One thing I’ve always hated is where you search up a tag for an underrated character and think you’ve found a really good fic only to realize the author tags the entire cast.
WARNING: I love Hanzo, but i had to-, Ging cause he's a crime, Hisoka, its more hair related situations than actually playing with it, but the vibe is comfy and chill, some are on crack but enjoy :)
SUMMARY: You play with their hair (if they have any lol)
CHARACTERS: HxH guys × F!Reader
WORD COUNT: 7.191
AN: it was super fun, for some reason my inner gremlin shows up if i write hxh
Chrollo
Chrollo lets out a soft huff of air as you start playing with his hair. He's sitting up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, focused on the book in his lap. A smile appears on his face, but he doesn't look up from the page he is reading.
"You're playing with my hair," he answers with a hint of playfulness in his words. "No.", you try to suppress a smile, but it's giving you away as you play coy. Chrollo glances up from the book, giving you a curious look.
"Are you trying to annoy me?" He quirks an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Sometimes." you smile. He shuts the book in his lap with a quiet thump, setting it to the side before turning to face you, his body moving closer to you with a fluid grace. "You're terrible at teasing me," he hums, wrapping an arm around you. "It's almost adorable," he murmurs. Chrollo pulls until you are sitting in his lap, your back against his chest. His arms wrap fully around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Can't even own up to it," he says, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest against your back steady and even.
"What will I ever do with you?" "Can I keep playing with your hair?" "You'll do it regardless of what I say," he murmurs, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
His breath is warm against your skin as he speaks, his words brushing against your ear like a whisper. "Yes, you can," he relents after a moment. Chrollo hums in contentment as you start to run your fingers through his hair, his eyes closing at the feeling. He nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against your skin. "You know, you're very distracting," he mutters against your neck, his voice muffled by your skin.
He pauses, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, his breaths warm and fast. "Very distracting," he murmurs again.
Bonolenov
His whole body stiffens when you touch his head; soft flick or no, he flinches, as though it's the first time someone has ever laid their hand on him. His breath shakes, and an inhale comes sharp, almost painful. Yet, he doesn't move away from you at all. Bonolenov stares at you.
"Don't…" He whispers. At your laugh, Bonolenovs glare transforms into something more hesitant— as if unsure of what to do with his face in response to your laughter. "Don't tease me," He mumbles, eyes flickering from your face to the floor. "No teasing." "Sorry, sorry." You keep softly laughing as you rub his bald head again. (Wtf am I writing) Bonolenov shudders again at the feeling of your hand on his head. He leans into it, slowly, a flower seeking the sunlight.
"You do this on purpose," he mutters. Despite his protest, Bonolenov can't seem to look away from you, or stop you from touching him. He shivers ever so slightly every time your hand moves over his head, and he still hasn't moved away. In fact, he's almost… pressing his head against your hand.
"Or is this a ritual from your tribe?"
Dalzollene
Dalzollene stirs slightly from the gentle motions of your touch, tilting his head up, almost as if seeking to lean against your hand. Dalzollene blinks slowly, eyes half-lidded. He makes a soft, sleepy sound, a low hum that is more of a content hum than anything. He's half-asleep, completely at ease and utterly lost in this moment. "You're overworking yourself." You whisper as you carefully take a seat on the desk he's resting on. Dalzollene's eyes flutter as he tries to focus in on you more clearly.
"I am simply doing as I should," he says, his words slightly slurred from sleep. He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, before he blinks up at you again. "I have to—" his words interrupt themselves with a yawn, "—work." "Neon is draining you." Dalzollene frowns at the mention of her name, but he can't find it in him to speak against you. He knows it's true, even if his job means he has to spend most of it within a few feet of her.
"It is… tiring," he admits, trying to be subtle about his slight disdain for the woman. Dalzollene's eyes shut again as you run your fingers through his hair, his body relaxing further. "This is… nice," he murmurs, the last word coming out more as a hum than a spoken word. "Your hands…" His head tilts into your touch.
Feitan
Your hands are in his hair and he would love nothing more than to melt into you. But his temper is getting the better of him, and he’s trying all he can not to show you just how good it feels.
“Stop that,” he mumbles, a bit testily. “Stop what?” You ask, as if you don’t know perfectly well what Feitan was referring to.
Your hands remain in his black locks, running your fingers through the smooth strands. He huffs and turns his head away, trying his best to ignore the way gooseflesh rises on his arms every time your fingers comb through his hair. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He snaps back, but his voice lacks most of its usual sharpness. “You mean… playing with your hair?” You ask, feigning innocence.
Even now, as Feitan is glaring up at you like a petulant child, you continue to brush your hands through his hair. Feitans eyes flash, temper flaring like a candle in the wind. He glares up at you, teeth snapping in irritation.
"I told you to stop," he says, a hint of a warning in his voice. "Or are you really that intent on annoying me?"
Franklin
"I'm sorry for your loss..." you whisper as you run your hands through his short hair, trying to comfort him. Franklin can feel your fingers combing through his hair, gentle enough to leave an imprint on his soul. "Uvo-" He blinks, his brow furrowing as he remembers who you are mentioning. "You don’t need to apologize."
He lifts his head to look up at you, and his gaze softens. "You have nothing to apologize for." He leans his head back, moving closer to your hand like a cat craving attention.
"If I’m being completely honest," he admits, his voice almost as soft as a whisper, "I think Uvo deserved it." He grins, and his eyes crinkle in the corners. "Don't say that," you say softly, "he was your friend, you loved him." "He *was*." Franklin closes his eyes for a moment, then sighs as you continue to play with his hair. "He was a friend, and a partner." The words are almost a hiss, a whisper of a curse on his breath.
"And he lost that when he laid hands on you." Franklins eyes are open again, staring up at you. "I didn’t like him as much as you think I did." He says, his tone blunt.
"He was a good fighter, and a decent person, but…" He’s quiet for a moment, and his eyes lower as he looks at the floor. "He tried to touch you. How could I forgive something like that?"
Ging
For a moment, he is still like a statue, then his lips curled into an agitated snarl and he starts to pull away. “Enough!” He snaps, swatting your hand away. "Dammit old man lemme brush your hair-!" You snap back. “No! No, that’s—“
Gings words stop the moment he sees the expression on your face. He gulps the lump lodged in his throat down and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, looking away from you. “You can brush it. Just— just make it quick…” While you work to untangle the mess that is Gings hair, the man grumbles and mutters to himself.
“I could’ve untangled it myself, you know,” he murmurs, his words a complaint more than a statement. “You didn’t need to do it for me.” "Stop pouting." "I am not pouting," Ging huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He glances sidelong at you, his expression a blend of annoyance and something else he doesn't want to admit.
"And for the record, I was perfectly capable of untangling it myself." "Uh-huh." With another grumble, Ging lets his head droop forward in defeat. He tries to steal a glance backwards at you through the tangled mess of dark hair before remembering that he's not supposed to look.
"How much longer is this going to take?... my neck is starting to ache..." "Till you fucking die." "That doesn't tell me anything," Ging mutters, his words clipped and quiet. The pain in his neck is starting to mount, but he's not quite sure how to ask you to be gentler. "Could you… try and be a bit… more… careful?" He winces, his shoulders involuntarily twitching as needles of pain shoot down his spine. "It… hurts…" "Manchild." "Women these day's, i tell ya."
Hanzo (you could totally play with his eyebrows tho, they look like lashes, what a queen honestly)
"Are you just bald or cant you grow hair at all?" You blurt out while you both cuddle. "Bald?" Hanzo flinches as you touch his head. There aren't words to describe the touch of your hand against his scalp. A shiver runs through his shoulders; he seems to be holding back, somehow. "Um, I…" He pauses, clearing his throat.
"I can grow it… if you wish." His voice is soft, like a child speaking up to their mother. "No." you laugh by the thought of him with hair. The look of relief that washes over Hanzo, you've never seen on anyone else. He sighs, shoulders relaxing into your touch.
"Good, I—" his voice cracks, almost as though he's holding back. "I'm not sure I want to grow it to be honest." "And I'm not sure you'd look good with it either." A surprised sound leaves him, almost like a breathless laugh. He shakes his head a little.
"I didn't think so either," he murmurs. "Not to mention! A good ninja never leaves behind traces!" he adds. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if in thought. When he speaks again, his voice is low, a murmured admission. "I like it when you touch me." "Hmm?" You hum, "You do?" Hanzos breathing hitches, his chest rising quickly with each breath. “I…” his voice is breathless, a strangled whisper. “I do.”
He shivers again, and this time he doesn’t try to hold it back. He just closes his eyes and leans into your touch.
Hisoka
His head is tilted back slightly, leaning into your hand as you play with his hair. Like some touch-starved little dog, he can't help the low sound that slips out of his mouth.
"Ah," he gasps quietly as he looks up at you. And yet, the smirk at the corner of his lips betrays him. "OH-! You didn’t...." "... I didn't just what?" He asks, eyes full of mischief. "Moan like that you slut-!" That makes him laugh. A soft, sultry little chuckle that sends a shiver through his frame as he grins up at you. He's utterly shameless, and he knows it. "And what if I did?" He coos, raising one eyebrow up at you. "Will you punish me, baby?" "Whore." A huff of air leaves his mouth, almost a sigh, but not quite.
