." You murmur with a appreciative smile while taking a sip yourself. He nods. "Ofcourse, dear."‧₊˚.

Nikolai Gogol ༉‧₊˚.

Nikolais hair isn't just white naturally, obviously, so whenever his hair needed to be touched up, he turns right to his lover to help him out. He tried doing it himself and nearly ended up with bald spots from forgetting about the bleach and leaving it on for WAY too long.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Although they weren't those most noticable thing in the entire world, Nikolais roots were starting to show. You had noticed though, ofcourse, because you spend a lot of time around him. Every time the taller man was snoring in your arms, your eyes drifted down to the forming tufts of dark blonde hair peeking through the white, shiny strands. You made him aware of it, and he sent you off to get bleach and toner after he couldn't find any around the house. That conversation was exactly what landed you in the hair aisle of the store closest to you.

You inspected the packaging of each dye until you could deem one a good enough and trustworthy brand. You brought it up to the register and payed for it, exiting the store and driving back home. The weather was rather gloomy and rainy today, making you skitter quickly through the driveway and to the door. Pushing it open, you sigh having finally escaped the rain. Though it wasn't pouring, it was still not something you wanted to stand in for all that long. "Kolya!" You called out to your boyfriend through out the halls of your home, taking off your shoes and jacket.

Upon fully standing up, you went to walk further into the house just as you could see a yellow light starting to form behind you. You laugh a bit before turning around. "How many times do I have to tell you, you're not gonna be able to scare me by doing that." You say with a playful eyeroll. His head fully pokes through the portal. "You can tell me as many times as you want, dear, that doesn't mean I'm not gonna try it." He says with a grin, his hand popping through the portal to gently guide your face closer to his. He presses a kiss to your cheek before he fully comes through the portal.

"You got the bleach?" You nod, holding up the box. "Yeah, c'mere, we'll touch up your roots right now." He follows you into the bathroom as you pry open the box, shaking the contents onto the sink counter. You grab the gloves and slide your hands into them before turning to Nikolai. "Here, go sit on the edge of the tub so I can do this accurately." You say, pointing in the direction of the bathtub. He nods and sits down, his feet in the tub with his back facing you. You stand with your hands on your hips while reading the directions and grabbing the packet of bleach powder. Nikolai peers at you over his shoulder, grinning at your face of concentration.

You mix the bleach with the developer together in the bowl, setting it back on the counter once it's the right consistency and walking over to Nikolai. "Your hair is so long, Kolya." You say, undoing his usual braid and starting to section his hair as he smiles. "Ofcourse it is! Its been growing for a long time, my dove." He replies with a grin, feeling your hands part his hair and clip certain pieces in certain places to keep them separated. You started applying the bleach to his roots, his soft 'tee-heeing' being heard over the sound of the bleach being applied to his hair, apparently in a ticklish way.

"Does it tickle that much?" You ask, grabbing another bit of his hair. He nods. "Yes, yes it does." He beams, kicking his feet up onto the other edge of the tub.

Upon making it all the way around your boyfriends head, you proudly stood back to observe your work; the blue substance already lightening the first bits of hair you worked on. "It's already working, Kolya, your hair will be renewed in like...well, the box says twenty minutes." You say, inspecting the piece of cardboard. "Oh, I'm sure you did such a wonderful job. I'm so excited to see it." Nikolai says, standing up from his place on the side of the tub.

"Wait a minute," you say, exiting the bathroom and heading to the kitchen before returning, ripping a piece of aluminum foil from the roll you had fetched. "If we stick this on your head, it'll go quicker." He laughs and pats the foil down on his head, nodding. "And why is that?" You think for a moment. "It traps heat and stuff." You say, stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Nikolai following you. "Oh wow! My dove is just so smart!" He says with his cheeky little grin. You playfully roll your eyes and toss your gloves in the garbage can.

"That's basic, I feel like everyone knows that. I think you know that too, but you just wanted to hear that from my mouth." He nods, resting his hand on your shoulder. "See? What a genius." You quietly scoff.

