#curly haired!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

Hii! I really love ur writing<3

Could i request Sirius black x fem!reader where her hair is really fluffy but after she has showered her hair is like kindy wavy-ish but she brushes it out and it becomes really fluffy. But then Sirius sees that and is like "u have curly hair" but reader is like "nope". So sirius convinces her and shows her his hair routine and it turns out she does have curly hair and all the fluff and everything?

English is not my first languages so I hope that I'm being clear about what i mean😭 sorry for any mistakes.

Feel free to ignore this if you want<33

No worries my love, this was super clear! I didn't learn how to make my curly hair look good until a few years ago, so this was sooo relatable haha! Thanks for requesting :)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius knocks as you step out of his shower, drying off one leg and then the other with the towel he’d given you.

“Sorry, angel, could I get in there for a sec?” He calls through the door. “I forgot my moisturizer.”

“Sure, just a minute,” you reply, quickly toweling off before wrapping yourself in a robe. “Okay, you’re good.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says, steam whooshing out as he opens the door. He grabs a little jar from the counter, toting it about before starting back the way he came, but he stops before he reaches the door. Sirius looks at you for a moment, his lips curving slightly upward into one of those soft smiles you love so much. “You look so pretty like this,” he says.

You give him a tiny grin in return, pulling the robe tighter over your body self-consciously. “Thanks, Siri.”

“Is…” his eyebrows come together. “Is that what your hair always looks like when it’s wet?”

You look down at your ends, half expecting them to be purple from the expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Um, yeah?”

He crosses his arms, tongue pressing into his cheek thoughtfully. “And what do you usually do to it after you shower?”

“I dunno.” You pick your discarded towel up again. “Brush it? That’s it, really.”

You start to run the towel over your hair, scrubbing out the moisture, and Sirius lunges for you as if you’re holding a weapon to your head instead. “No, stop!”

“What?”

“You can’t rub it like that.” He snatches the towel from you, something like offense in his tone. “That’s nearly the worst thing you can do for curly hair.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Well then lucky for me that I don’t have curly hair.”

“I think you do,” Sirius says, hanging the towel on a hook. “Or wavy, at least. Look at it right now, it looks almost like mine.”

The mirror is too foggy to see in, but you don’t need to. “It’s not like yours, though,” you say, a touch of envy creeping into your voice. “Yours is so pretty and shiny. You’ve seen mine, it gets all frizzy when it’s dry.”

“Okay, compliment heard and accepted.” Sirius grins at you. “But I think your hair just gets like that because you brush it, darling. Let me play with it, please?”

You hesitate. You’ve always shied away from messing with your hair because, as much as it frustrates you, you know how to deal with it the way it is. Oil, buns, plaits. You’d rather have the devil you know than whatever might result from angering it.

But Sirius does seem to know an impressive amount about hair care. His counter is littered with products that testify to that. And you don’t think he’s right, but if he is, and your hair could look anything like his…

“Fine,” you sigh, and Sirius beams at you, taking you by the shoulders and bringing you in front of the mirror.

“Alright, I’m gonna talk you through it, dollface,” he promises. “I mean, I’ll do it for you every time you shower if you want me to, but I’ll give you the details just in case you wanna know later.”

He begins by rewetting your hair under the faucet, instructing you to only brush it while it’s sopping wet. He introduces you to leave-in conditioner, curl cream, mousse, telling you what each of them do and weaving them into your locks with skilled fingers. You can’t help but admire the concentrated set of his brows as he works, the way his dark hair gleams under the fluorescent light. However this turns out, you like having his hands in your hair like this. You might ask him to do it again just for that.

“There we go,” he says, affixing one of his t-shirts to hold your hair close to your head. “We’ll leave that on for a bit, and when it comes off we should have a decent idea of how it’s gonna look when it’s dry.”

You smile at him, and Sirius fixes you with a look that’s unbelievably fond. “Normally, this is when I do my skin routine, while I’ve got my hair out of the way,” he says, speaking softly though there’s no one else around to hear. “Want me to do yours for you, lovely girl?”

You feel your face warm, but you don’t care if he sees, the affection between you too great to be a well-kept secret. “That’d be nice, thanks.”

Sirius’ touch is gentle as he goes over your face with a warm washcloth, smoothing your various products into your skin while you do your best not to preen.

“So pretty,” he murmurs once he’s done, planting a kiss on your freshly moisturized cheek. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were glowing from the inside out.

You chase him, capturing his lips with yours, and the both of you giggle at the absurdity of it, kissing whilst sitting on his bathroom counter, you all wet in a robe and him fully clothed.

“Alright,” Sirius says, stroking your jaw as a consolation when he breaks the kiss. “I think your hair should be ready to come down.”

You find yourself almost excited as he unwraps the t-shirt from your hair, tracking the progress of his grin while he squeezes the last bits of moisture from your ends before taking you by the shoulders.

“Okay,” he says soberly, looking at you with mock gravitas. “Are you ready to see?”

You roll your eyes whilst you nod, and he turns you. The fog has faded from the mirror, so you’re able to see yourself clearly as your mouth actually drops open. Your hair is still damp, but even so, the bottom half falls in loose waves, the ends curling just slightly. It’s smooth, and shiny, and nothing like you thought it had the potential to be.