"Maybe I am." He grins, not denying it. "And maybe I want you to do something about it." Hisokas breath is knocked out of his lungs as you pull his hair, and another soft, desperate sound slips out of his mouth. He can feel his body heating up, blood flushing under his skin as he lets out a little moan.
"Ahnn...!" He shivers, eyes squeezing shut as your hand is tangled in his locks. "That's it I'm done." You say with a straight face and leave. "Leaving me all hot and bothered?" He pouts. "How cruel."
It's a joke, of course— but he really is rather bothered.
Illumi
The gesture catches Illumi off guard, and he blinks in surprise. The feeling of your fingers in his hair is unlike anything he has known before. For a second, it's like the whole world has stopped in order for him to experience the sensation.
He has to resist the urge to lean into the touch. "Why are you touching my hair?" he asks. "Am I not allowed to?" Your hand stops in his hair, waiting for his answer. You never know what happens when you overstep the assassin's boundaries. Illumi almost stutters, but manages to respond in his usual even tone.
"You are allowed to do whatever you please," he murmurs. "It's just… I am unaccustomed to the sensation." "Did your mother never do your hair?"
"No." He doesn't look up as he says it, his eyes focused on the floor. "She didn't. I used to do my own hair from a very young age." "Not even maids?" “No.” The answer is short, sharp. Illumi takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay still as you continue to play with his hair.
“Mother said that my last priority should be my hair, my first is to make the family proud and train. Maids weren't allowed to either talk to me or touch me.”
"So that's why it's so long." You laugh, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood. "What does that have to do with the length of my hair?" "....Nevermind"
Kite
"You…" Kites voice has a tinge of awe in it that only comes out when you are together. It is late. The sky is a canvas of stars. He sits next to you, so close that he can feel your warmth. His eyes are closed. Your hands glide through his hair, untangling some of its knots with a gentle, soothing touch.
"You would…" A brief pause, as if he cannot bring himself to ask. "...stay here with me?"
"Looking at bugs for a whole month or longer? Yep, with you always." You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. A huff of laughter escapes him. As always, he is powerless against the light you bring to his mind, the warmth you give him when you are near. "A month…" he murmurs, repeating your words. The corner of his mouth quirks up in the smallest smile.
"You'd spend a month in a forest watching bugs with me?" "Romantic." His smile widens into an actual smirk. As he glances at you, Kite cannot help but think that you look the most beautiful when you are like this— lighthearted, carefree, at peace. He is entranced by the way you look in the moonlight. "Romantic, hm?" He shifts a little closer, until his knee is grazing yours. "...you’d think watching bugs with me is romantic."
"I can imagine better things, but I won't complain." Kite's smirk only grows. He is close enough now that his body is almost flush with yours. He reaches a hand up, resting it against your waist, tugging you just a little closer. His voice is low, deep, but there is an element of playfulness to his expression as he looks at you.
“You won’t complain?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you in a challenge, "That's a new one." "EY-!"
Knov
Knov doesn’t react when you reach for his hair, though his body jolts ever so faintly as you touch him, his eyes staring up at you the entire time. "Ew-!" you withdraw your hand.
His voice is very different when he replies to your exclamation, though, his voice taking on a hint of annoyance. “What?” He asks, brows furrowing. "The gel, it's ew." You scrunch up your nose. Knov's expression is a mixture of surprise and slight embarrassment. He looks like a puppy being told off for eating its owner’s shoes. “The gel isn’t supposed to be touched. It— it’s supposed to help control it.”
He reaches up and tries to pat his hair back down, which is only slightly successful, with a few black wisps falling back down to cover his forehead once again. “It isn’t supposed to… feel like that,” he says, still mumbling to himself, trying to fix his hair back into the pristine fashion it had been a moment previous. Then he looks up at you, eyes searching for approval.
“Better?” "When you wash it later, I wanna play with it." Knov's face turns a slight red color at your request. He’s still fiddling with his hair, trying to get it to behave. “You… want to play with it?” He repeats, like he can’t believe his ears. "Mhm!" His face heats up once more, the red flush spreading to his ears. “Ah…” His fingers stop trying to fix his hair, leaving it messy and unkempt. He looks a little disheveled, especially when compared to the perfect image he always has in public. “…sure.” He says, as if he can’t refuse anything you say.
Knuckle
"It's surprising how it stays up..." you mumble in slight amazement. His hair is surprisingly soft under your touch. He lets out a gasp at the motion, almost like a puppy who wasn’t expecting to be pet. "It.. it does that," he stutters out, face going pink. Knuckle is utterly flustered, but far from annoyed at the touch. "I… I don't know how it stays up."
"...you style it every morning tho." "Ah… I…" he falters, realizing that he's been found out.
"I use a little bit of hair gel," he admits, like he'd just confessed a terrible sin. Knuckle looks up at you through his eyelashes, face still flushed. "More like a whole container." Knuckle flushes a deeper shade of red. His mouth opens for a moment, wordless with protest, then he sighs and looks down at the floor.
"Fine," he mutters, his hands clenching into fists. "I may use a bit more than just "a little bit" of hair gel…but only because my hair keeps falling back down otherwise!" He adds, a slight defensive edge to his voice. "And if I'm not always perfectly presentable.. I-" he falters, biting his tongue before he says, "I just…" He looks down, refusing to meet your eyes.
Finally, he looks back up at you and admits, "I can't look anything but perfect when I'm next to you. Not even a single hair can be out of place." "Awww baby." Knuckle blushes at the pet name, but doesn’t protest when you begin playing with his hair. He even leans into your touch, craving your closeness as if it was the only thing that would make him whole.
Kortopi
"It's so tangled..." you mumble as you brush his hair, the small male sitting between your legs. Kortopis eyes flutter shut, breath hitching as you brush through his long hair. He tries his best to keep still, a slight shiver rolling through his body. He's never been a fan of people touching him so intimately. With you it's a different story tho.
He'll hold still as long as you like. “Please be gentle. I don’t… I’m not used to this.” He whispers the words, eyes still closed.
The feeling of your fingers stroking through his hair and across his scalp is almost dizzying. Each brush of your touch sends a shiver down his spine, his breaths leaving his parted lips in soft gasps. "Am I too rough? I'm sorry." You quickly apologize. “No, no.” Kortopi is quick to shake his head at that, a hand lifting to reach hesitantly for your leg.
“It’s just… it’s a lot.” He mumbles, eyes fluttering open. He looks up at you, cheeks reddening a bit. “It feels nice. Keep going.” He can’t explain the feeling he gets from you just playing with his hair— the way that the slightest brush of your fingers makes his stomach clench and his heart flutter.
No one has been this gentle with him before. No one ever bothered to look at him with any form of compassion in their gaze.
He leans into your touch, his grip on your leg tightening when you scratch ever so slightly across his scalp. "I don't wanna overwhelm you." “It’s okay,” he says quietly, almost breathless. The feeling of your fingers against his hair, your touch against his skin, it almost makes him dizzy. He reaches his hand up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist as he guides your hand back down, silently asking you to keep going. He closes his eyes again, leaning against your leg.
Kurapika
A shiver passes over Kurapika, but he does not look up from the pages of his book. "You're playing with my hair," he notes, a simple observation. "I am," you say as your fingers slide through the strands. You twist a few around your fingers and pull slightly. He tries to keep his focus on his book, but the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his hair is quite distracting. You feel more than see the effort Kurapika makes to keep his attention on the words in his book, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.
"You're making it difficult to read," He says, but he makes no move to pull away from you. "That's the point," you reply, a light chuckle in your voice. Kurapika grumbles and makes an attempt at turning the page, only for one of your hands to tug on his hair again.
This time, he makes a soft noise and sets his book down, closing his eyes and sighing. "Why do you do this to me?" His voice sounds almost mournful, but there is a sense of joy in his words. It is almost as if he were grateful for the situation he has found himself in.
His hair is tousled from your ministrations, messy and disheveled. It is a sight that is both attractive and adorable. "Because I like to see you this way," you reply, still lightly pulling on his hair. The action makes Kurapika shiver. He turns to look up at you, a mixture of defeat and happiness in his eyes at the same time.
"This way?" He repeats, voice wavering faintly, "Disheveled? Frantic? Utterly distracted?" You nod. "It reminds me how cute you are." Kurapika lets out a huff, his cheeks growing a little warmer. He tries to school his features into a frown, but he can't help the corners of his lips from twitching upwards.
Leorio
The touch of your fingers through his unruly black locks soothes Leorios mind. He leans into your touch, the tension seeping from his muscles, and his eyes flutter shut. He lets out a low, almost inaudible sigh, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. He's silent for a long moment, simply enjoying the gentle ministrations your fingers give to the hair around his face.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and quiet, as if not to disrupt the peace that's settled over the two of you. "You are too good to me," he whispers, his eyes still closed. He slowly reaches up to take your hand. He pulls it from his head and instead places a firm, lingering kiss upon your knuckles.
His thumb caresses your skin, the pad of it tracing little patterns against the back of your hand. "You've been so stressed lately so i-" "You are much too generous to me," Leorio mutters into your skin. His grip on your hand is tight, as if he's worried you'll pull away.
