You stretched under the blankets, bonnet halfway off, tryna run away in your sleep, beside you, Jaafar was still half asleep, his own bonnet somehow still sitting perfectly on his head.
You turned your head toward him and smiled.
"Today's wash day."
He opened one eye to look at you.
"...Already?"
You laughed.
"Already, I told you yesterday."
Jaafar groaned dramatically before rolling over to lay his face on your shoulder.
"I don't wanna."
"You say this every single time."
"Because every single time you torture me."
"You literally have curls. You need moisture."
"I need sleep."
"You need shampoo, I know it's crusty under there."
"Five more minutes, Mama."
"You said that twenty minutes ago."
"Did I?"
"You did."
— — — – – – – – –
About thirty minutes later, the bathroom looked exactly like it always did on wash days.
Products lined up across the counter.
Shampoo.
Deep conditioner.
Leave-in conditioner.
Hair masks.
Curl cream.
Mousse.
Hair oil.
Heat protectant.
Wide-tooth combs.
Detangling brushes.
Silk wraps.
Bonnets.
Shower caps.
Spray bottles.
Everything.
"Alright," you rubbed your hands together.
"My turn first."
Jaafar sighed, as if you'd just sentenced him to life in prison, before sitting on the little shower stool.
You gently pushed his bonnet back.
His hair immediately puffed out.
"There he is, my handsome baby."
He smiled.
"You say that every time."
"And I'll keep saying it."
He reached for your waist.
"And you're still the prettiest girl I know."
You smiled, kissing the top of his forehead.
"Flattery ain't gon' get you outta wash day."
"It was worth a shot."
— — — — – – – – –
Warm water ran over his curls as you carefully soaked every strand.
You massaged shampoo into his scalp.
Your fingertips worked in gentle circles across his head.
Jaafar's shoulders immediately relaxed.
"That actually feels nice."
"I know."
"...Babe."
"Hm?"
"Why the water so cold?"
You stared at him.
"...It's literally warm."
"It ain't."
"You so dramatic."
"I'm finna report you."
"You finna report me?"
"Yeah."
"To who?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I'll find somebody."
— — – – – – – – –
After the second shampoo, you rinsed everything clean before working conditioner through his hair.
When you finished, you pulled a shower cap over his head.
"There."
"Now sit."
"I've been sitting."
"Then sit quieter."
He rolled his eyes.
"Yes, ma'am."
— — – – – – –
"Your turn."
You slipped your bonnet off before undoing the four big braids you'd slept in.
Your natural hair fell around your shoulders.
Jaafar literally stopped blinking.
Even after all this time
He still looked at you like he'd never seen anything prettier.
"You know".
"I really love your hair."
"You've seen it a thousand times."
"And?"
"It still amazes me."
"You are such a sap."
"You love it."
"I do."
— — – – – – – – –
His hands were unbelievably gentle.
He wet your hair little by little before working shampoo through your curls.
His fingers massaged your scalp.
You actually closed your eyes.
"Okay."
"I get it now."
"Hm?"
"This feels amazing."
"Told you."
He smiled proudly.
"I know my job."
After your second shampoo, he coated every section with conditioner before twisting your hair up underneath another shower cap.
"There."
"Perfect."
— — – – – – – – –
Once you both finished letting the conditioner sit, you rinsed everything out together before moving into the bedroom.
Jaafar sat behind you while you sat comfortably on the floor between his legs.
He applied leave-in conditioner throughout your curls.
Section by section.
Then came the detangling.
He never rushed.
Never yanked.
Every knot was worked through gently while he quietly apologized whenever he accidentally pulled too hard.
"Sorry."
"You barely pulled it."
"I still felt bad."
You laughed.
"You're too sweet."
When your hair was finally detangled, he coated it with heat protectant before carefully blow-drying every section.
Tomorrow was your appointment for your braids, and he wanted your hair as healthy as possible before you got it done.
— — – – – – – – –
Then it was your turn.
You repeated the exact same process with his hair.
Leave-in.
Detangle.
Heat protectant.
Blow-dry.
The whole time, he just sat there letting you play in his hair.
"I could honestly fall asleep."
"You better not."
"I'm trying."
— – — — — — – – –
Once both of your hairs were finished
Face masks.
You stood together in the bathroom mirror, looking absolutely ridiculous.
Green clay covered both of your faces.
Jaafar pointed at your reflection.
"You kinda look scary."
"You literally look exactly the same."
"Fair point."
After rinsing everything off, you braided your own hair back into four loose braids before slipping your bonnet back on.
Then you turned toward Jaafar.