“Not bad, right?” Sirius sounds smug, but you can feel his excitement as he watches your reaction. “I might use less heavy products in the future, and more mousse, but—”

You spin around, wrapping him in a hug. He laughs, arms coming around your back with just as much enthusiasm.

“It looks so pretty, Siri,” you gush. “Thank you so much!”

“I’ve always said you’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he sounds exasperated, but his grip tightens on you warmly, “so I really don’t see why you’re acting so surprised.”

474 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 10 months

Text

sings like a church with a choir in it

Summary: A blurb not at all inspired by the tragic events I got myself into yesterday due to poor planning and wasting away in bed due to sad girl hours.

Pairing: Steve Harrington OR Eddie Munson (choose your lover!) x curly/coily/wavy fem!reader

WC: 1232K

Warnings/Themes: anxiety, self-care, acts of service, hair wash day & its trials, shower sex (male receiving)

A/N: Eddie and Steve have intricate haircare routines, I know this in my bones. So obviously they help us with wash-day because it's exhausting! This is for my curly/coily/wavy!girls; I see you, I love you, and my arms are tired too 😮‍💨

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.

Enjoy! 💜

🎵My baby runs ten miles to win it, she moves like her body's got a fire in it🎵

Damn your shitty timing and utter laziness— the dreaded day has finally arrived, a day that will live in infamy.

Despite a schedule that mostly kept things at bay, stress and anxiety had taken over landing you in bed for an extended stay.

But you couldn’t let the precious motivation you’d saved up go to waste. And that’s how you found yourself staring down the barrel of a wash day and an everything shower.

Fuck.

The bed had been stripped and sheets were in the washer, so you couldn’t even sneak back into the bedroom and recreate a cocoon to wallow in.

With a sigh, you crouch down and grab the necessary supplies: co-wash, leave-in, body exfoliant, razor, and the body wash you’d spent far too much on, but just couldn’t pass up— the scent was otherworldly.

Shower products in place and temperature as hot as it would go, you placed the styling tools in order of use on the countertop and wrangled the hair dryer to balance on the side of the sink.

Towel on the rung close to the shower and t-shirt at the ready, you tug the hairwrap from your head and step into the steamy shower, running your fingers against your scalp to further distribute the oil you’d applied last night.

Once under the stream of water, you take a moment to let the warmth sink into your skin. Rolling your neck as the droplets skim down your neck and chest, a deep breath in and out.

Then you get to work.

Body exfoliant first, quickly followed by shaving your legs. Checking for any nicks, you smile at finding none— phase one, complete.

Music echoing through the bathroom, glass and mirrors too fogged to see through— the opening of the shower door startles you, understandably.

“The fuck?!” You yelp, scalp brush in one hand and co-wash in the other. It’s a miracle you hadn’t dropped either.

The magnetized door of the glass shower clicks open. Just a muted, dull separation that lets a fraction of cool air rush in, towing his body in with it.

He smirks, eyeing you up and down as he joins you. You shuffle over to make room, rolling your eyes. A tsk when he takes the brush from your hand, “Gotta save water babe.”

Take the brush from your hand and reaches over to adjust the temperature of the water. His body is warm and solid behind you, beckoning you to lean against him. His arm falls lazily around your hips, “Lemme help you, sugar.”

As you nod and say something about detangling, he grabs a claw clip and holds it between his teeth while his hands work to section your hair. Mumbles something that sounds like, “Think I don’t know how to take care of my girl?” But you’re not sure, the plastic in his mouth preventing an accurate translation.

Half of your hair clipped up and away, he pumps a few dollops of co-wash in his palm and distributes it through the loose sections. Through the mirror by the showerhead, you can see his brows tilt together in concentration.

Too fucking cute.

He takes it seriously, knowing how tedious the wash-day process can be. Is careful not to pull or tug, not that you’re tender-headed necessarily— just hates to hurt you, the old softie. Fingers card through the conditioned waves, the top section falling with a wet smack down your back.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, bottom lip full and red against the bite of his white teeth.

Snaking an arm to grasp his forearm, you give a gentle squeeze, “S’okay baby.”

Diligently, he continues the process on this section— taking more time to finger curl and define the strands for more volume.

Your heart clenches at the thought, god, how you adore him.

He’s humming along to the music under his breath, working the scalp brush gently over the crown of your head. The soft bristles are soothing, you let out a soft sigh and all but melt against the hard line of his torso.

A sonorous laugh that echoes through the stall of the shower and reverberates in his chest. He asks you to turn, voice soft and low. Grabs the retractable shower head to rinse your hair, fingers working against your scalp, a lazy smile gracing his lips.

“Hey sleepyhead,” He says, licking his lips in the hazy steam, a click when he slots the showerhead back into place. “Feelin’ better?”

“Mm,” You hum, head resting on his chest teeth bared against slick warm skin, “Almost.” Then your fingers light on his half-hard cock, which is suddenly very interested in your hand.

His eyes roll back. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, honey,” you say, but you’re not, because you know how he likes it.

He hisses quietly, back hitting the tiles as you step between his legs. “Oh.” He stutters breathlessly, watching your gotcha expression.

You slide to your knees like a supplicant, mouth dropping open so prettily. You purr and lick and nuzzle into him as if you can’t get enough, like be content there between his thighs until the end of time.

Doesn’t matter what he says, half-hearted attempts to remind you about getting to your leave-in fall away in small gasps and swears. You just keep rubbing with your palm, your nimble fingers, your tight grip.