His eyes flick open, and he looks up to meet your gaze. "You do not have to be this kind to me. Yet you are. You are too kind, my God," he repeats, the words quiet and reverent. He lifts himself up, resting on his elbow as he looks down at you. He brings your hand to his chest, holding it just over his heart. His free hand reaches to cup your face, his touch gentle yet firm.
He brings his face down to your ear, and the sound of his next words are as soft as a whisper. "Why do you have to do this to me? Why do you have to be so damn good?"
Menthuthuyoupi
You stare up at the big guy, "can I try something?" Menthuthuyoupi blinks, then gives a firm nod.
No matter what you say or ask for, he will do it without question or complaint. He has been yours since the first moment he laid eyes on you. "Can i play with your hair?" "My hair?"
Menthuthuyoupis voice is quiet, bewildered. Never in his long weeks of life has anyone asked to touch his hair before. "You… you can." He tries to keep himself still, but his body is tensed up. It takes all of his willpower to keep from leaning into your touch.
"Does it… is it good?" He can't help but ask. "Does it feel strange?" Yes. Yes, it is. "Yes," he says bluntly. "Didn't even know i had hair."
"What?!" A small huff of irritation. Menthuthuyoupi shakes his head. "Now I know have hair." His hand reaches up to touch at one of the red locks, wrapping it around his finger and giving it a small, harsh little tug.
"I've just never…" he continues, pausing as if he isn't sure how to say what he means. "I've never been taking care of it." "Figured, it's greasey as hell."
Meruem
His eyes snap up to your face as you drum your fingers against his skull. He frowns for a moment— the barest twitch of his lips down.
He doesn't quite register what you are doing, just that your fingers are against his skin. Meruem is silent for a single heartbeat, and then he tilts his head into you, leaning into the touch. That touch makes Meruem pause, tilting his head back to give you a look, one corner of his lip lifting in an almost smirk.
"And what makes you think you can do such a thing to me?" Meruem asks. His voice has a hint of challenge to it, like he's testing you. "I just can." You smirk, knocking on his head. Meruem's smirk grows, and he lets out a soft laugh. There's no sarcasm in his voice, just a hint of amused disbelief.
"And that makes you think you're above me?" He asks, the challenge growing with his smile.
"Above the great king? Everything of course." Another laugh. Meruem shakes his head, letting out a breath as though he can't believe what he's hearing. He's not bothered or annoyed— far from it. Amusement is written all over his face as he looks up at you with a wide, wolfish grin. "You think you're that powerful, do you?" He muses, still with that hint of challenge in his voice. "My love for you is." That makes Meruem pause, looking up at you for a moment. That hint of challenge turns to surprise, and then that surprise fades into a soft, warm look. His smirk is gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a small smile.
"Is what?" He asks, voice much softer. "Love? The strange pulling in ones heart? What we talked about?" "What we talked about, yes." "I doubt your pulling compares to mine."
Morel
"Ey old man! Come here!" "Eh? Old man?" He sputters as if the very notion offends him."I am not that old," Morel protests. "How old do you believe I am?"
"100?" "One hundred?" Morel stares at you incredulously. His eyes narrow. His shoulders tense up. For a short moment, it looks as if he’s holding back a snort.
"You think I am a hundred years old?" "You have white hair." You run your fingers through his hair as he sits down. "That does not mean I am old," Morel saya. "It just... means my hair is white. It always was." He falls silent, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. "You wouldn’t ask others with white hair their age, would you?" "I was just joking." The admission seems to soothe his wounded ego a little bit. "You could have used a more believable number,” he mutters, but there’s hardly any heat in the words.
"For your information, I’m not a hundred. I’m not even close to that old." He huffs, rising to his feet and dusting off the dirt from his clothes. "Not that it matters either way,” he adds, giving you a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye. "I don’t suppose my age matters to you, my love," Morel says, the reverent title slipping easily from his tongue.
“I could be a hundred or thousand, immortal or not, and still,” he stops suddenly, eyes fixed on your face as the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he swallows, as if suddenly unable to find the words. “I would still be yours...and i know you like em older anyways.” "Ey-!"
Neferpitou
"No one? Ever?" You asked in disbelief. Neferpitou leans ever so slightly into your touch, enjoying the soft feeling of your fingers against their hair. No one else has ever done this.
"No," they murmur, "never like this. No one ever touched me like this." "What a shame...it's pretty." The corners of Neferpitous mouth twitch, something like pride swelling in their chest at your compliment. Your simple words mean everything to them. Praise from you is more valuable than all the riches in the whole universe.
"You flatter me," they say quietly, although there's no attempt to deny it. Not only is their hair pretty, but so are they, and they know it— but they also know only you can tell them that. "Hmm, maybe." your lips crack a smile. Neferpitou stares up at you, eyes burning like fireworks. They're not blind— they know you're teasing them. Your smugness is something they adore. All of your expressions are so unique, from the look on your face when you're fighting a battle, to the curve of your lips when you smile, all the way to how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh. Humans are interesting. You especially.
They know exactly what you mean, even if they're not willing to admit it. Neferpitous expression is mischievous, their tone bordering on dangerous. They won't admit it out loud, but they do love playing with fire. Especially when it comes to you. You're a feisty little inferior species.
"Don't smirk, my human," they murmur, leaning closer until they're a mere breath away from you. "We both know I'm more than just pretty."
Netero (me and my eyebrow or bald jokes in this post are wild)
You can't help but feel slightly upset, "Damn...why'd you cut it?" A soft sigh escapes him as you ask why he cut his hair.
“It would've gotten in the way, and it became difficult to manage,” he murmurs in response, his eyes still closed as he drinks in the feeling of you touching him. “Plus… it will grow back,” he says. For a few moments, Netero remains still, enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, until he opens his eyes and looks upward at you.
“Are you really that fond of it long?” He asks, in his voice, as if he’s worried he disappointed you by cutting his hair in the first place. "You could've at least cut your eyebrows." You add with a smirk. Netero rolls his eyes dramatically, but even the small action isn’t enough to disguise the soft, flustered look on his face. “You know I can’t do that,” he says, but there’s mirth behind his words. “Unless you want me to run around with no eyebrows at all.”
"That would be a sight." You imagine. “I’d look absolutely ridiculous,” he says, but the way he’s grinning gives him away. "And you think you looked better before, old man?" Netero shoots an unimpressed look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he knows you’re only teasing him. “You’d rather I looked like a caveman?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "You already d-" Netero cuts you with an indignant scoff at your comment and, for a moment, looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he stops, a small smile twisting his lips.
“Oh, quiet,” he says, his tone holding no bite. “I may be older than rocks, but I’m allowed to care about how I look.”
Nobunaga
"Washing is an option, yk?" "I know that," he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. He shivers slightly under your palm, his body as sensitive to your touch as a rose to sunlight. "I've been busy," he clarifies as you play with his hair, trying to come up with a good reason to escape your chiding. "I don't have time to bathe, is all." He lets out a sigh, leaning into your touch like a kitten against a hand.
"And it's not that bad," he says, though his voice falters slightly— he knows he's lying. "Yeah sure." You smirk. "I've been sweating!" Nobunaga protests, as if that will solve everything.
"That's not my fault." He mutters, but when you tug lightly on his hair, he shivers again. "Relax." You calm him down. "I can't relax," he hisses, his eyes snapping open to glare up at you. "Not when you're—" He cuts himself off, his gaze suddenly shifting away as his cheeks flush. "I'll wash it for you later, okay?" taking care of a mess like this men is actually fun activities in your book. Especially when you can see him flustered. It takes a moment for his brain to process your words.
Nobunaga blinks, lifting his head from your hand to stare up at you, his mouth falling open.
"You—" a beat, "—you'll wash my hair?" You can practically see the smoke coming from his head. Nobunaga blinks, once, his mouth slowly falling open again as he processes what you'd said. His throat works silently as he grapples with the situation.
"You…" the word comes out faint, almost a whisper, as he tries to grasp what you're offering. "You'd… wash my hair?" he finally manages to get out, his face already starting to tint pink. "Yes?" "I—" he starts, hesitating as he tries to form a sentence, his thoughts flying to every possible meaning and implication of your words. Finally, after a moment of silence, his face completely flushed red, he manages to utter a response.
"I'd like that," he whispers, voice barely more than a sigh, though his words speak volumes as to how badly he wants you to do this.
Pariston
"It's so smooth?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. With all the products he uses you were almost sure his hair was like hay. He leans into your fingers, closing his eyes, a satisfied hum escaping his lips.
"Of course it is," he mumbles back, pride and arrogance dripping from every word. "After all," he continues. "I keep it that way for you. Gotta look good for my girl." His head tilts into your hand, seeking more of your touch. You can't help but roll your eyes at him. "What?" Pariston asks, his eyes opening. He lifts his head just to look at you, a single eyebrow raised.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, I'm being sincere," he says, tone a mix of amusement and mock-offence. "Since when." "Oh, always." He says, sitting up a little straighter. He leans back on one of his hands and grins. "You just don't notice because you never pay attention to me," he retorts. "I think..." He speaks slowly, fingers dancing over the top your other hand. "I think you're just cruel to me. That's what it is," he says decisively.
"You have no idea," he continues, his tone going from teasing to serious for a moment, "how much I adore you, and yet you treat me so callously." He fake pouts, a frown on his face, but you can see his eyes are dancing with mischief. "It's very insensitive of you." He admonishes you, his fingers moving over your skin.