You wait out the twenty minutes with Nikolai, talking about whatever silly stuff comes to mind. When the timer on your phone rings, you crumple up Nikolais make shift aluminum hat and tossing it in the garbage. You examine the roots of his hair, which are a very pale yellow. You shrug it off and bring him to the bathroom, rinsing the bleach out of his hair and shampooing and conditioning it with his head under the tub faucet. You put a towel over his head and ruffle his hair, examining it once more.

"Oh, it's not that yellow." You murmur. "The toner will fix that, and then you'll be twinning with Fukuchi again." You say, your eyes scanning the bathroom counter for the box with the toner. You raise an eyebrow when you come to realize it's not there. You must have left it in your car, so that's where you head with a soft hum of confusion. Bolting out to your car, trying to avoid the rain, you're met with a toner-less sight. You sigh.

"I didn't even buy it." You say to Nikolai exasperatedly while simultaneously scanning your receipt, and unsurprisingly finding only the bleach. "Aw, don't worry! We can get it when the rain clears up, I won't make you go out again." He insists, pulling you into his chest. You just sigh and wrap your arms around him. "Yeah, you're right." You murmur, your body limply leaning against his. He pats your back.

"Come sit down with me, we should play a board game or a card game. They're perfect for rainy days, don't you agree?" He says, plopping down on the couch. "I do agree. Do you have a preference for a specific game right now?" He thinks for a moment before shaking his head. "No, not in particular." You go off to find a good game for the both of you to play, settling on Uno. "Okay Kolya, quiz time! What game do I have?" You say, imitating your boyfriend. He giggles at your impersonation of him, placing a finger on his chin while thinking. "Hmm, I'm gonna guess Uno." He says. You nod, making him grin.

"I guess we're both quite smart then, dove! Let's play, shall we?" He pats the seat on the couch next to him, making you smile as you nod and walk over to sit with him. ‧₊˚.

Chuuya Nakahara ༉‧₊˚.

Chuuya didn't really entrust many people with the task of cutting his hair and keeping it a constant length, but with one hell of a lot of convincing, he decided to let you try it.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking down the hallway, you had a little more pep in your step than usual. Your boyfriend finally decided he trusted you enough with his hair to let you trim it. Whether you have experience with cutting hair or not didn't matter, you were determined to make this the best haircut Chuuya would get in his entire life.

You only did minimal preparation for this, and by minimal preparing you had some kitchen scissors, a comb, and a brush. As you turned the corner into your shared bedroom, you saw your red-headed boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed, seemingly rethinking his decision. "Alright, Chuuya! I'm gonna give you the best trim of your life, trust me." You say, waving him into the bathroom to follow you. He does with a nervous sigh, standing next to you in the mirror.

"Alrigh, Chuuya. How much do you want off?" You ask, starting to brush out his un-even hair. "No more than half an inch doll, don't get me wrong, I love and trust you and all but.." he murmurs, staring at you through the mirror.

"Oh no, I get that, I would NEVER let you do this to me." You say, combing through his hair. "What?!" He says, a shocked look on his face. You laugh a bit before grabbing the scissors. "Im joking, don't worry." You reassure him, cutting off some hair on the back of his head. He hears the scissors cut a bit off and his eye twitches.

You continue snipping away, little clusters of his hair fall onto his shoulders and onto the floor. You could see his eyes following every chunk as it dropped, hitting the floor tiles after drifting from side to side for a couple moments. "Chuuya, it looks perfectly fine so far, don't worry." You proudly state, grabbing a hold of some of the longer hair, combing it out and cutting off a half inch of it as he asked. "I'm not too sure about that, but whatever you say, darlin'." He mumbles, his intense stare aimed at you. It wasn't aggressive or mean, but a bit anxious.

You continued, pulling at pieces of Chuuyas hair, one small section at a time, really putting your heart and soul into his trim. Once you had decided you were done, you stepped back and grabbed a smaller mirror, turning Chuuya around and handing it to him. "Here, look! It turned out very well, if I do say so myself." He thoroughly assessed it before nodding.