It should be illegal for someone to be as hot as you, he swears it.

He groans when you give him a slow lick up to his throbbing tip, swirling your tongue at the end, then shoving him down until you choke yourself on it. He jerks up reflexively, getting in two quick thrusts before you pull away with a smile.

You’re looking at him like you could devour him, lower lip pinched tightly between your teeth, breath shallow and quick. His abs constrict when you put your hands on them, feeling your way up his ribs and back down, fingers dancing along planes of bone and muscle.

Lips puckered and glossy with spit and precome that doesn’t stop leaking out of him, making these obscene fucking sounds at the base of his shaft, at the curve of his balls, tugging them into your mouth, keeping them there while he prays for mercy.

“Baby,” he growls, patience gone. “I swear to god.”

He means to threaten you with something— a rough fuck, maybe—but he effectively loses his train of thought when you give him exactly what he’s fantasized about since he’s woken up.

Your candy pink mouth turned red hot and wicked. Wet and slick as you slide him down your throat. You keep your jaw slack and bob your head steadily as if suggesting that he take the lead.

To your delight, he slowly begins rolling his hips. Experimental at first, half-hearted and worried about startling or choking you, but at the first reflex of a gag, your eyes light up before fluttering half-closed and you practically mewl.

“Jesus Christ. Oh, fuck, honey.”

Hooded dark eyes meet yours, looking down the bridge of his nose, lips parted to match. Panting. Grunting.

“Don’t stop,” Your voice is a ragged debauched thing.

Suddenly bold because he’s at the end of his rope and about to blow—completely collapse and pour down your throat and all over your pretty little face.

And goddamn, he thinks.

He’s never loved a girl like you.

So much for saving water.

#steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #curly haired!reader #wavy haired! reader #Spotify

125 notes · View notes

strawberyy-cows · 1 year

Text

no rings[e.m.]

✰ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut(minors dni), oral(m recieving), unsexy hair pulling

✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

✰ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: .3k words

✰ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Eddie's hands get stuck in your hair and you ban rings during sex

You and Eddie were hanging out completely innocently in his van. Then he got horny because of course he did. He's always horny.

That's how you ended up on your knees in the back of Eddie's van with his hands wrapped in your hair while your mouth was wrapped around his cock.

You used one of your free hands to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. You wanted him to enjoy himself.

And he was for a bit.

Until he tried moving his hand to make you look up at him.

His rings had tangled in your hair and he internally panicked. He used his other hand to try and get the rings off but he couldn't so now he started to panic.

He guessed the panic was evident on his face when you looked up and stopped. You took him out of your mouth and stared at him, confused.

"You okay there?"

"So... babe... theoretically... What if my rings got stuck in you hair?" He asked nervously.

Your eyes widened and your hands flew to your previously neat-ish hair. "Edward Munson! What the fuck?"

Eddie looked mortified. "I didn't mean to!" He said loudly, finally slipping his index finger out of his ring. He kept accidentally pulling your hair and you though he was going to rip out a giant chunk of your hair.

You glared at your boyfriend as he frantically tried pulling his stuck fingers out of his rings. "If I have to cut my hair I'm castrating you." You said angrily.

He was able to get the rest of his fingers out, laughing triumphantly and holding his rings up. "I got 'e- oh..." His pride was quickly smashed when he saw your expression.

"Edward."

"Yes?"

"No more rings."

"Okay..." He said guiltily.

✰ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sw34terw34ther

#🌷 athena writes 🌷#eddie munson #🍓 [eddie munson] 🍓#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagines #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #curly haired!reader

129 notes · View notes

mixedstyles · 2 years

Text

Headcanon: Harry’s partner having curly hair

Masterlist

Author’s Note: WE. NEED. MORE. CURLY. HAIR. REPRESENTATION. as someone with 3a-3b curly hair, here are some headcanons. This is dedicated to all you curly headed cuties 😤

Pronouns Used: gender neutral! they/them

POV: Third Person.

Warnings: f-word, non-gendered use of “honey”

Additional Information: Harry is in italics. Reader is in bold.

divider is made by @firefly-graphics!

His partner finally moving in with him and they take up the whole middle shelf in the linen closet with their hair products. “I feel like I’ve walked into a hair salon” “Sometimes it feels like I could open my own store with how many hair products I’ve accumulated.”

His s/o being a little nervous to wear their bonnet or silk scarf in front of him for the first time. “Please don’t say anything.” “Uhhh okay?” *s/o walks out of the bathroom and into the bedroom* “Stop. You look absolutely adorable. Do I get one, too?”

“Why do you have so many different bottles of conditioner?” “That’s regular conditioner and that’s leave-in conditioner” “There’s a difference??”

Harry buying his partner a set of 100% silk pillow cases as a surprise gift because he knows they’ve been saving their money to upgrade their satin ones.

“I’m only now just using fancy pillowcases? Where have you been all my life?” “Are you talking to me or the pillow case?” “… both?”

*s/o comes back to their apartment fuming* “Today someone told me that my hair would look ‘less messy’ if I brushed it out and it really pissed me off.” “Oh honey, I’m sorry. Want me to sue them for idiocy?” “I don’t think that’s a thing, but I appreciate the support.”