"Come here."
"My turn?"
"Yep."
His hair wasn't nearly long enough for proper braids.
That didn't stop you.
You somehow managed four tiny little braids sticking in completely different directions.
You stepped back.
"...Perfect."
Jaafar looked in the mirror.
"...Baby."
"Yes?"
"I look insane."
"You look adorable."
Before he could stop you
You had already taken three pictures.
"I'm posting these."
"You better not."
"I absolutely am."
He chased you around the room, laughing while you held your phone to your chest.
— — — – – — — — –
Eventually, both of you gave up.
You ordered dinner.
Layed up together underneath a blanket on the couch.
And put on Captain EO.
The original version, perks of dating a Jackson
Halfway through the movie
Neither of you were actually watching anymore, having seen it only a million times.
Jaafar more than you since he’s been watching it since childhood.
Your head rested against his shoulder.
His fingers traced shapes along your arm.
The food containers on the coffee table.
The TV continued playing in the background as you both just enjoyed the presence of each other.
Eventually
Both of you drifted off to sleep.
Bonnets still on, but not for long.
The same way you wished every day could end.
Tag list : @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg @simply-lovley44
holyyyy projection 😬😬😬. This is mostly for my black girlie but literally anyone can enjoy this. Ik this is unbearably cringy so um yeah 🫡
Sitting on the floor, surrounded by snacks, taken out extensions, and a mindless show playing on your MacBook as you and Miles worked through your hair. The other day, you claimed you missed your natural hair, so Miles offered to help you take out your boho braids, wash and do your hair. You knew he was trying to practice some styles so you accepted. After a lot of pleading and begging, you both convinced your parents to do a sleepover at Miles’ house as long as Ms. Morales watched over you both. So here you were, in one of Miles’ sweatshirts, dried gel flakes falling onto your lap, and the leftover breakfast Rio had made for you guys, forgotten on a cluttered desk.
“Mmm…How much is left in the back?” Your arms were tired; you’d been at it since early morning, and it was now 11:28.
Miles’s hands carefully rumaged through your hair, and you could hear him silently counting the rest of the braids. “Treinta…treinta y dos…treinta y cinco…About 38 braids left.”
You threw your head back in exasperation. “Are you kidding me right now?”
He laughed. “You’re the one who chose the extra-small knotless braids. No one forced you to do that.”
A grumble left your lips. “Shut up. I wanted to look cute.”
Miles rolled his eyes while playfully ruffling the hair that was already taken out. “You look cute with your hair in braids or out. Now, keep going. I still have to wash your hair.”
With a groan, you went back to working, using a wide-toothed comb to unwind each braid and take the extensions out. You were a little insecure about your hair. It wasn’t damaged or anything like that. Sometimes you just wish you had a looser curl pattern, as you see with other girls on TikTok. Maybe if you didn’t have type 4 hair, it would be longer. Luckily, you peeped some new growth, so hopefully that would show when you finished taking it all out.
After a few more hours, with a little help from Rio, who came to give you both lunch but ended up staying a while longer to tease Miles and take out some of your hair, you finally finished. Quickly, you stood up and stretched your limbs, which were aching from sitting in the same position for such a long time. As you were stretching, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair was now in a frizzy afro-like state, and your sweatshirt was covered in white flakes. Slowly, your hand reached up to tug a piece of your hair down to check the length. It stretched a little past your collarbone, but still not as long as you wanted it. Thoughts started to swirl throughout your brain.
It’s not long enough …
No one is going to like how it looks…
Maybe you should straighten it?
Your hair isn't pretty.
Miles walked back into the room with a box filled with hair products and tools. He saw you standing in front of the mirror, hands in your hair, eyes blanked out. He nudged you with his foot, jolting you back to reality. “Oye, you good?” You could hear the concern in his voice.
Quickly, you shook your head as if the action could shake your self-deprecating thoughts away. “Yeah…yeah, I’m good. Just tired…”
Miles raised his eyebrow as if he didn’t believe you, but chose not to say anything. “Aight…whatever you say.”
The bath was already running, and you could see the mirror fogging up from the rising steam. One stool was already set up on the ground, and Miles placed the box he was holding down into the sink. Slowly, you took off the sweatshirt Miles gave you, leaving you in a black tank top and plaid pajama pants. Miles ushered you to sit on the ground before sitting on the stool himself with a brush. He picked up the shower head and flicked it on before gently lowering your head against the edge of the bathtub.
Warm water caressed your scalp as Miles’s hands tenderly started to massage your hair. A wave of tranquility washed over your body as your hair started to feel heavier and heavier. It felt like heaven, you haven’t had a good hair massage in forever. Miles started to work shampoo into your hair, being extremely careful not to cause any breakage.