"You should feel very guilty for treating the person who loves you more than anything like this," he admonishes, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips.
"And the person that finances your very being."
Phinks
"No," Phinks insists, pulling a little away from you. He scowls, crossing his arms at his chest. "Just… No." He won't let you ruffle his golden locks. "Why?" You whine slightly. "I don't want you to ruin it," he protests, running his fingers over his hair. He glares at you as his perfectly styled locks get mussed. "It takes hours to make it look good." Phinks frowns, his hair tousled from your touch. He combs his fingers through the messy blonde strands, trying in vain to return them to some semblance of order.
"I don't understand why you always have to touch my hair," he complains. "You're just like a child, always grasping at what the world has to offer without regard to the consequences," he says, still combing through his hair and trying to keep it away from you. "You have the impulse control of a three-year-old."
"But you love me." You smile innocently. Phinks can't help but soften a little at your words. He lets out a huff, his shoulders slumping as he gives up on his hair. He can never resist you.
"Yes, I love you," he admits, running a hand through his hair one last time. "Now, don't ruin my hair or I'll punish you." He doesn't sound all that threatening. In fact, you can imagine a hint of a smile flickering at his lips as he glares at you.
"If you make me look awful, there will be consequences," he says, though you suspect he's more likely to give you a kiss than actually punish you. He lets out a quiet sigh, running his hand through his tousled hair one final time before admitting defeat. He's fighting a losing battle— his hair is messy and sticking up at all sorts of ungraceful angles, and he's only going to undo any progress he makes by touching it. With a huff, he gives up, looking back at you.
"You're going to be the death of me one of these days, you know that?"
Pokkle
Every time you even think of coming near his hair, he looks up at you like a frightened doe. "I'll bite your hand, you know," he adds, though it is a very empty threat. "Why not? Shy?" You tease. "I–It's a mess." Pokkle protests, lifting a hand up and attempting to tame some of the messy locks of messy hair. He quickly gets frustrated however, huffing as it just flies right back in his face. "Besides… You'll mess it up…" "Can I at least brush it? Make it better?" Pokkle bites the inside of his cheek, looking down as if contemplating.
He remains like that for a few moments, thinking it over. He can't deny he wants you to touch his hair. That much is obvious. He's simply very stubborn, and won't say it.
He mumbles something under his breath that sounds vaguely like a reluctant yes. He turns around, presenting his back to you. His hair hangs messily over his shoulders.
His spine is ramrod straight, almost painfully so, and he’s clearly trying not to look over his shoulder at you. He's expecting his hair to be pulled, not brushed. He stays completely silent once you begin to brush his hair. He is still as stone, like a statue, but you can almost hear the sound of his mind racing even when you touch the brush to his hair.
He doesn’t look at you the entire time. In fact, he appears to be trying so desperately not to look at you that it’s like he’s fighting a losing battle with himself.
"Good?" Pokkle is quiet for a few seconds. He seems to have to collect himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to process what's just happened.
Finally, he nods, answering your question in a single word. "Good."
Razor
Razor doesn't question your request for a moment. If you want to, he will allow it. His head dips down, allowing you better access.
"You may. It's yours." "...its so short." you mumble. "I never let it grow." Razor responds, then lets out a quiet little hum as you play with the strands of his hair. It is indeed short, just barely long enough to play with. His neck twists a little, tilting to the side as you ruffle his hair. Razor is surprisingly pliant at your ministrations.
"You like to play with it, I take it?" He asks, a touch of amusement in his tone. "Meh, it's alright." Razor lets out a quiet scoff, the corner of his lips twitching.
"Only 'alright'," he mutters, but there's a hint of a smile in his words. "Just say you like it." He leans closer to you, head tilting down to look at you. "I know you like it," he teases, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You love to play with this short hair. Admit it."
"Hmm,...no." Razor snorts. "Why not?" He murmurs, leaning in a little more, so his head is resting against your leg. "It's short and soft. I can tell you like it, don't lie." Razor lets out another quiet scoff, though it is not meant as rude. He is too comfortable to care how he sounds. "Your hand is still in my hair," he whispers, tilting his head a little more to give you better access.
"Admit it, you like it." He smirks.
Shaiapouf
Shaiapoufs head is leaned against you, his eyes closed as your fingers run through his golden locks. He shudders at your touch, a low hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he finally opens his eyes and speaks.
"What are you doing?" He asks, voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment. "Hmm, nothing." Shaiapouf raises an eyebrow, glancing up at you from his place beside you. He smiles a little mischievously as he leans into your touch. "Just playing with my hair for no reason, then?" He teases. Even through the weariness in his voice, there's a hint of mirth there, like he wants to see how you'll respond. "Yeah." "Liar,"
He laughs, reaching up and grabbing your wrist, moving you hand back to his hair. He gently guides your fingers through his locks once again, his eyes closing, a soft sigh falling from his lips. "You just want an excuse to touch me, don't you?" Shaiapouf rolls over, laying himself against your side, head resting on your shoulder, his body pressed against you like a shadow.
He slings an arm around your middle, pulling himself close. "Gods, you're warm." He mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Shaiapouf hums contentedly as he cuddles against you, feeling the heat of your body seeping into his skin. He pulls you closer, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly.
"You're soft," he murmurs, his breath warm and ticklish against your cheek. "So soft..."
Shalnark
The feeling of you sitting in his lap makes Shalnark hyper aware of you. He tries to stay focused on the computer screen, he really does, but it’s hard to when you’re playing with his hair. “What are you doing…?” He asks, swallowing thickly as his eyes dart from the computer to your hand in his hair. "Playing, like you." You mumble, keep playing. He lets out a slight huff, but there’s no annoyance in it.
“Are you trying to make it difficult for me to concentrate?” He asks, giving you a light smirk. “Not that I would want you to stop,” he adds as an afterthought, his voice growing softer.
Despite his words, Shalnark still continues to try and focus on the computer screen rather than on how it feels when your fingers glide through his hair. After a few moments, it becomes too distracting. Shalnark lets out a small huff, his fingers resting on the keyboard, unmoving. He turns his head a bit to look at you. A light flush has dusted his cheeks; his gaze almost seems a bit petulant, but there’s no real annoyance in it.
“You are doing this on purpose.” "Noooo." Shalnark gives you an unconvinced look.
“Liar.” He mumbles, tilting his head back a bit. The bare expanse of his neck shines in the cold light of the computer screen. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft sigh as he feels your fingers running through his hair again.
“I know you’re too smart to do this unintentionally.” Despite his words, he can’t hide the way he relaxes with your hand on him.
Shoot
Shoots eyes slip shut as you touch his hair. It's been a long time since he's felt the gentle caress of your fingers against his scalp. You would think this would be enough to soothe him, but his chest still rises and falls quickly, his breaths uneven and choppy in his chest.
"Thank you," he stutters, trying to control his breathing. "Your touch feels like paradise," he whispers, almost so quiet you can't hear it.
"Missed it?" You laugh as you keep braiding his hair. He nods, feeling the gentle tug of your fingers on his hair. Shoot opens his eyes and looks up at you, his gaze unfocused. His head is foggy and hazy, his mind slipping away as you continue to braid his hair. "Yes," he admits, voice quiet.
"Yes, I missed it." "So...the mission?" Shoots expression darkens a little when you mention the mission. The mere mention of those words turns his mind to memories he would rather forget. "It was complicated," he confesses, watching your fingers move through his hair. "The mission…"
He pauses, his eyes growing a little distant. "...It did not go as well as planned." "...oh." "It was…" He falters. Something in Shoot shifts, a change in the air; as if the very atmosphere around him has grown darker. His mind drifts back to the mission, replaying the events of the past few days.
"There were... issues," he states, trying to keep his voice steady. "Obstacles. Setbacks. It was not the success we were hoping for."
Uvogin
Uvogin ducks his head to avoid the brush once again, a quiet scoff leaving him.
"I can brush it myself," he mutters, and reaches up. His hair is tangled and messy after spending most of the day without his hair being brushed — but he doesn't like having others run their hands through his hair for him. He can do it himself. "Do you even know what a brush is?" you ask as a joke. Uvogin narrows his eyes at the words, a quiet huff leaving him.
"Of course I know what a brush is," he says, and snatches the hairbrush from you, holding it with an almost possessive grip. "I'm not an animal." Uvogin mutters something to himself— probably something about you being annoying— but he sits down and starts to run the brush through his long locks.
He looks like he is struggling. A lot. But he won't ask for your help. His pride won't allow it. "I can he-" "No."It's a short, quick answer. Uvogin immediately shuts down any offer you may have had before you can even finish speaking. He's stubborn, and he doesn't want to ask for your help— even though he very clearly needs it.
It's a sight to behold, the brush sticking in his hair and him struggling to brush it through. You walk up and hug his back. Uvogin stiffens at your sudden embrace, but he doesn't try to push you away. He continues to struggle with the brush, until he finally— begrudgingly— lowers his hands.
"Fine," he says, and it's clear it pains him to admit defeat. "You can do it."
Wing
Wing practically melts under your touch. His head rests against you like a pillow, and he hums in contentment as you play with his hair. He is warm, his chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm. "Tough day?" A heavy sigh escapes Wing. He nods, just a fraction, his face pressed into your chest.