A red carpet interviewer makes the casual comment of “your hair looks a bit curlier than normal, new hair routine?” And him answering with “you can thank my partner for that one, they’ve introduced me to the world of hair care and products.”

“What the fuck is this thing? It looks like some sort of sci-fi weapon.” “That’s literally a hair dryer with a diffuser on it.” “A what?” “Gosh, sometimes I feel like you’re a lost cause. It’s an attachment that reduces frizz and doesn’t ruin your natural curl pattern.” “I still think it’s a movie prop.”

I feel like if traveling takes him away from his s/o for a long time and he begins to miss them, he might go and buy/order their favorite hair product and use it on his hair because it smells like them 🥺🥲

His partner was never one for the spotlight, but once Harry’s fans began to ask him about which products he used, his partner made a public IG account dedicated to curly/wavy hair maintenance. As well as how to take care of your hair without needing expensive products.

They probably ended up as an accidental hair influencer because of it.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles headcanon #curly haired!reader #Harry styles x gender neutral!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles smau #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagines #harry styles x oc #harry’s house

183 notes · View notes

supercutszns · 4 months

Text

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

��It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell #this is far longer than i wanted it to be so sorry.#don’t usually write in 2nd person or present tense so i’m just trying not to look at it #the evil men with curly hair have won again

6K notes · View notes

justabrunettewhowrites-stuff · 3 months

Text

'Jealousy'

Clarisse La Rue x DaughterOfApollo!Reader

In which Clarisse gets jealous after you kiss Luke

Clarisse strolled through the lively grounds of Camp Half-Blood and her expression was as fierce as ever.However, beneath that tough exterior, there was a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within her.

It all began with you,a daughter of Apollo known for your radiant smile and musical talents. You and Clarisse had been friends, or rather,reluctant allies since your days in the camp.The tension between you was palpable,fueled by your differing personalities and the constant competition for recognition as formidable demigods.

One sunny afternoon, the simmering conflict boiled over into a heated argument.You and Clarisse clashed in a verbal spar near the training arena,your voices echoing off the surrounding trees.The words you exchanged were sharp and cutting,each accusing the other of perceived weaknesses and failures.

Amidst the escalating tension, a familiar figure approached, Luke Castellan, the charismatic son of Hermes. Luke had a way of navigating through conflicts with a sly grin, but on this occasion, he found himself inadvertently caught in the crossfire of you and Clarisse's feud.

As the argument reached its zenith,you, perhaps fueled by a combination of frustration and a desire to one-up Clarisse, did the unthinkable.With a defiant glint in your eyes,you turned to Luke and planted a passionate,lingering kiss on his lips.

Clarisse's rage flared to new heights, and her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. However, something unexpected happened. Instead of escalating into a full-blown brawl, the tension shifted, and an electric charge lingered in the air. The intense gaze between you transformed, and the anger that had fueled your argument morphed into something else entirely-pure,unadultered fury.

She grabbed your hand forcefully - not even attempting to be gentle,and dragged you all the way back to her cabin - which luckily for her and unluckily for you - was empty at the time.She slammed you against the wall,towering over you,her hands placed on the wall behind you,resting besides the sides of your face.She looked right at you,her eyes burning holes through you as she leaned in,whispering in your ear

"You wanted to make me jealous?Was that your fucking plan?Of course it was.Then...I'll show you just how jealous I can be when someone touches what's mine,angel."

A/N:I need her so bad it's not even funny anymore

456 notes · View notes

90ekz · 4 months

Note

do you think you could write hcs of jean with a softspoken gf? nobody writes for him fr it’s so sad

an! i love jean and this concept anon ! im a soft spoken girl myself so this really hits home 🥹 i hope you enjoy!!

jean as your boyfriend <3

SFW

when you two first started dated, jean was convinced that he hit the lottery. you were everything he ever wanted and he loved a girl that kept to herself.

jean sometimes takes you to wing houses & burger joints and watches with a huge smile as you try to order your food against the chaos of the other people conversing around you. you weren’t the biggest fan of having to yell in public, but you tried your best, and his heart melts everytime.

when you first met him at connie’s house warming party, you bumped into him, spilling the contents of your cup onto his white button up. jean had turned beet red as you stood on your tippy toes to whisper a hurried apology into his ear over the sound of the blaring music, while rushing to go get paper towels.

his favorite thing about you is how attentively you listen. it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, you’ll be making eye contact and nodding along to whatever he has to say.

gets irritated with you during arguments, because you well… don’t engage. he could be giving a verbal, ten page, double spaced paper about how irritated he is with you, and you’ll just look at him like you’re bored.

“all i’m saying is that you don’t have to get aggressive with me over this. yes, i was at armin’s late and didn’t say anything, but i’ll tell you next time, okay? i’m sorry.” “okay.” “i said sorry, damn! stop yelling!”

you aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation, but he is. connect the dots yourself.

“SHE SAID NO GODDAMN TOMATO!” “it’s fine, i can just take them off—“ “not now, baby. gimme a sec, okay? anyway, FIX HER FUCKING BURGER!”

the two of you communicate so silently that it freaks your friends the hell out. when you want to go home, when you’re tired, when he’s needy, when he’s irritated? easy, simple eye contact will send you or him springing into action to fix the problem.

you may be quiet, but you love to laugh. jean doesn’t think he can think of anything more angelic-sounding than the sound of your genuine laughter, only for him.

jean had to learn how to be more tender when doing daily tasks. he was so used to slamming doors and stomping up stairs that he didn’t remember to adjust that behavior when you moved in.