"Alright, you're right, it doesn't look nearly as bad as I thought it would." He says, ruffling it a bit before brushing it out and putting his hat on. "Oh, did you not have any faith in me at all?" You playfully scoff, your hands on your hips. He grins and shakes his head. "Don't you worry doll, I've got plenty of faith in you. My faith doesn't lie in your barber skills, though." He says, his gloved fingers guiding your chin closer to his face, his soft lips gently colliding with yours, making you smile. His thumb gently caresses your jawline.

When he pulls away, he doesn't go far. He murmurs a couple of soft words against your lips. "You did real good though, I must admit." He says, admiring his hair in the mirror, running his fingers through it.

"Im glad you like it." You say, observing his hair, too. "Maybe I should let ya do my hair more often." He looks over at you with a small grin. You laugh a little and nod. "Yeah, maybe you should."

[t1oui]

barty crouch jr. is eleven the first time evan rosier takes his breath away.

he's a second year in barty's house, with warm brown skin and blonde hair and amber eyes that flash gold in the sunlight. he knows regulus. one of barty's dormmates, somehow, and he smiles at barty like he wants to know him, too.

barty is thirteen when he finally figures out what the butterflies in his stomach mean.

they're sitting down at the lake, barty on the grass, soaking up the sun. pandora sits on a blanket next to him, her half of it in the sun, the other half underneath regulus in the shade of a tree. dora's busied herself with making flower crowns, and evan and dorcas are swinging at each other and laughing, both ankle deep in the water of the black lake. evan reaches up to kick water at her, and the silver of his anklet - a thin chain with a silver daisy charm hanging off of it - catches the light.

dorcas ducks away and shoves evan square in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps before he finally lands hard on the grass next to barty. it must've hurt, even in the soft green, but instead of wincing, he just turns to barty and grins.

oh, barty thinks. it's so obvious, he thinks.

barty is a fourth year the first time he kisses evan rosier.

it's the first christmas he doesn't go home for. he spends long hours knocking about the castle, staying out past both the regular curfew and the one made later for the break.

"can't sleep, crouch?" evan had asked him, making him jump, polished prefect badge - no doubt pandora's handiwork - sparkling from his collar. and suddenly there was mistletoe and the chance to finally make his fantasies a reality. there was the taste of evan's lips (vanilla) and the smell of his shampoo (cucumber) and the feeling of his arms around barty's waist (intoxicating).

even on that dreary, cold evening, there was hope.

barty is a sixth year when regulus begins going out with james potter.

they're on the train, barty halfway out the window, evan's arms tight around his middle in the fear of him falling, and barty hoots with laughter when regulus jumps into potter's arms. potter's a seventh year like evan. head boy, a gryffindor, and one of pandora's best friends, for some reason.

"leave them be, barty," evan snorts, pulling him back through the window. barty watches him, opening his mouth to speak, only to be swiftly cut off by his boyfriend adding, "we can be as dramatic as we like, but i'm not risking missing this train just so we can kiss in front of it."

barty groans in protest, but by that point regulus has arrived at the door to their compartment with a sheepish-looking james potter in tow, so he decides to annoy them instead.

barty is seventeen the first time he comes to hogwarts without evan, and it makes him feel empty.

he's still got regulus and dorcas, of course, but there's a gaping hole in the group now that the twins have graduated. regulus is quiet without james to bring him out of his shell. dorcas doesn't cheer as hard during quidditch games - ones without regulus in them, of course - without marlene mckinnon there to cheer on. and barty? barty isn't himself without ev there to easy his anxieties.

night after night, barty and regulus curl up in the same bed for nights of bad rest. it gets easier, over time. letters pile up. floo calls happen weekly. and while regulus and dorcas struggle, barty thinks about the future. the one decided by him, and not anyone else.

two days after his eighteenth birthday, barty steps off the hogwarts express for the last time.

regulus and dorcas don't hesitate to sprint past him towards james and marlene, who wait with evan futher down the platform. barty, though, hesitates. gives himself a moment to take a deep breath, smile at evan, and start running.

evan envelopes him in a hug, his arms a reassuring weight around barty.