"Yes." His voice is quiet, almost as if he doesn’t want to speak too loudly, in case it breaks this perfect moment. He pauses, hesitating, his eyes closing as he listens to your heartbeat.
"You make it better," he confesses, the words whispered into your skin like a secret. His breath is gentle, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he relishes being this close to you. After a few moments, he shifts, wrapping his arms around your waist in a hug, and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
"Being with you is my favorite part of the day," he admits quietly, breathing deeply of your scent. "Then I'm glad..." Wing nods his head, nuzzling into your chest a little more. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely loud enough for even you to hear. His body is flush with yours, his chest pressed against you. Every breath he takes, every rise and fall of his rib cage, you can feel against your own skin. Wings arms gently tighten around you, his grip almost desperate, like he’d die if he was torn away from you. "Love you too..." Wings hold on you tightens when you return the sentiment. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and lets out a shaky breath.
“Say it again,” he whispers, a hint of pleading in his tone. The words are uttered as a near demand.
His breath is hot against the nape of your sweat sheened neck, his hand resting in a hotter, tighter grip around the front base of your throat. His low, almost pained groans fall into your ear like the stream of a lazy river, ever present and melodic in an urgent rhythm.
His hips match the same urgent but deliberate tempo, rushed but thoughtful, primal yet purposeful. He’s fucking into you with no restraint, nearly folding you in half with your ass flush against his hipbones and cock buried in you beyond the hilt, stuffing you full of him. He fucks you like it’s a necessary evil, a means to an end that will never come. Almost believing that if he takes as much as he can from you now, he won’t ever have to crawl back into your arms or between your legs ever again. But you both know that won’t ever be the case. At least not any time soon.
He hates needing you as much as he does, which is at all. He hates how you make his cock rock hard and drool with pre just from catching a whiff of your perfume out in the wild, or how something as simple as seeing your favorite color somewhere makes the blood rush to his cock like a knee jerk reaction. Anything that has to do with you leaves him feeling stuck in some kind of haze inducing whirlwind, it's infuriating.
Nothing feels innocent anymore, not when his brain is a landfill full of lewd depravity. He hates that he can't seem to just be normal, that seeing your favorite color does nothing but remind him of the way you look sprawled out in his bed, adorned in nothing but his favorite pair of panties that you only seem to wear when you haven't seen him in awhile. He views the sight as if it were a special, unspoken treat for him and him only.
But what he really loves about it is how your arousal always seems to soak through the crotch of your panties and splotch over the gusset, making it a shade darker than the rest of the material. He thinks that it’s quickly becoming his secret favorite color.
And he's aware of how fucked up that is, how fucked up it all is - and that he should be disgusted with himself, revolted that he’s taking advantage of a girl as young as you. You're damn near walking jailbait. A girl as young as his daughter. A college girl with her life ahead of her, a girl who shouldn’t be anywhere near a man like him.
But he can’t bring himself to hold back, no matter how much everything in him tells him that he should. He can't ever seem to pull away from you, especially not now, while you're gripping onto the forearm he has locked under your breasts while he fucks you from behind. You're squeezing his toned arm with your soft hands for dear life, holding onto him like he’s your anchor of safety when he’s anything but.
The way you press yourself back up against him drives him crazy, as if the millisecond of him pulling out just to thrust right back in is a millisecond too long for you to bear without being fully impaled on his cock. The way you need him is a new type of addiction he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to kick.
And when he slips his hand from under your breasts and down between your sticky thighs to rub your clit, he chuckles a dark and lazy laugh into your neck. He’s breathless as he kisses the glistening skin there, feeling you gasp and tense up in his arms from the way he’s toying with your clit.
“Watch.” is all he says into the warm crevice of your shoulder, placing another kiss upon the skin there before he grabs your jaw and points your gaze up towards the bathroom mirror, slamming hard into you just to watch your face contort and brows draw up so prettily, bitten lips dropping open with a drawn out whimper.
“I love you,” you cry, nearly sobbing on his cock, babbling what he considers to be nonsense as he fucks you. His teeth fall hard into each other, his hand trembling imperceptibly between your grinding thighs. He’s quick to recover and continues rubbing your little clit with mind numbing circles, trying his best to not be thrown off with your sudden declaration.
He doesn’t want to accept the possibility that you actually mean it, that you could feel anything for someone like him besides surface level lust. And he especially doesn’t want to acknowledge that he might feel anything beyond that either.
So he doesn’t. He just grunts and bends you over completely into the sink, holding you tight and firm with one hand clamped shut over your mouth while the other circles hard over your clit. Your rising sounds lay muffled in his palm, your eyes squeezed shut as you lay there bent and nearly bred full of him, trying desperately to fuck yourself onto his pulsing cock.
“F-fuck,” he stutters, collapsing on top of you and swallowing your figure whole with his broad back curling over yours, shoving his cock as deep as it could possibly go inside you, pumping you full of his cum. He thrusts a few times, shallow and slow, using your tight cunt to milk himself of everything he’s got.
Once he’s pulled out and cleaned the cum that came dribbling out your well used hole, he dresses you, gentle and delicate unlike the way he handled you only moments prior. Before he can say anything, or even pull you in close for a delicate embrace to counteract the way he had just ravaged you, something cuts him off.
“Babe? Where are you?” the voice belonging to your boyfriend calls out from a distance, blissfully ignorant to what you had just participated in. He’s barely audible with how far away he seems to be, but much to your dismay, you’re able to hear him loud and clear. You can hear the beckoning calls for your name, innocent and unaware, and you can feel the guilt begin to manifest itself inside your chest all over again.
The sound of his voice additionally triggers your awareness of how the already sensitive mood between you and the man looming above you has begun to grow sour and awkward, thick with something uncomfortably palpable. And that’s how you know it’s time to go.
So you do, begrudgingly of course. You sigh quietly, leaning up on your toes to press one last kiss to his cheek, your hand resting against his chest, pretending to not notice the way his heart hammers into your palm as you do so.
“I’ll see you later.” you whisper, before pushing past him to exit the bathroom and re-enter your best friend’s birthday party once more, leaving him alone and filled with the post clarity of accepting the fact that he just got done fucking his daughter’s best friend on her birthday.
Father of the year, isn’t he?
SUGURU GETO, Erwin Smith, Leon Kennedy, JOEL MILLER, Modelo!Yuji Itadori, Jean Kirstein, Satoru Gojo, JOSEPH JOESTAR, Jotaro Kujo, Jack Abbot, MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH, Ethan Winters, Mikey Berzatto, Reiner Braun, RICK GRIMES, Nanami Kento, Kakashi Hatake, Leone Abbacchio, Tangerine, Miche Zacharius, All Might, LEORIO PALADIKNIGHT, CHARLIE SWAN, and your favorite husband!
a/n : hiii i couldn’t stop listening to dark but just a game n out came this :P hope yall liked it <3
Keeping you plugged up with his cock was one of his favorite activities. Wanting to keep his cock warm was just the excuse he used, the real reason was his increasing need to breed.
“Shh, princess… you’ve gotta stay seated a little longer… you’ve gotta keep me warm, okay?”
You whined and writhed, your pussy clenching around him only fueling his urge to get you nice and pregnant. “Please… my tummy, it’s too full…”
The two of you had been going at it for hours, and now he was keeping his cock nestled inside you, filling up your womb to the brim.
“Just be a good girl, okay? My little angel…”
You had a feeling you’d be stuffed full of his cum by the end of the night.
lover boys who are down bad for you, worshipping the ground you walk on like you are some goddess. if someone asks how did they pull you they wouldn't know what to say.
"i don't even know man.."
he patiently waits for you to finish trying on all the dresses that caught your attention in the mall. carrying your bags hell he even knows how to wear your purse without making it look weird on him.
switches shoes with you when your feet starts to hurt from all that walking, offering to carry you on his back. when you get home you always give him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you gift.
"why are you looking at me like that?"
you often ask him that question, he says he likes watching you do your things. he does, but that's not the real reason. he loves the way your eyelashes look when they are curled, the way you pout your lips when you think so hard about something, how your eyebrows are furrowed when you get upset at something.
he buys you small things or expensive things because he thought you would like it. huh? so what if it's nearly the rent of your apartment? as long as his girlfriend likes it he has no regrets.
he flexes you when he notices people are googling at you, showing them that no one can have his pretty girl. only he can.
he just loves his pretty girlfriend so much and he is not afraid to show it
kimetsu no yaiba: RENGOKU, tanjiro, zenitsu, giyuu, GENYA, gyomei
hey hey listen..I was wondering if you could do the main 4 plus hisoka/illumi and maybe some other phantom troupe members with a s/o that loves drawing on their hands like I mean always comes back with a design all over her hands and arms
➣ a/n: a little short, but hopefully you still enjoy! thanks for the request 😚 it’s interesting to write about the troupe
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G.F
he enjoys the sight of your little doodles and even offers to let you draw on him.
after seeing you do this so frequently, he’d get an idea. instead of drawing on yourself with markers, why don’t you paint? this would be self indulgent for gon, since he found out he liked the sensation of the brush on his skin. but who knows? maybe it’s beneficial to you too if you like the new medium.
K.Z
he would tease you at first, calling it childish and messy.