“You know, your hair is very beautiful.” Miles quietly commented while rinsing out the shampoo in your hair.
You smiled grimly. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but it’s damaged…”
“Well, it’s still beautiful.” He grumbled under his breath before adding conditioner to your hair.
Now and then, he’d pat your arm to make sure you were doing alright, or if he was being too rough on your head. You shook your head each time, not wanting to be a bother. Once the final rinse was done, Miles stood up before grabbing your arm so you could stand up too. You gingerly rubbed your neck because it was a bit cramped from being against the edge.
You both walked back into Miles’s room, a towel around your neck as you sat down in a chair. You pulled out your phone to scroll through Pinterest and searched for a style that would last you a few weeks. A few things came up, mini twists, mini braids, cornrows, or just a plain afro, but none of them really spoke to you. The mini twists would probably turn out short due to shrinkage. You didn’t think your hair was thick enough for mini braids, and you didn’t want a boneless afro.
Miles looked over your shoulder to take a peek at your phone. “I think this would look good on you,” he pointed to a picture of a girl with six cornrows in the front and two buns in the back.
You frowned slightly, fidgeting with your damp hair while staring at the style. “I don’t know…I don’t think my hair is long enough for that one.”
Miles tilted his head at you in confusion. “What do you mean? Your hair is healthy and past your shoulders…”
A sigh left your lips as you turned your phone off and put it down before staring at yourself in the mirror in front of you. Your hair was now shrunken up to your chin, coils sticking to your upper neck, not even touching your shoulders anymore. You couldn’t really explain how you felt to him. It wasn’t like you hated your hair or anything like that; you just wished it were longer.
Miles saw the contemplative expression on your face and took your chin into his hands.
“Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with your hair, it’s beautiful just like you.” He pressed a soft kiss against your cheek before tilting your head to face the mirror in front of you. “If anyone says there’s a problem with your hair, then ignore them. They’re probably just jealous of you.”
You nodded your head slightly while staring at yourself. You still felt insecure about it, but Miles made you feel a lot better than before.
“Thanks, Miles…for all of that. It means a lot.”
“No hay de qué, cariño.” Miles pressed two more kisses onto your face, one on the opposite cheek and another on your forehead.
I hope you enjoyed and this is low-key my first one shot from a whileeee ago. Duke is up next thank you so much for da support 🥹🥹🥹
it's sunday your gf billie helps you with your hair care routine.
a/n:HAPPY belated BHM YOU GUYSS ! ik I haven't been very active recently but I wanted make it up to you guys by feeding you a one shot.
it was that time again. wash day. I never really liked wash day especially because I have SO MUCH hair. but, none the less it still has to get done. luckily I have some help today. my girlfriend billie offered to help me with this very strenuous process.
"billie baby!" I shouted from the bathroom.
"yes my love" she replied.
"i'm ready" I called out to her.
"okay, i'm coming babe"
a few seconds pass by and she's behind me in a flash. I had played out all of the products we'd be using for my hair already. just to make it easier for billie. I had also taken down my hair so now all she has to do is just help me add the product add make sure it's spread evenly throughout my hair.
i take off my clothes and step into the shower. billie shortly follows behind me. I start to get my hair wet under the shower head as billie picks up the shampoo, and puts on my wash day playlist. once my hair is damp enough I take one of the four rubber bands I section the top left part of my hair. I do the same for the other 3 sections of my hair. then, billie waits for my cue to start shampooing the first section of my hair.
she takes the hair tie off then she gets to business. once the first section is done. she moves onto the second part of my hair, softly massaging the product into my scalp. after she's shampooed all four of the sections it's time for me to stand under the water again. and try not to get the water in my ear. I've always hated that feeling since I was a little girl. it's just so uncomfortable.
"you good baby?" billie softly consoles. rubbing my back if slow soothing circles.
"yea b. I'm good." I reply.
with less hesitation I tilt my head back towards the shower head letting the warm water run through my hair. and, surprisingly the water doesn't get in my hair. it actually feels kind of relaxing. and once all off the shampoo is out of my hair. I scrunch my hair slightly and wring out most of the remaining water.
billie picks up the conditioner and squirts some of the product onto her hand and runs it through my hair. making sure to get every little spot, and section. she softly scratches my scalp, and messages my head.
"does that feel good ma?" she mumurs.