(the first week you moved in, he’d thrown open the door to your bedroom and felt his chest squeeze as you almost tumbled out of your desk chair. now he puts three gentle taps on every door when he needs to come in.)

physical touch fanatic. end of discussion.

NSFW

lemme tell you, this man takes it to heart when you try to hold in your moans. you’re a little embarrassed with how loud you get, but nothing turns jean on more.

“nuh uh, lemme hear you—need to hear how good i’m making you feel, princess..”

during your first time together, he’d almost cum in his pants at the mere sound of your loud groans bouncing off the walls.

loves when you pull his hair more than anything. he takes it as a sign to go harder, fuck you deeper, and he obliges everytime. his cock throbs harder each time you run your fingers through his loose curls.

about 5.7 inches roughly, but thick. his cock flares as it goes downward; the head being the slimmest part. giving him head is fun, you think.

jean has this weird little fixation with your neck. it doesn’t matter what position he has you in, he’ll have a hand—or his mouth—running across the skin of your throat. backshots? he’s got a hand pressing against your nape to keep you in place. missionary? he’s massaging his thumb over your throat so tenderly that it should be illegal. cowgirl? he’s squeezing the sides of your neck while whispering about how good of a girl you’re being for him. he’s pretty damn weird.

his favorite thing to do is eat you out. you deny it, but your voice shoots up a whole octave when he massages your gspot with his two fingers of choice as he suckles on your swollen clit.

utterly surprised at how much you talk during sex. it almost embarrasses him how much you beg, scream, and whine for him. a mixture of ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s being infused in his head for eternity.

“oouu—shit, you’re so fucking loud…”

presses down on your stomach to feel where he is so he can try and go deeper… yeah.

tries to fuck your throat hoarse just to hear your raspy voice for a few hours. you’re such a trooper, just sitting there and taking it for him, even if he laughs at you after.

“babe, i’m so sorry—hahaha!” “this isn’t funny, i sound like t-pain!” “I LIKE THE BARRRTENDERRR—ouch, im sorry, i said i’m sorry!”

aftercare god. he’ll spend hours taking care of you, washing your back in the tub, greasing your scalp, making you tea and cookies, the whole nine. this man loves you deep.

571 notes · View notes

chamomiletealeaf · 4 months

Text

Simon with natural curly hair reader who is so fascinated and in love with your hair and how voluminous and poofy and shiny and curly it is. He loves how it bounces and how well it shapes your face. It’s just so pretty just like you.

He wants so badly to touch it but he knows that he might get murdered if he touches a curly girl's hair without permission.

Whenever you two hug or snuggle your hair gets all in his face and he tries to hide his excitement from being able to feel it on his face and how good it smells.

He’s so intrigued by the way you put product in your hair and your special hairbrushes you use and how it looks so different when it’s wet vs. dry. He loves watching it slowly curl and shrink back up as it’s drying.

Then, finally, one day you’re making tea for the both of you in the kitchen and you see him staring at your hair in a trance.

“Simon.”

“Hm?” He says, not looking away from your hair.

You giggle to yourself.

“You can touch it if you want.” You say with a smile.

Simon’s eyes widen like a kid getting the christmas gift his parents swore he wasn’t getting. He hesitates but slowly comes up to you, pulling you to him by your hips and he takes a tiny coil sticking out by your eyebrow and pulls it softly, stretching it out to it’s full length, then letting it go and watching as it bounces back into it’s shape.

Simon lets out a giggle. Yes. A giggle. Like a little boy. And he leans in to kiss you, hair all in his face, just the way he likes it.

#can you tell I have curly hair #black hair #mixed hair #curly girl #black reader #mixed reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #ghost #simon riley x reader

831 notes · View notes

spenceswife · 1 year

Text

Not like others

Dave Lizewski x fem!Reader

Warning: implied sex, fluff

First time writing in a while hope you like! (The summary is kinda ass sorry. Trying to get back into writing 😭)

Summary- After you and Dave finished having sex you thought you had to leave right after due to never having aftercare. But he made sure you got what you needed.

After a while I finally slid off of Dave breathless at the activities we’ve just done. This wasn’t my first time doing the deed but it was my second.

And the first time was terrible it was honestly a mistake. The guy left in the same ten minutes after we finished and ghosted me ever since.

So that’s why I was scared for this to be over. Dave and I weren’t established as a couple but we knew we weren’t friends and only talked to each other romantically. I think it’s just fear for both of us to take that next big step.

But would Dave be that guy to just tell me I should go and never speak to me again?

We laid in his bed both staring up at the ceiling both trying to catch our breath in silence.

Slightly looking over his eyes were closed with his hand over his chiseled stomach. God what workouts did he do?

Thinking he was a sleep or trying to ignore this embarrassing moment I stood up quietly putting my clothes on.

The bed creaked lightly making him open his eyes. “Hey where you going” he asked sitting up deciding to put his boxers back on.

“Oh I was just gonna head out…” a tiny smile appeared on my face putting my hoodie over my head.

“Oh… why?” his face had saddened making me feel worse then I already did about having to leave.

“I just thought you had wanted me to leave…” we stared at each other for a couple seconds.