"you must be tired," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "eight newts, barty. you're insane."

barty grins into evan's chest. "i missed you too, rosie," he mumbles. he lets out a content sigh he didn't realize he was holding in, and evan hums.

"welcome home, love," he says. "our home."

[purriteen]

Ad victor spolia, chapter two

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years)

author's note: I feel like this chapter is kinda shitty since I’ve mostly written pure smut before, not to mention I haven’t written in English in a while so I’m still warming back up to the language & structure

but alright, since I've just been projectile vomiting words all day anyways y'all get two chapters at once this time mostly cause I myself couldn't wait to flesh out what happens next

word count: 3,345

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You struggled to fall asleep that night. You’d already come to the conclusion that slipping past the guards positioned along the tall metal fence or the main gate wouldn’t be possible, but at least, before you used to have the privilege of leaving the house and spending time in the garden whenever you wanted. Now you were truly trapped. Now that you needed to get out of here the most.

At first you’d enjoyed going for walks in the garden or having tea in one of the quaint greenhouses, until you discovered the one with those god awful rose bushes. The ones that reeked of your brother. You figured he didn’t tend to them himself, but that didn’t ease the disgust you felt whenever that familiar, overwhelming scent reached you. It was nauseating.

Even in his absence, everything reminded you of him, in the worst way possible. In every nook and cranny of the house there’d be a reminder that this was his home. For a moment you wondered if his signature scent had worn off on you; your shower was equipped with various settings and products, but it was always stacked with that familiar rose shampoo you could smell on him whenever he got close to you - too close for your liking -, without exceptions.

When you finally fell asleep, your face was raw and puffy from all the crying. You hadn’t even bathed or brushed your hair, or changed into one of the many pyjama sets in your wardrobe.

Then, at around seven in the morning according to your alarm clock, you awoke to the sound of keys rustling outside your door. You were relieved when you realised it wasn’t Coriolanus - he’d never make such an awkward entrance. Instead, your nanny maid stepped through the door. Eugenie. She looked even more anxious than usual. Perhaps she took pity on you - if only she knew. 

The two of you hardly spoke that early Friday morning. She’d brought something for you to eat, stacked on a silver tray. As if you needed another reminder of your complete lack of autonomy here, your own brother now wouldn’t even let you have breakfast in the kitchen anymore. At least he’d been generous enough to let you have something you could actually stand to eat, you supposed. A bowl of blueberries and grapes and a fresh loaf of bread with butter and marmalade, neatly plated next to it. 

You sat on the small couch in the corner of the room as you ate your breakfast, only managing to get small bites down. Watching Eugenie change your bedsheets and clean up after last night, you simply couldn’t think about anything else. That was enough to make your appetite vanish.

Once you were both done she gestured towards the bathroom, and you took the hint. She went in first and ran a warm bath for you, before leaving the room to give you some privacy. Finally you took a proper look at yourself for the first time since yesterday.

Your hair was a mess, but what worried you most was the prevailing handprint on the left side of your face. Three, four stripes of a faint purplish colour that was already fading to yellow in some places. You shakily inhaled, forcing yourself to keep it together. The last thing you needed was for Coriolanus to think he was getting to you, even if he was right.

Yet you still didn’t realise the extent of your injuries until you’d already sunk down into the bathtub, relatively comfortably so. You’d felt the swelling on the back of your head last night, of course, but it was almost worse now. All you wanted to do at the moment was fall back asleep, but the aching bump on the back of your skull made it impossible to rest your head anywhere without being in pain. 

A couple minutes later, Eugenie returned. This time with an ice pack in hand, which she carefully placed in your hand and guided it towards the back of your head. She flashed you an almost sorrowful, empathetic smile, before she stepped back and closed the door behind her.