"mhm" I humm in approval.
soon enough it's time to wash the conditioner out of my hair. I put my hair under the shower head again and run my fingers through my hair. scratching, and rubbing my scalp as the warm water cleanses my hair. and before I know it, it's time to get out. I ring my hair out, and Billie helps me step out of the shower and onto a towel. she gets me a towel to dry off in, and a new change of clothes.
once I dry off billie takes some leave in conditioner and puts in my hair spreading it evenly throughout my whole scalp. once she's done with that, then she takes some jojoba oil and distributes it into my hair.
finally we make our wake into the living room. we turn on euphoria and start putting my hair into a protective style. while billie's working on the back of my hair. I do the front. we take a little breaks in between sections because I start to cramp if I sit down for too long. we conversed about any and everything while working on my hair. once we finally finished my hair. billie bought us some food and fruit. we cuddled together and ate.
I just had to think to myself how much I love, and appreciate my girlfriend. she always knows how to magically relieve my stress. I love her so much, I really don't know what I did to deserve a girlfriend this perfect. we talked and laughed for hours before we both knodded off. we were both just so exhausted. I truly wouldn't rather anyone else lay by my side.
a/n:ik I've said this a million times but i'm so sorry i've been away for so long. i've just been so busy with school, and i'm going through a huge depressive episode but I really I hope that you enjoyed this oneshot. ik it was very short but I wanted to give you guys something. I rlly hope it wasn't too shitty, but I love you! take care.
taglist(tell me if u want to be added!): @jusdolls @ilomilobabyy @cookispark @maybelu7 @bilsluvbird @emecstlk @mars245ix @etherealdiva69 @amoravelee
I got 6 skeins here, all of them washed in warm soapy water, then temp shocked (moved between warm and cold water 2x), rinsed and wrung.
Snapped them a few times between my arms and hung them up outside.
First skein:
Dyed wool braid (corriedale 60% , cheviot 29%, bond merino 11%) by Ethereal Medusa, purchased from Cat and Sparrow
Chain plyed
Second Skein:
Same as first, different colours!
Also chain plyed
Third skein:
Dyed braid of Merino wool 50% and mulberry silk 50% by Glenhaven Knits
Biggest improvement from washing and setting, so much more balanced!
Chain plyed
Fourth Skein:
Lil 50gm ball of Finnish wool roving by Fleece Flock and Fibre
Really love the feel, it not course or scratchy at all, and so light.
2 ply
Fifth and Sixth Skeins:
(image limit reached :( sad)
One ball of Charollais roving split into 2 skeins, also bought from Fleece Flock and Fibre. It's amazing stuff, my first time with this breed. The skeins are 2 ply, and so bouncy and squishy! Heaps of elasticity!
Going to be keeping my eyes open for more of this.
DRABBLE: HE & YOU ON WASH DAY 🫧 (18+) (JJK) (For Black!Fem!Readers)
Writer’s Note: I came up with this little Drabble after seeing a video of a Black girl teaching her white BF how to wash, moisturize, derange & do her hair. It was soooo CUTE & stuck in the back of my head, so I decided to let my inspiration flow. Thank God too cuz i realize i haven’t written a Drabble in literally FOREVER. I’ll make an effort to put out more before 2025 comes. I hope y’all enjoy!
I also tried to incorporate different types of Black hairstyles, textures & types for each character. All comments are welcome on front (but keep it respectful). Thank you & again, enjoy! -Jazz 🥰
*******
GOJO
This man swears he knows what he’s doing.
You’ll admit that Gojo is good at everything: singing, dancing, gaming, cooking, fighting, yapping…especially yapping. He’s also good at being a boyfriend. He is the most attentive, affectionate, loving man you’ve ever met and you’re so grateful to have him—the handsome, sexy, popular Gojo Satoru—as your partner.
He manages to help you with everything else you don’t have enough time to get to or are having trouble with, such as cooking and cleaning. What’s the difference between that and washing your hair, he wonders? When you tell him that your hair is much different and requires a traditional regime that could last HOURS, Gojo just waves you off.
“Baby, c’mon,” he scoffs, holding you in his lap and squeezing you to him as if you’ll disappear. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m good at everything. You think I can’t help you out with your pretty hair?” He gives you a big, confident, gigawatt smile that makes you melt.
“You sure?” You ask, your arms wrapped around his neck as he places his hands on your hips. He rocks you in his arms like you’re his baby…which you are. He always shows that any chance he gets. “‘Cause it’s a job, ‘Tarou. My hair isn’t like yours.”
Gojo scoffs, running a hand through the maze of dark kinky twists that is your hair. “Obviously,” he chuckles. “And I love that. I love your hair and I wanna help you take care of it! C’mon, what’s the rocket science in washin’ hair?”