“drawing on yourself again? pfft you’re gonna die of ink poisoning some day.”
don’t take that seriously because he actually finds your designs insanely cool. when he’s in a softer mood, he might sit and watch you draw, lost in thought and curious about your artistic process.
he loves anything with dragons and might even come up with a sketch of one you can do that runs all along your arm. you’d find it in one of his notebooks and surprise him the next time you saw each other.
K.K
kurapika would notice you doing this all the time if you worked with him. he knew that letting you sit in his lap as he researched meant his pens would eventually find their way into your hands.. he won’t say anything.
however, he would prefer you didn’t draw on his hands since he’s usually using them. it also comes off as a bit unprofessional for him to have doodles all over in front of a client. he might even hand you a notepad to encourage you to busy yourself a different way.
but man, imagine you drew chains up your arm and pretended to shoot chain jail at him or something. the sight would be so utterly endearing that he’d look away, the beginnings of a grin forming on his lips.
L.P
i can see leorio being the type to sketch things in the bylines of notes, tapping his pen against his chin—things that he picked up in med school. so when he sees you drawing on yourself, he can understand it. other than that, he really doesn’t care or notice most of the time.
he may point it out if your skin gets irritated or if you try to draw over broken skin. do that and he’ll pass you some sticky notes and tell you to draw on that instead.
H.M
this is the guy that draws teardrops and stars on his face every single day. your artistry is absolutely shared. perhaps he’ll even ask you to draw those symbols on him some days, so he can carry a little piece of you with him during battle.
maybe you’d draw a four leaf clover before one of his fights for luck—of which he’d promptly erase. why? because he doesn’t need it, of course.
I.Z
illumi is completely confused by this habit. he hardly understands most hobbies, so idle past-times like this make even less sense. but when it comes to you, he always lets you do as you please, accepting that he won’t understand your normality.
want to draw on him? he doesn’t care. just don’t be upset when he makes you wipe it off later.
C.L
watching you doodle on yourself is an endearing pastime for him. he’s honestly just fascinated by all of your behaviors. why do you draw on your hands instead of paper? is it a sign that you’re bored? some hint that you want to enter the tattoo artist occupation?
he’d ask you all of these things while you draw and you’d probably tune it all out. not that he cares; he hopes to find the answer himself.
extra!
UVOGIN
he loves your little quirk, telling you to decorate his torso and arms with your designs. he’s like a blank canvas for you, as long as you’re okay with his endless talking the whole time.
he will absolutely kill you if he catches you drawing a dick on him AND consider your doodling privileges revoked! indefinitely! (a word he learned from chrollo).
SHALNARK
also loves your creativity, though he insists that you use a digital platform instead. he’s even hacked into programs like adobe so you can have premium subscriptions, but you brush it off. you prefer your skin after all.
at that, he’s pretty confused, viewing things more technically. isn’t it more annoying because of how skin can move? or how the natural oils on your hands messes up the pen tip? after giving you a whole lecture on the disadvantage of hand drawing, you finally give in to trying digital art.
now, if you decided to draw on him instead, all of those cons would suddenly vanish.
SHIZUKU
draw on yourself all you like—she would take a long time to actually notice. one day she’d randomly spot your drawings, raising a brow at them.
“when’d you get those tattoos?” and after you explain that not only are they pen ink, but that they’ve been there for days, she’s very shocked that she didn’t see them earlier.
as for writing on shizuku? it’d be a huge help if you wrote out reminders for her, one she’d definitely thank you for.
PAKUNODA
she finds it super adorable of you, offering her own arms to draw on and even giving you ideas here and there. she’ll frequently ask you what you’re drawing, nodding her head as if especially interested in this little hobby.
one of her favorite things to do would be to cuddle while you doodle.
MACHI
machi’s very observant and would notice pretty soon after meeting you. she’d assume it’s a habit of boredom, so try not to do it mid-conversation. if you do? she’ll guide your chin up with her hands with a muttered:
“are you even listening?” and all of her usual sass. if you want to scribble on her, expect to be told no. but perhaps at night, when she’s laying in bed and much softer.. she might humor you.
FEITAN
he thinks it’s stupid and eyes you dubiously as you draw away on your hands during a troupe meeting. his gaze just keeps drifting over to you as chrollo talks. when he gets the chance to speak to you, the first thing he does is tug your hands closer so he can at least see the thing that took up all your attention.
“silly scribbles. why do them?”
when you tell him you were simply bored, he scoffs. don’t expect him to let you draw on him.. do, however, draw on his face while he sleeps. you might get the chance to watch pain packer after all.
A/n: Not odd at all, Of course I can. I appreciate the request ♡ (This did take a while to get to, apologies for the wait) Any characters missing that you'd like can be added! Hc w/ short scenario. Not proofread!
Gon
The boy was oblivious to the hair tools you constantly used to keep your hair the way he saw it as. You would be ready by the time he came around whether that would be your hair tucked back into your hood or straightened out.
Gon admired you whenever he had the chance to even if it was just a moment. He spent most of his time with you, tagging along or taking you on small adventures. Thus he assumed he had seen all your variants—which he adored equally.
He noticed when your face twitched when he would ruffle the top of your hair but he didn't think much of it. Gon would quit it after a few snickers apologizing half heartedly.
Gon was respectful of your space so he would find out on a whim that you had curls. It took him a second to register before he smiled while circling you. He was curious considering he hadn't seen your hair like that before.
It wasn't a big deal to him, not that it was insignificant but it wasn't something that changed how he felt about you. Gon asked many questions that ultimately ended with him poking at your hair and softly tugging at the strands.
Anytime after that he wouldn't exactly tell you what to do with your hair but would pout for a moment when he saw it wasn't naturally done. Gon would loudly state that he really liked your curly hair randomly to try to convince you to wear it like that more often.
Scenario
Gon would notice after spending a week away from you, it was a mere coincidence that he found out. He had gone back to whale island to visit his aunt Mito. He had told you he would be gone for a week give or take and he promised he would take you out after he came back.
You went on with your week as normal, sitting in welcomed silence. Gon wasn't on his phone much considering he enjoyed the outdoors more but he would call you on the beetle before bed. You didn’t mind much knowing the nature of your boyfriend. You didn’t think of how unannounced he was though.
Your hair was washed a few hours prior, you kept it as is due to it being unnecessary to apply any heat on it. You weren’t going anywhere other than staying in the comfort of your own home.
Besides, Gon was coming tomorrow which would give you time to style it. He hadn’t seen your natural hair before, due to your preference of keeping him in the dark about it. You had met him while your hair was straightened out and it stayed that way since.
Two weeks ago you had ordered something online, a shirt you found perfect. You tracked the order like crazy, and you decided to check like you have for the past days. To your surprise it said it was delivered a few minutes ago. You got up, practically skipping to your front door to get the package from your door step.
The door flung open in the process, your eyes flicked down. At first they moved to the package on the floor. Then they went up to the boy picking it up off the floor. “Gon?” You breathed out in confusion of him being a day earlier than expected and him being at your doorstep. A feeling of dread filled you realizing how you looked currently. It wasn’t technically a bad thing but he had never seen you like this before.
Gon was level with you by the time you thought of shutting the door. “Yeah, Hey!” He didn’t notice at first, too busy looking at your face. Then he took a good look at you, eyebrows furrowing.
After processing it for a moment he smiled, sliding into your home placing the package down on a side table. “Mmmm.. Did you do something different to your hair?” Gon asked not yet touching your hair but moving curiously around you.
“Different to you but I just didn’t do it. It's natural today.” Your eyes followed Gon moving around you, almost getting dizzy. He’s really fast. “Ah Natural..Your natural hair. You’ve never shown it to me before!” His focus shifted off your hair to you.
Gon hugged you first before kissing your cheek. “Let’s go out, I told you we would when I came back.” You stared at him before nodding, he closed the front door waiting patiently on the couch for you afterwards.
He wasn’t so patient afterall because he only let you change before ushering you out the door. His hand pressed firmly against your back forcing you to walk, “Gon, hey hey hold on!..my hair-” You only got a sneaky smile from him, “I think It looks good…We have to go already, No time!”
You caught him a few times lingering behind you coiling up your hair with his fingers that day.
Killua
Killua has his own strengths, almost all are physical. The few that weren’t physical, he had been learning over time with you and his friends. He was observant of you in his own way but he wasn't the best with signs.
He had noticed how attentive you were with your hair when the two of you were out. Killua often interpreted things wrong so he never asked you why you cared so much. He just assumed that you were much more careful with your hair compared to other people. It never crossed his mind that your hair could have been curly.
When he saw you, it was like seeing you for the first time again. Killua picked up on the change immediately, staring at you with wide eyes. He was shocked he hadn't figured it out on his own sooner. He was a bit frustrated with himself because it had been right in front of him for so long.
After he got over himself, he calmed into his normal expression. Killua did enjoy seeing your hair more than he would like to admit because it was your most natural state.
Killua would ruffle your hair when you start wearing it curly around him to hear you scold him. He hides your hair tools away from you when he doesn’t want you to use them. Expect him to use some of the tricks he had learned during childhood and sulk if they somehow don't work.
Scenario
The day had been full of you and the four spending time together. Gon walked in front of everyone while Leorio and Kurapika walked behind him to make sure he didn’t wander.