You weren’t particularly fond of her, but you didn’t want to make the poor woman’s job any harder than it already was. So you made sure to thoroughly wash yourself before she got back. The sight of the dried blood from your scalp liquifying and mixing with the bathwater as you rinsed your hair made you feel nauseous. 

You wondered what dinner would be like. If he would pretend nothing happened yesterday, or perhaps dish out another beating. You still hadn’t entirely grasped everything that went down last night. Everything he had kept from you, above anything, the hatred he’d felt for you. The thought of your warm, outwardly unassuming cousin having to make such a sacrifice for you made you feel sick. Poor Tigris. 

Not to mention being reminded of your mother’s passing. You knew she’d died in childbirth, your birth, but you never thought of it as your fault until he brought it up. Grandma’am never once blamed you for the loss of her only daughter-in-law. And until that moment, neither had Coryo. Not openly, at least. You were left staring at yourself in the mirror for a while, wondering if it was truly worth it. If you were worth it.

You knew you couldn’t afford to think like that, to let him get to you. But this was all so unlike the Coryo you were used to, you’d seen this side of him before, to some extent, but never directed towards you. You wished he had just stayed away, that he would’ve left you alone after the initial shock of Grandma’am’s passing. 

As you patted yourself dry with the soft white towel always hung on the gilded heating rack, you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what you deserved. You’d dragged everyone down. You hadn’t even been able to take proper care of grandma’am the last couple days of her life, or at least, Coriolanus wouldn’t let you. 

You sat down on the edge of the bathtub. Waited a couple more minutes. Got impatient again. You decided you might as well get dressed again before Eugenie came back, but the pile of clothes you’d left on the floor was already gone. In its place a peachy slip dress and a robe, with a pair of slippers to match. You sighed and slid on the matching set.

A few minutes later, she returned just on time. This time she just had a glass of water and a small yellow-ish pill in hand. You furrowed your brows a little, looking up at her. “What’s this for?” You inquired, silently scolding yourself as you heard the annoyance in your own voice. This wasn’t her fault, it’s Coriolanus you were upset with. “It’ll help the healing, Miss.” You simply nodded in return, washing down the small capsule with a sip of water before returning the glass to her.

Concern was written all over her face as she studied you for a couple seconds, discomfort forming in your gut. “I’ll be back in four hours with lunch. Master Coriolanus asked me to inform you that his personal stylist will pay you a visit tonight at six.” Her words came out tense and rushed, and you were left with no time to react before she stepped back and locked the door again. You weren’t sure why she was so out of it, or if you even wanted to know.

You were familiar with Coriolanus’ personal stylist. She’d been the one to prepare you for any of those important public appearances where your attendance was actually needed. Rumina, you believe her name was. She was not the type of person you’d expected to find working such a job - she was always well dressed, but always in a timeless, classic fashion rather than the bold, colourful looks that were all the rage this year. 

You supposed that might’ve been why your brother hired her in the first place. Beyond just that, she appeared to be in her fifties or sixties, whereas most stylists were much younger. The reason for that on the other hand, you couldn’t quite grasp. But despite her elegant exterior, you couldn’t stand her personality. She wouldn’t shut up about how delighted she was that somebody was finally ‘stepping up’ to truly restore Panem to its ‘former glory’. 

Truthfully you’d given up on politics long ago - you’d never been among the pick of the litter back at the Academy, largely thanks to being so caught up with caring for Grandma’am. Not to mention the way your last name seemed to precede you every time you entered a classroom - it was clear you had big shoes to fill, after your big brother’s academic achievements - which only drove you further away. So it was clear that wasn’t the right path for you. But at least, before Coriolanus’ presidency, you’d actually thought you might one day have a career of your own, something worth dedicating your life to. You just needed to heal and learn how to stand on your own two feet. 