“I don’t want you to leave, this is the time where we talk and you know…” he wanted me to finish his sentence but I had no clue where it was going

“We cuddle! It’s like a rule after sex we both have to make sure we’re okay. I mean this only like my third time doing it but that’s how we end it.” I looked at him confused.

“I’ve never done that before… sorry” I sat back on his bed crisscrossed as he took my hand in his.

“You’ve never had aftercare? God i’m sorry Yn.” he pulled me into a tight hug.

It was nice feeling him against me and not just in a sexual way. It was reassuring.

When he pulled away he motioned me to lay my head on his chest as he laid back.

“Can I ask who never gave you aftercare?” he whispered slightly smoothing his hand down my hair not wanting to mess up my curls.

“Uh I’ve only done it once before with a football player from school. Worse mistake of my life.” I laugh trying to lift the mood.

“He had came over and I thought we were gonna watch a movie then he just got right to it and left. What a way to lose your virginity am I right?” a tear fell down my cheek.

When he noticed quiet sniffles he looked down wiping my cheek.

“Hey don’t cry, I won’t ever do that to you never” he promised leaning down to kiss my lips.

“We’re gonna do this again?” my eyes widen “I mean if you want… but I was hoping we could do it as boyfriend and girlfriend” he shly whispered.

“You wanna be my boyfriend?” I tried keeping a smile off my face

“Of course”.

#dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #fluff #aftercare #black reader #curly hair #curly hair reader #friends to lovers #kick ass #kickass 2 #fem reader #reassurance #implied sex #cuddle

2K notes · View notes

curlymeme · 2 months

Text

annabeth chase

#annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #annabeth pjo #annabeth percy jackson #leah is our annabeth #annabeth fanart #leah is my annabeth #annabeth x reader #percy and grover #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson #percabeth #curly hair #leah sava jeffries

299 notes · View notes

noirflms · 9 months

Text

୧ ˚₊ LUCKY RITUAL — sakusa kiyoomi

it’s your and his thing before he goes to stand on the court and win the game.

kiyoomi is not an affectionate man, yet he had his heart out to you – all yours to keep. he isn’t a big fan of his love in the public, a rather private escapade is what love is to him. from kisses he steals from you away from the eyes of the paparazzi in the bounds of your shared home is love to him – not the way that miya atsumu has a new girl on his arm every now and then.

it was not easy for you to make the man open up to you. it was way difficult that you had thought it will be. he was sheltered, a boy bound to his very own bubble and not letting anyone enter it. he hated when anyone crossed this bubble of his – even his cousin komori was cautious of it.

it was not in him let someone in so easily. he was a man within his walls, a man who didn’t like others to enter in them. but that changed when he met you.

you were rather eccentric and quite the opposite of him. you were open when he was so hard to read, you loved people and he hated them. you were like the sun while he was the moon and he wasn’t far away from this ideal prospect which he had created in his mind. to him – you were never meant to be his, yet here he is now, surrounded by his teammates in the locker rooms who kiss their partners with a goal to win in mind.

“ you’re thinking too hard , omi. ” he is brought of his stupor at the sound of your voice. you stand beside him with his hand holding onto yours. he has no heart to let go yet and you make out when his grip on your hand turn tighter and you don’t miss the chance to squeeze it in reassurance.

“ you make me think too hard. ” he musters, his voice muffled due to the mask he wears and the words sure do make your eyes widen but you soon your lips break into a huge grin. the sound of your chuckles makes his eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumbs drawing circles on the back of your hand – a thing he does when he feels nervous around many every now and then.

“ you’ll do good. i know. ”

your words make him sigh. it’s heavy as it takes through his whole body. he washes out the noisy teammates of his as he leans down to rest his head on your shoulder. he hates the way you make him feel and he certainly hates the butterflies you give him even after all these years. he feels your fingers brush through his curly tuft of hair and another sigh of relief is released.

the sound of the loud voice of the announcer echoes through the locker room. all players of his team ready to head out, assuring their partners they’ll be fine, they’ll be good. it is then all are pouring out of the room, calls of kiyoomi’s name are said aloud, telling him to be quick, hinata waving his hand at you and so does bokuto with a huge smile on his face, atsumu being pulled by the ear by their captain as he waves at you with a pain stricken look while sakusa watches it all.

as all walk out, it is you and him that are left behind. he has hands still on your waist, he doesn’t want to move. but he knows he has to, he has to rush out their and win, be the good ol’ sakusa kiyoomi he has always been.

“ will you win? ” your voice makes his eyes turn to you, his fingers are turning to pull his mask off, and amidst the silence his lips land on yours, he gets the taste of your cherry chapstick – it is always the one you wear to his matches. it is your and his little ritual before the match, to share a kiss before he smashes his opponents in the court.

it’s a lucky ritual of his, one he never forgets to do before any match. it took him a while to turn accustomed to it, but he likes it, he likes the way he gets to kiss you with the rush of adrenaline in him before the match, he likes it when a kiss shared with you ignites him whole. he likes to kiss you is all and that he is something he’d never deny. your laugh into the kiss finding it sudden, and you know his lips would smell off your cherry chapstick as well.