You and Killua behind the group with your hands intertwined. He had grown out of being embarrassed of public affection and instead embraced it with pink cheeks. It was 7pm, the five of you were headed to the lake considering the nice weather. You had been to that lake before, it was crystal clear surrounded by tall trees.
However the only other time you had gone with Killua was when you were sick. That was in December when the lake was frozen over so he shared a blanket with you instead. This time the lake had fresh running water that you could relax yourself in.
By the time you had gotten there, Gon was already taking off his shirt running into the water. Kurapika told him to slow down while Leorio yelled about something else. “Gon, you had to throw your shirt in my face?” Leorio's face twitched before he threw the shirt to the side begrudgingly.
You found a log to sit on, Killua followed, placing your bag he had been holding next to you. You could tell he was impatient to get into the water but he was acting suspiciously clingy. “You are getting in right?” The boy tilted his head at you, standing in front of where you sat. “Maybe, check the temperature for me please?” You barely finished your sentence when he ran to dip his fingers in before jogging back with a wide smile.
Killua nodded, “It’s good, fresh.” It was hard to hide your smile when he looked so happy. You took off the clothes you had as a cover before reaching into your bag. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that…I burn really bad.” He said while you applied sunscreen on his face and body.
He went in the water before you did, splashing around with Gon. All you heard was laughs and Leorio parenting them at times. Then you would hear your boyfriend calling him old, what a great day.
It took a moment of you not paying attention to them for Killua to sneak up behind you. “Gotcha!” He snickered while throwing you over his shoulder. “Put me down, I swear you won’t live another day-” Killua didn’t listen to a single word that came out of your mouth. He threw himself in the water along with you in his arms.
He brought the two of you up to the surface as quickly as he brought you in. “Whoops?” He hugged you to try to make you forgive him but you pulled his hair as revenge. “I hate you.” He whined letting go of you to run away from your grasp. “Geez-I’m sorry! Not sorry…”
Killua swam off to let you cool down from attacking him. You stayed where he left you, wiping the water off your eyes. You almost forgot that you had done your hair and Killua wet it all. The pieces were still semi straight considering you barely got thrown in but it was a matter of time before it returned to its natural state.
Could anything be done about it? No, you were in the middle of a lake far from your home. So instead you sulked silently sinking down into the water. So much effort into your hair to be ruined in a few hours.
When you didn’t come to bother or chase him he came back to check up on you. Killua was cautiously coming up to you, not ready to face any wrath you may have. “Are you okay-What happened to you?” He spoke as soon as he saw you before staring blankly at you. Killua pulled you up out of the water to see your hair in all its glory. “That’s yours?” He nodded slowly to himself answering his own question while he stared.
You almost thought he didn’t like it from the way he was burning holes into you. He picked up on that going back to his normal expression smiling at you instead. His eye twitched when he looked away from you, irritated how he didn't figure it out sooner. “It’s mine, yes.” You spoke slowly watching him look away before looking back.
“Looks nice, you should wear it like that more.” Killua scratched his neck, looking away sheepishly.
You couldn’t count the amount of times you had to yell at him to take your straightener out his hiding spot.
Kurapika
Kurapika is a busy man but he knows practically everything about you. Your habits, likes, dislikes, preferences, so it was from pure coincidences that he didn’t know you had curly hair. He definitely had a hunch considering he had helped pick up heat protectant from the store for you a few times.
The hunch wasn’t exactly the most accurate either since he assumed it was a bit wavy at most. There were times your hair had small dents from the hairclip or tie you had in that he thought was your natural hair. Kurapika was on the right track but walking backwards.
He didn’t react initially when he saw it. Your hair wasn’t something he would be turned upside down by. However at the moment he did seem even more soft spoken. A few hours later Kurapika would linger around you but he's so delicate that you’re a baby deer that'll run at any chance.
When he finally speaks up about it, he compliments you on it. He doesn’t tell you what to do with your hair even though he likes it curly. Kurapika likes you to be happy with your appearance but he will push you to use curly hair products instead of reaching for a straightener.
He’ll give you a small nod with a smile if you accept his silent offer.
Scenario
Kurapika had invited you over to his house after spending the whole day out together. The two of you were too tired, him to take you home and you to go home. He would've still taken you if you asked but the way you held his hand while he drove told him that it would be nice to have a sleepover.
Recently it had been hard for him to get a night of rest and you were like melatonin to him. The passenger door opened a few moments after he exited the car. “After you.” He spoke up with a slight smile holding a hand out for you to take. “Thank you.” You took his hand, walking at his side after he closed your door.
Kurapika led you to his front door, walking in after you made it in fully. His house was decorated with photos of you and some with the two of you. And what wasn’t a picture, was a trinket that reminded him of you in their own ways.
You felt exhausted by the day but not clean enough to lay down on his bed. His home was like yours so you could really do anything you pleased. Many of your own items had found their way out of your home to his home. “Kurapika, do you mind if I take a quick shower?” He looked at you before shaking his head, “No, not at all. Go for it, I’ll be in the room alright?”
Kurapika placed a hand on your shoulder, pecking your forehead before walking to his room. You went to the restroom, many of your items in the drawers and some of your towels awaiting you.
It took you thirty minutes to decompress in the water and then to actually clean yourself. The warmth of the water allowed you to relax before you came back to Kurapika. “I have some clothes for you… They’ll be outside the door!” A voice said somewhat loudly to be audible against the water.
After you dried up, you creaked the door open to get his clothes. You had clothes in his closet but he never gave you those to wear knowing that you preferred to wear his. That was a lie, he liked it much more than you did. Once you were dressed you went to his room leaning your head against the doorframe. “Hello, You look clean.” Kurapika silently laughed getting up from his bed.
His eyes flicked to your hair but he didn’t say anything more. It was sly enough for you not to notice that he noticed the curls slowly forming in your hair. Kurapika's gaze did soften while he led you to sit down with him.
He conversated with you, sitting and touching your hands more than normal. After an hour and a half, he hugged you, “Your hair looks beautiful love.” He took his head out your neck, “I’m going to head in the shower myself now.”
You stared at him before looking away, it was the way he said things that sounded so genuine. It was coming from the most innocent part of his heart instead of a place of necessity to say it. Kurapika chose to say it because he deemed it as true.
Leorio
Leorio in his way takes notice of your physical appearance but not quite into how you achieve it. He likes your natural beauty as much as he enjoys seeing you getting dolled up. Any version of you is beautiful to him.
However, he has no clue your hair is curly. It didn’t come up due to how perfectly you covered it up. It would come up randomly while the two of you were in the middle of a conversation. Leorio wouldn’t believe you at first until you told him you weren’t kidding.
After it finally registered that you were telling him the truth he would think about it for a moment. Then he would go on to say how pretty you’d look wearing your natural hair and why you hadn’t told him any sooner.
Leorio would want you to show him your actual hair almost immediately despite your hair barely being straightened. He would definitely be off put at first but he’ll end up loving it.
Nothing is forced upon you but he tells you to always have your natural hair around him because he likes seeing you at your truest.
Scenario
You and Leorio were across from each other having breakfast. You were in his home talking about whatever topic came to mind, taking turns adding on to what the other said. A few moments later, silence filled the air due to the two of you enjoying your meals.
Then he spoke, “Ever since I became a doctor…I never knew recessive genes would be so important.” Leorio looked up from his food before taking another bite. “Like what? How is it important?” You asked curiously, you assumed he wanted to be more of a hands on doctor rather than paperwork and such.
“Oh man…” He swallowed then took a sip of his water to prepare himself. “Do you know how many guys come in because they say their kids don’t have their features…Or people are confused where a trait comes from and come in to make sure it’s not a sign of something bad?”
You smiled, “How many-” “A lot.” He answered, “Like colored eyes, curly hair, hair color, Seriously Anything!” You shook your head, holding a finger up to show him you wanted to speak. “That’s weird, my parents never went to the doctor because my hair was different then theirs.”
Leorio thought about it for a couple moments, “But you don’t? You had curly hair growing up or something like that?” He took another bite waiting for your response. By that point you put your fork down, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him right?
“No, my hair is still the same. It’s just not how it naturally is, I straightened it.” His eyebrows furrowed staring at your hair. Leorio put some thought into it, was that why you told him a few times you needed time to finish doing your hair? That makes a lot more sense than what he assumed was just hair brushing.
“Can you show me?” You shook your head, “I barely did it, I am not wetting it for you.” He smiled, thinking of another plan. Leorio was quick to get to his knees, his hands moving to your legs. “Get up!” You squealed trying to swat him away, “You are soo embarrassing!” “Please, Please, Please-”
He begged until you stomped over to the sink, wetting a strand of your hair. His smirk was incredibly visible and he was not ashamed of what he had to do to get his way.
“Your hair looks so pretty like that-” “I don’t wanna hear it.” It was relieving to hear he did genuinely like it.
Chrollo
Chrollo had learned to trust you completely over time. Considering that he assumed he knew everything about you and expected you not to hide anything from him. Even if you did hide anything, he would find out eventually regardless if you knew that he did.
Your hair type was one of the longest and hardest things to uncover. However Chrollo found more evidence of it over time. It wasn’t worth confronting you over but he was definitely confused why you never wore your natural hair around him. He would find you beautiful in any state. So did you dislike it?