Until he’d robbed you of that opportunity entirely. You didn’t even truly understand why, how it in any way actually served him. He had every reason to lock up Tigris, if he was simply worried about his own family turning on him. You’d never stood up to him in that sense before, or tried to distance yourself. He’d done a great job at that himself. If he genuinely believed you were so frail, he could’ve just left you in that penthouse to let you wither away in peace. He didn’t need to keep you so close to him.

Despite feeling about as rejuvenated as you could get under these circumstances after that bath, you felt a wave of drowsiness hit you. You laid back on the newly made bed, hoping to just fall back asleep. Instead you laid awake for nearly half an hour, staring at the canopy ceiling. Eventually you’d had enough.

You got up and walked over to your dresser, quickly pulling open your underwear drawer. You doubted that it was actually hidden, but you’d kept some old memorabilia from your childhood stashed in the shoe box at the very back of the drawer. Pictures of you and Grandma’am. Of all four of you who survived. Even a couple pictures of Coryo and your mom and dad together before you were born. 

There was a particular picture of them you just couldn’t stand. As far as you knew Coryo didn’t even remember the photograph’s existence. Mrs. Snow was sat next to your father, who stood up straight right by her side, with their newborn son in her arms. His gloved hand was steadily placed on her shoulder, but his face was about as devoid of any emotion as hers was of happiness. He had Coriolanus’ eyes - a pale shade of blue, cold and unforgiving. 

Your mother on the other hand, looked afraid, exhausted and tense. No amount of makeup was enough to hide the dark circles under her wide eyes. You’d always admired her beauty, and although you never had the chance to know her, you felt a sense of pride in the resemblance the two of you bore. You had her eyes, her smile, her lips. Even her hair, although hers was wavier than yours. Coriolanus always recalled her as a warm, loving mother, and you didn’t doubt that, but this picture always gave you the impression she had to have been wildly unprepared for the task of becoming a mom, and consequently disillusioned. Or worse.

Everyone always spoke fondly of her, of her charm and youthfulness, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they were simply tiptoeing around the word naive. You didn’t have any memories of your father either, but just from the few photographs you had of him he’d always instilled a sense of fear in you. You hated how much Coriolanus was starting to resemble him. 

Finally you got to the picture of Grandma’am holding you in her arms shortly after your mother passed. She was visibly shaken up, and both you and her worn hands were bloody. You’d been told many times of how close a call it was, how the family cook was convinced you wouldn’t make it. You could only imagine how she must’ve felt in that moment, holding her two weeks premature, frail granddaughter in her arms after watching her daughter-in-law lose her life.

It didn’t take long for you to start crying, something which only got worse as you scrambled through the rest of your small collection of family photos. The family fortune had run out awfully fast during the Dark Days, so there were hardly any taken during your childhood. The few you had left were mostly school photos and ones taken at various social events. Even though you couldn’t afford your own photographer, you’d always kept the unprocessed copies and had them processed and printed whenever you had some extra money to spare. Much to Coriolanus’ dismay you’d always been sentimental, just like your cousin.

You stayed like that for almost an hour. All those photos of you smiling in your brother's arms, the ones where he posed so proudly with his baby sister, made you feel nostalgic for something you’d hardly even experienced. You couldn’t grasp that this boy, your Coryo, could’ve gone from that prideful older brother you saw in those pictures to the man he was today. You wondered if Grandma’am had felt the same way bringing up Crassus.

When you finally got up from your seat on the floor, you carefully put the stack of photographs away again, along with the pearl necklace and perfume bottle you’d kept after Grandma’am’s passing, to remind you of her. You didn’t have anything tangible left of your parents, but you had fond memories of Coriolanus letting you sleep with your mother’s powder compact when you were younger. He’d always been possessive, though - only if you were really upset would he share it with you. 

You checked the time. Almost ten o’clock. You went off to your bathroom to splash your face with some cold water, shivering as you looked up and were met with the sight of the yellowing bruise on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten. At least it was healing quickly, like Eugenie promised. After nearly exhausting yourself with tears, your throat hoarse and eyes puffy and red, you finally felt tired enough to take a nap. So you did. You nearly threw yourself back onto the soft, queen size bed and let your eyes flutter shut.