“ of course, i’ve got my luck with me. ”

that is all you hear before he steals a kiss of your lips and is rushing through the hallway to his team as you laugh looking at the tall man in a hurry. he’s always been like this, yet it is you who makes him a man like this and he would never change a thing about this.

highlighter sakusa >>>>

#౨ৎ ⋆˚｡⋆ 𝒔.tamped #i love my curly haired pookie sakusa #x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #msby sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #sakusa fluff #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa drabble

617 notes · View notes

meowpupp · 2 months

Text

ik it's not smut (and not any of the reqs that are in my inbox) but I cannot stop thinking about price giving pup!reader a bath.

curly hair specific for 2 paragraphs, everything else is generic

hes so gentle, making sure the whole bathroom smells nice. he uses soft vanilla scents so your little nose doesn't get overwhelmed, and turns off any noise or lights to make sure you're calm.

the water is always the perfect temperature, and he lets you pick out one of the bathbombs he bought especially for you. the water turns pink, or purple, or blue, whichever you prefer, with a thick layer of bubbles ontop.

everything is in your favourite scent. whether that's smooth and creamy vanillas, sharp and tangy citrus, or soft pillowy florals, he has it all. he just enjoys seeing the little smile on your face, how your cute little ears droop more and more as you become more relaxed.

he walks you through an entire bath routine, breaking everything down into little steps, guiding you through it all. salts, bar soap, shower gel, oil, moisturiser. he spares no expense, wanting to make sure you smell and feel good.

his favourite part however is helping you with you hair. a thick, pretty mess of wild curls. he knows almost more than you do, buying all types of oils, creams, hair masks, shampoos and conditioner.

he uses a whole concoction of things, making sure everything he uses is designed specifically for your hair type. gentle hands massage the shampoo into your scalp, smiling as you sigh and relax into him. you don't even have to lift a finger. wash day is completely taken care of.

when you come out of the bath, all warm and relaxed, he sweeps you up. dressing you in the fluffiest towel, running through creams, gels, and oils so your hair looks all shiny and pretty. he helps you rub in different oils and moisturisers so your skin is smooth and soft, even runs through some special cream for your fluffy tail.

post-bath is what he always looks forward to. he loves how sleepy you get. he lays you on his chest, both of you shirtless, enjoying the skin to skin contact. your tail slowly wags, a gentle rhythm hittig his thigh as you share warmth. his hands run up and down your back, occasionally squeezing your hips. it's his favourite part of owning you, knowing that you're safe, clean, and comfortable.

#i just want price to do my fucking wash day #curly hair is such a pain in the ass #hes so soft w his pup i love it #same shit w gaz #hed have to put your wash days on seperate days #poor man would be too tired to do both of you at the same time #im just obsessed with him being all loving and caring #AHHHHHHHH #mw x reader #mw2 x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #price x chubby!puppygirl

189 notes · View notes

slvtforjaymz · 4 months

Text

2019 james makes me feel🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#james hetfield #james hetfield smut #papa het #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #metallica #james hetfield fluff #metallica x reader #james hetfield x reader #the things i want him to do to me #hes so bigggggg #his curly soft hair mmm

163 notes · View notes

horror-beeings-artandwriting · 2 months

Note

hihihi I love your works!!! ^_^

Could I request Vox x reader with curly hair?? I have curly hair and it takes a SUUUPER long time to make it look right,, idk just thought it would be cute!! Xoxo

Of course!!!(fun fact I actually have curly hair so I understand your pain-)

He will try and learn how to take care of your hair! He hasn’t taken care of hair in so long, I mean, look at him!

He will buy you the most EXPENSIVE curly hair product possible, 110 dollars for a conditioner? Bought. Special curly hair shampoo that costs 80? Consider it part of your collection! Styling products? You’ve got so many you lost count! He just, gives them to you. On random days!

He will try to help style your hair for you, and while he does that, he’ll just say “god you’re so beautiful” or “I can’t get over how fluffy your hair is.”

He WILL play with your hair, or pet your hair, or anything, he loves the way it feels.

He would get so sad if you straightened your hair, after the fact would BEG you to never do it again!

Hope you enjoy! <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #headcanons #fluff #curly hair #bee writes stuff #thanks for requesting!

122 notes · View notes

mrsackermannx · 11 months

Text

the jjk men and your curly hair ೃ࿐

note: curly haired reader/and or poc reader, headcanons/vignettes of some of the jjk men and your curly hair, for my curly people hehe <3

###

gojo who loves your curly hair because he says it makes you look like a disney princess. gojo who loves to play with your hair, he finds himself doing it without even thinking. coiling your curls into thick clumped ringlets as he twirls them around his fingers. he smiles as he hums, “think our kids will have your hair too? i hope they do.”

geto who loves to braid and style it for you, who learns how to cornrow and french braid in a week. who has you sat between his legs so he can part your hair and braid the prettiest and most perfect styles into it. his chest goes all warm when he sees you all ready for the day with braids in your hair he did. as he kisses your forehead he tells you “you’re the most perfect thing” he’s ever seen <3

nanami who takes time lovingly shampooing and conditioning it in the shower, letting your body fall against his as he conducts his tender worship. blow-drying it afterwards and growing rosy cheeked at the way your curls bounce as you saunter around the house in your robe. he pulls you close, with his eyes darkened, “let’s go to bed, shall we?”

choso who loves the scent of your hair products and loves it best when it’s out or in a claw clip/messy bun. choso whose eyes can’t leave your nape, as curls fall loosely out from your clip and kiss it. and as those sweet curls fall a little in your face, and your hair is held in a pretty bunch in that clip he bought you. he comes up from behind and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing needy kisses along your jaw, “darling, you’re so so pretty.”

toji who thinks your hair is super sexy, his cheeks even get a little pink when you’re straddling him and it tickles his skin. his confession to you goes a little like, him scowling at you a little and finding himself tongue tied for the first time in his life, “it’s that pretty face of yours, the curly hair! that mouth of yours that fuckin…” he sighs, “those lips.”

#jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #choso x reader #hehe who did it best?#hair is so intimate to me <3 #they would all adore your curly hair <3 #poc writer stuff hehe <3 #choso 🥺🥺🥺🦋

739 notes · View notes

ocelettelatte · 5 months

Text

How are they when they do your hair?

Includes: Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji x Curly Hair!Reader. (+Todo Bonus) Author's Note: First and possibly the last post I'll make. Made this just for fun so the characters might be OOC. Self-indulgent, but I did try to make the reader ambiguous. Divider by @/saradika

Gojo

Gojo learns how to do your hair pretty quickly.

He watches you do it once and he’s able to do it almost immediately.

He’ll go all out for you. That hairstyle you saw online? Boom you got it.

That one hair product you wanted but were always told you needed some kind of license to get it? I don’t know how, but he got it.

Your hair gets the slightest bit messed up and he’s pissed for you. Just straight whiny about it.

Has given you mini heart attacks before. “My bad I messed up, we gotta go bald.” while braiding your hair...

Buys all kinds of charms and accessories for your hair.

While he knows you shouldn’t do it often, he actually likes your hair straight. It always amazes him how long your hair actually is.

He also loves curl-defining. Going one by one curling each ringlet with his finger is oddly satisfying to him.

Definitely uses all of your products. When you ask about it, he’ll deny it.

Nanami

Nanami likes your hair however you like it. braids, twists, dreads, loose, straightened, wigs, short. If you’re happy with it then he’s happy.

If you ask him to do your hair, he’ll keep it simple. Nothing too flashy but not too basic.

He does this because he always feels bad when you have the prettiest hairstyles, knowing you’ve spent hours on it and it just gets messed up because of your line of work.

The face you make when you tell him it’s fine always tugs at his heart.

However, this doesn't mean he won't give you a glamorous hairstyle for date nights.

Nanami has bought little charms for you to put in your hair and keeps everything you leave at his place in a little basket.

Helps you with your hair when you’re getting ready for bed.

Buys a silk pillowcase just for you.

If he sees you're running out of product he'll use the last of it and buy you new ones.

If there's a particular product you have to order online, Nanami knows exactly when to order said product.

Geto

You always let the twins do your hair, Nanako being the most interested in it. You see it as a learning experience for them.

However, You never let Geto touch your hair. You weren’t too fond of his choice of words when referring to non-sorcerers.

After a bit of warming up to one another, you finally allowed him to do your hair.

Geto absolutely loves braiding your hair.

I’ve always thought that Geto might have picked up on some mundane hobbies once he started his cult. One of those hobbies being Ikebana. Which is why he loves hair braiding.

After learning how many intricate things you could do with this style, it would become his go-to thing.

He has the gentlest hands when doing hair.

With permission, he would put flowers in your hair. Sometimes he’ll go the extra mile of getting you to wear a Hakama or Kimono just to tie the whole look together.

Granted, he knows that he has to give your scalp a break. On those days he actually likes your hair loose.

Choso

All of his experiences doing hair have only been on himself. So when he meets you, he learns so much about his and your hair.

Unfortunately, Choso is scared to touch your hair. The last time he did he tangled it pretty badly.

He is so gentle that things end up getting loose and he has to start over.

Still learning all the different hairstyles. Confuses twists for dreads.

Constantly asking if you’re okay and making sure that he’s not hurting you.

Sometimes he hesitates when doing your hair and you reassure him that he’s doing fine.

Either uses too much product or not enough. There’s no in-between.

If you ask him to buy shampoo and conditioner, he'll get a little overwhelmed and come back with three in one.

Loves giving you any hairstyle that has twin tails. He also likes to put little ribbons in your hair sometimes.

Toji

“Stop moving your damn head.” Kind of vibes.

Definitely rough and says that he’s not.

Most definitely would pop you with the comb.

All jokes aside, Toji is pretty good at doing your hair. Though it’s like pulling teeth trying to convince him to do it.

Prefers if you’ve done whatever you needed to your hair so he can style it however.

Toji doesn’t have a favorite style for you. At the end of the day, it’s just hair to him.

Your accessories are floating around his place. He even stepped on one.

Here's a bonus because Toji was so short!

Todo

Todo definitely has everything he needs to do your hair. Unfortunately, just like that one hair lady in your life, he’s hard to get a hold of.

This Takada mega fan will cancel on you when he finds out there’s an event in the area. Those days you’ve contemplated going bald…

The only reason why you keep going back to him is because he's so damn good at it. It’s just one-on-one... and the occasional mentions of Takada, but you can deal with that.

Has tried to convince you to lock your hair a handful of times.

Gave you starter locks to see if you like it. If you don’t he’ll do whatever you like.

“Stop being so tender-headed.”

"HOW!?"

He’s not gentle but he’s not rough either.

Silk. Pillow. I’m confident that he owns at least one.

389 notes · View notes