Well, he would make sure he would make you love it as much as he would.
Chrollo would only come up to you about it when he was sure. Even then, he tried to make it a bonding experience for the two of you.
Once he finally saw your natural hair, he seemed very satisfied with himself. Chrollo coddled you, complimenting your hair. You would have all the products you desired if you told him that you wanted to wear it natural onwards.
Scenario
You were in the silence of your room. In the middle of getting ready to go out with your friends, for a small dinner. You had already done your hair, doing it like you usually did when accompanied by other people.
A firm knock on your front door could be heard from the room you were in. You backed up from the mirror you were at to answer said door. Once you were at the door, you opened it slightly peeking through the slip. “Oh! You didn’t tell me you were coming by today.” You light up at the man in front of you.
Chrollo slipped into your home, “I’m sorry about that, forgive me. I came by to ask you something,” He placed a kiss on your temple then closed the door behind him. You hummed in return, “It’s alright, what's your question?” You walked off back to where you finished up getting ready.
Chrollo already knew you were going out with your friends which he didn’t mind. You had told him previously to make sure he didn’t worry if he showed up to an empty house. “You’re not hiding anything from me are you?” He leaned against the room door you were in.
“No,” You titled your head curiously, “I’m not. Where is this coming from?” Chrollo smiled, shaking his head slightly, “You never told me your hair was curly, or showed me. I'm curious dear, why haven’t you?” He noticed how your gaze shifted back to him suspiciously. “You’re an observant one. I guess…I just never got around to telling you.” You gave him the simplest explanation there was.
He stared at you, speaking quietly, “Do you mind me coming over tomorrow later in the afternoon?” “I don’t mind, that’s fine.” Chrollo nodded, “Don’t do anything to your hair, Alright? Have fun today.” He said his goodbyes, leaving as fast as he came.
The day prior Chrollo had told you to keep your hair natural. He seemed genuinely curious to see how your hair naturally lands. So you didn’t do anything to your hair, you had done a small routine but nothing to get rid of your curl pattern. You waited, he wouldn’t judge but the way he would take in every detail of you made you nervous.
Would he like it?
He was waiting at your door, a bag of items in hand while the other knocked. “It’s open!” You spoke out from your couch where you sat. “I’ve told you it's not safe to keep your doors unlocked haven’t I?” Chrollo spoke firmly but gently, making his way inside.
The door clicked locked before he put his focus back to you. “Oh wow,” Chrollo contentedly smiled. He walked over placing the bag on the coffee table in front of you before cupping your face in his hands. “You’ve hid this from me? How cruel.” He playfully spoke, “Hid? I wouldn’t say all of that.” You looked away, taking your face out of his hands.
“Yes, you hid a beautiful gift.” He moved his focus back to the bag he brought. Chrollo reached for it then had a seat next to you. “You’re too sweet…” He shook his head like you said something he found nonsense. “I brought you a few things, in case you don’t like wearing your hair because of how it behaves. The saleswomen said these would be the best for you.”
Chrollo handed you a bag of high end products that each had their own boxes. You slowly reached for each product, unboxing them, placing them on the coffee table, then grabbing the next. You couldn't finish before turning back to him, “I can’t accept all this, this most likely costs a fortune.”
“I insist, I'll help you apply it.” He reached for one you had already opened, “This one is a lightweight moisturizer if I’m correct?” You giggled to yourself watching him open the product. “If the reason that you don’t wear your hair natural is because you don’t like it or it's too much work, let me help you.”
That day Chrollo had learned how to apply products to your hair how you liked it. He took his time making sure you were satisfied with the outcome.
“Beautiful.”
Feitan
Feitan had no clue that your hair was curly. He cared about you and paid attention to your small habits he forgot to pick up on the big ones. The hairtools were something that he saw so often he just saw as normal.
He found out coincidentally when you had come over to see him. He would think about it the whole time you were in front of him, questioning if it was natural. Feitan eventually figured that it was real and the straight hair you always had wasn’t.
At the moment he didn’t say anything about it. He kept his normal demeanor but he kept it in mind until the next time he saw you. He had to think about what to say to you, that told you that he liked it without telling you directly that he did.
Feitan ends up telling you directly that he liked it.
Whenever you wear it naturally around him, he seems to stare at you more. He doesn’t say anything about it but you can tell he appreciates it.
Scenario
Phinks had called you, you didn’t receive many calls from anyone from the troupe so you picked up quickly. “Hey, I thought I’d give you a call because Feitan got pretty hurt doing…I don’t know what. Nothing too bad but I thought you'd want to come by.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Thank you.” You hung up getting up to leave your home. You hadn’t gotten the chance to straighten your hair considering that you had stayed home the whole day.
You've gotten calls similar to that and it brought your worries down but you still were a bit worried. The Phantom troupe did have a higher pain tolerance level compared to a normal person.
You got there quickly, entering the building where you assumed they hanged out most of the time. A few members saw you, already knowing why you were there just welcoming you. You greeted them back, then you found him.
Feitan was laying on one of the couches that they had laying around, his chest wrapped in bandages. It didn’t seem like it bothered him much considering how he was just zoned out staring at the ceiling. He did look a bit frustrated though.
“Hey, you okay?” You spoke softly to bring his attention to you. He probably already noticed that someone came in but your point still stood to not startle him. His head turned to you, immediately turning to your face or rather your hair.
He stared for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, Okay.” Feitan looked forward again, “Phinks called?” He asked, feeling your eyes look at his chest trying to almost see through the bandages. “Yeah, he did call. Does it hurt?”
He turned back to you, “Dumb, Not really. I’m Okay.” You took a seat on the other couch next to his. Feitan stayed there, it felt easier to fall asleep when you were there. So he did. You stayed there for some time before going back home when you deemed it time.
Two days later, he was already up and moving like he wasn’t still injured. You found him in your room, he sneaked through the window staring back at you. Your hair wasn’t done today either, you hadn’t found a reason to. “What brings you here?” You asked like he was a stranger which made you giggle a bit, “Aren’t you supposed to be healing?” Feitan huffed, approaching you, moving himself to face you as you moved.
“I said I’m fine, right?” He looked down for a moment, trying to get the words out. It seemed like it was quite a struggle for him, “Your hair…looks nicer like that.” You followed his finger pointing at your head.
Your boyfriend is awkward but he's definitely trying.
Shalnark
Shalnark is the type of guy to know everything about you, not from asking you. He would find out from stalking you, which he considers just keeping you safe. He keeps tabs on you, your location just to make sure you're alright.
The boy was always on his phone, so he would check every few minutes. Not like he was obsessed but just curious about your daily life. He would eventually find out when he was watching you.
It amused him to see that you still had surprises to you despite him watching almost all the time! Shalnark enjoyed seeing your hair like that, smiling excitedly.
He would want to see you as soon as possible. He would want to see it for himself, insanely curious.
It didn't phase him one bit, he was wondering why you didn’t ever mention it. Or ever let him see it. Shalnark is one of the more direct but lighthearted ones when it comes down to it.
He makes it clear that he likes the most genuine version of you but still makes sure you know he loves you regardless of how you choose to wear your hair.
Scenario
Shalnark wasn’t doing anything particular at the moment. He decided to check up on where you were, seeing the last street camera he saw you on. He was the most online compared to anyone else in the troupe so he had the newest technology he could get his hands on. That helped when checking up on you.
The quality was better compared to other people’s devices which he took pride in. Then he spotted you on the cam, in a crowd of people on the street. “Huh…” He smiled, but he was more confused than ever. Was your hair always like that? No. Couldn’t be.
Shalnark squinted his eyes, bringing the phone screen closer to his face. “Oh wow!” He laughed to himself, not from malicious intent but instead from genuine surprise. He put the phone down scratching his neck looking around. He wasn’t busy at the moment, so maybe he could beat you to your house. He knew you wouldn’t mind him stopping by.
You were walking home, you were just running quick errands. You just got a few groceries and a phone charger since yours was about at the end of its life. Your headphones were in, you didn’t pay attention to anything around you besides the signals of the street lights. You made it home in a couple minutes, not knowing your boyfriend had gotten there a few moments before you.
You unlocked your door, placing your stuff on the kitchen countertop after you locked it. Suddenly, you felt hands on your shoulders which made your heart fall to your stomach.
You turned back quickly to see your blonde boy staring back at you. His eyes moved to your face and your hair every millisecond. You pulled your headphones off hitting his chest, “You scared the shit out of me! You need to stop doing that, it's not cool!” Shalnark kissed you, trying to make it better. “You need to start paying attention to what's happening around you, getting kidnapped isn’t cool.”
You rolled your eyes at him, “Whatever.” His fingers moved to your hair, wrapping it around his finger. “You never told me you had curly hair…That hurts my feelings y’know?” He placed a hand over his heart with a smile clearly not meaning it. You forgot as soon as he scared you the fact he'd never seen you like that before.
“So you’re here to complain about it?” You smiled a bit amused, leaning back on the counter. “No, no not at all. I actually like it a lot. Even considering this is the first time I’ve actually seen it I do prefer it compared to when it's straightened.” Despite his expression, he was being genuine.
“You look really pretty, well you always do. But even more so now.”
A/n: This is all how I think they would be but If you don't agree that's fine! I'll improve to be more accurate to character since I am writing based on how they canonically are.