When you woke again it was noon. This time Eugenie had gone unnoticed when she entered, as you only awoke when you heard the wheels of the food cart she wheeled in after herself awkwardly bumping into the threshold, making the porcelain inside clatter against itself. You were startled at first, but immediately calmed down when you realised it was just her. 

Soon enough lunch too had passed, and this time Eugenie stuck around to keep you company for a little while. She taught you how to knit, and you lent her your favourite book. For a moment you’d almost forgotten the gravity of the situation you were in. Until she scurried to get up, proclaiming she was late to laundry service. You glanced at the longcase clock across the room, a bit surprised to find it was already quarter past four in the evening. You had forty-five minutes until your brother’s stylist would turn up.

You spent that time trying to perfect your knitting technique, ignoring the stiffness in your hands as best as you could. You’d never excelled at crafts like Tigris did, or patience, for that matter.

Finally Rumina arrived, and you were almost relieved. She immediately started to babble on about the latest gossip, and as always, sang your brother’s praises. Though, today it was particularly unbearable, and you thought to yourself that someone working so closely with him and his image should know that it’s just that, an image. That your brother didn’t give a flying fuck about the districts, even if he had improved the living conditions of the tributes in the annual Hunger Games, and that he didn’t even really care about the Capitol either. You’d come to terms with the fact that Coriolanus was only loyal to one thing: power.

You had stayed silent as she blow dried, brushed and twisted and folded your hair up behind your head. When she was done she offered you a handheld mirror to have a look for yourself, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you were met with a tidy french twist. Of course your brother had chosen something conservative that’d thoroughly conceal the bloody lump he’d given you.

Then she had done your makeup. This time she laid the base on thicker than usual, but you weren’t surprised Coriolanus intended to hide your bruise, too. You wondered if it was for his own conscience’s sake or for his image. But it could hardly be the latter, you doubted he would let anyone see you so soon after last night’s events. Then again, you weren’t sure he even had a conscience, either.

When you were done, you looked perfectly rejuvenated. Though to you it felt like an empty shell. Rumina eagerly guided you out into your bedroom and helped you get dressed. It seemed your brother had picked out yet another tasteless, phoney dress that you’d feel nothing like yourself in. Much like the makeup it was more glamorous than you’d expected.

The material was flowy, probably something like chiffon, but it was perfectly cinched at your waist, the sweetheart neckline and the puffy fabric at your hips flattering your figure just right. There was some sort of built in corset that stopped just below your chest. The sleeves were long and puffy much like the skirt, which stopped just above your ankles. You knew Coriolanus was always up to whatever dress code applied, and something this elegant was hardly necessary for a simple dinner. 

But what really stood out to you was the colour. It was a deep shade of burgundy; one you’d seen on Coriolanus oh so many times. You felt your jaw clench. It was bad enough that he insisted on dressing you up, like a mere doll, but this was yet another jab at your independence and individuality. Like you were just an extension of him.

Still, complaining to his own stylist would be of no use, so you decided to suck it up and let her finish dressing you. She clasped a silver necklace around your neck, a garnet pendant in the shape of an octagon hanging from it, framed by more silver. It almost seemed compulsive how your brother just had to show off his wealth every chance he got. Finally you slid on some black velvet kitten heels and had a look in the mirror. 

You looked like something out of a gothic painting. (A tragedy, if you had to guess.) That wouldn’t be too unlike your current situation. Only there wouldn’t be a handsome, brooding young mythological hero to save you. No, your ‘prince charming’ had few positive attributes beyond just that - his superficial charm -, and no intention of saving you. 

You felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter as you walked down the stairs to the main floor, confusion spreading on your face as you saw one of Coriolanus’ many servants waiting for you at the bottom. He stiffly informed you that there’d been a change of plans, that he’d be escorting you to the larger dining room over in the east wing. You hadn’t even explored the house enough to know there were multiple.

When you arrived you quickly understood what the sudden change of plans was for. 

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse

[starysky1289]

Stepsis!Vanessa X Dom!Reader. Late

You hummed quietly as you dug through your pile of unfolded clothes, trying to find something to wear for your interview. You could hear Vanessa in the other room hustling around, she had spent the night and was busy getting ready for work. Her dad, your god awful step father, had given her hell last night about not taking her job seriously and how back in his day he’d of been fired ten times already. You never got why she worried so much about her fathers opinion, but she just needed some sisterly love and support, and you were always open to help her.

You carried the outfit to the bathroom, you’d have to shower quickly so Vanessa could after you.

“ I’m going in! “

“ ok, don’t be to long! “

You put your outfit on the bathroom counter, and quickly stripped down, tossing your clothes in the hamper. You turned the water on, letting it warm up as you turned it to the shower mode. The water felt good as it rained down on your skin, the warmth melted your mind as you started to shampoo. You didn’t wanna get out, no matter what sorta responsibilities you had today.

“ Y/N!! It’s been 20 minutes! “

Vanessa stormed into the bathroom, you shook yourself out of your warm trance. You still had shampoo spuds in your hair.

“ UH- FUCK- “

“ Just move- I’ve gotta shower- “

Only a moment later, she had jumped into the shower with you, quickly getting her hair wet as she grabbed her shampoo. You only blushed and watched, the way the water washed over her blonde locks.

“ are you gonna wash your hair or am i gonna have to do it for you? “

Vanessa teasingly asked, stepping out of the way for you to rinse your hair. You quickly stepped up, running your fingers through your hair. You stepped out of the way, letting her rub the conditioner through her locks.

You scored up behind her, gently placing your hands around her hips, and kissing her neck gently.

“ your so soft nessy…”

“ y-y/n….we can’t..”

“ please…let me be quick…”

You dragged your hand up to her tits, gently rubbing them. She let out a soft moan, and nodded softly.

“ I love you Vanessa…”

“ I love you too y/n…”

Vanessa held your waist, pushing you closer against her. You chuckled softly, the warm water rushed over bodies, as you gently rubbed your fingers over her soft puffy clit. Vanessa let out another moan, pushing into your hand.

“ Will you be good for me? It’ll go quicker if you’re good for me Nessa….”

“ y-yes y/n…I’ll be a..a good girl~ “

You chuckled, and slid in two fingers, gently pumping them into her soft pussy, breathing down her neck at every pump.

“ m-mm…oh b-baby..please it’s feels so -so good…”

“ your doing such a good job..so good for me…”

She was warm, and tight around your fingers. Vanessa melted into you, her whimpers and whines filled the steamy room. You slowly added a third finger, watching her buck her hips against your hand.

“ o-oh Y/N! F-fuck~!! Oh g-god if feels so good!! “

“ that’s it…is my big sis gonna cum all over my hand~? Is she gonna make a mess~? “

“ Y-yes Y/N!! “

You thrusted in faster, biting on her neck to leave small love bites. You groaned at the thought of her ruined in front of you, gently dry humping her ass to give your some friction. Vanessa moaned out loudly, holding your open hand around her waist as she thrusted against your fingers.

“ C-cumming-oh fuck Y/N! O-oh god~!! “

She practically screamed out as she came, riding out her high on your fingers. The water had turned cold at this point, so you gently helped her finish up the shower, aswell as finish yourself.

You both of very late. Vanessa would get an earful from her chief, and you’d probably have a lesser chance of getting the job. But you somewhat couldn’t care, you already had a second interview lined up if this one went bad. As you pulled into the parking lot of the building, you quickly looked down at your phone, Vanessa had texted you quickly.

“ I’m stuck on speeding duty for the rest of the week. But it’s ok, you really helped me out. I’ll be sure to make it up to you soon. I love you sis <3 “

You smiled softly, texting her quickly before dashing in.

“ can’t wait for you, maybe we’ll have a lil sister get together. I love you so much more nessy <3 “