But that self-assurance and cockiness quickly fades when you show him all the products you use for your hair, explaining each one in great detail. Then you show him the proper way to wash your hair which results in him getting water all over himself and the floor. Then, once you’re done, you try to show him how to detangle, moisturize, and cornrow your hair with a comb but to also rely on your fingers to do the work.
By the time you finish, you do most of the work while Gojo sits there looking like you just tried to explain to him why the Earth is flat. Poor baby’s blue eyes are so wide that you’re afraid they’ll roll out of his skull. He is down in the dumps afterward, snuggling into your chest. “I’m sorry, babe,” he mutters into your boobs. “I fucked up. I’m no good at this shit.”
You coo to him, running a hand through his white locks. “Satoru, baby, it’s not a big deal—“
“Yes the fuck it is!” He protests, sitting up to look at you. “You’re my girlfriend! I should know how to do your hair! But don’t worry; I’m gonna learn all about this if it fuckin’ kills me.”
And he makes you hold him to that. Not the type to give up or give in, Gojo spends the next week learning everything there is to know about Black hair: your type of hair; how to take care of it; if creams or oils work best to keep it moisturized; how to cornrow for beginners, etc. You let him drag you to the hair supply store to buy products and practice on you, giggling to yourself about how cute he is trying to do all of this for you.
After two weeks, you and Gojo go for round two. This time, you let him take the reins washing your hair. He is attentive and delicate with your hair, his long fingers scrubbing and massaging the shampoo in. You find yourself sighing at the feeling, melting at his touch. “You like that, baby?” He asks among the running water.
Chuckling when you hum in agreement, he presses a kiss to the back of your neck as you stand bend over the sink. “Y’know, I could always relax you more with somethin’ else,” he whispers.
That’s when you feel his very obvious hard dick pressing against your ass. You gasp, reaching back to swat him. “Gojo!” You whine. “You freak!”
“What?” He protests, grinning. “Ya can’t blame me for gettin’ hard by this! You look hot with your natural hair, babe, and runnin’ my hands through it is even better. It’s so soft and pretty, like you!” He grinds his hips into your ass, giving you a feel of the hot bulge pressing against his sweatpants. And you know he’s free-balling, the slut. No boxers at all!
“Y’know,” he says, his voice sultry and teasing, “all I have to do is pull these little shorts down and—“
“Uh-uh!” You shout, tossing some soapy water at him. He dodges it effortlessly. “Not while you’re supposed to be helpin’ me, asshole! Now maybe if you do a good job with my hair, we can do somethin’ about your very big problem.” You bend over the sink again, giggling when you brush your ass against Gojo’s hard dick and emit a groan from him.
And ‘do a good job’ he does, surprisingly. After you wash and condition your hair with his help, Gojo sits you down between his long legs and towel dries your hair before helping you successfully moisturize and plat it in small, wet cornrows going down your scalp.
This takes about an hour and during it all, Gojo is patient and loving with your hair. He detangles each knot with a comb, delicately threads each strand of hair, and doesn’t complain about how long it takes.
And you fall more in love with him during that hour.
Once done, he sits on the edge of the bed like a patient dog waiting for its treat while you admire his work in the mirror. After a few seconds, you slowly turn to him and smile. “Not bad,” you comment. “Not bad at all.” He breaks out into a gigantic grin. “I told you!” He laughs before yanking you over.
You giggle as you fall into him, straddling his lap. “Now, what’s about you doin’ somethin’ about my ‘very big’ problem?” He whispers, grinding his hips up into yours. Sure enough, he’s still hard. Pressing a slow kiss to his lips that steals your breath, you sneak your hands down to untie his sweats. “Let me show you,” you whisper. “After all, you did just a good job for me.”
Many hours later, after making him cum his brains out down your throat and putting you into the mattress, Gojo wants to be part of your wash days ALL THE TIME now.
CHOSO
This cutie patootie wants to know everything and anything about your beautiful hair. He loves it soooo much!
He loves staring at it and watching how it glows in the sunlight. He loves how bouncy your curls are when you walk. He loves running his hands through it when you kiss (though most of the time, he’s afraid to touch it in fear of ruining it).
Any time he catches you sitting in the bathroom doing your hot oil treatment, he asks so many questions:
“Why do you need to wear that big-ass helmet?”
“If you use hair grease and hair oil, won’t that oversaturate your hair?”
“How do you do this every single day? Doesn’t that get tiring?”
“Why don’t you let me help you one day?”
You love your hair too. It took you years to grow and maintain it, so you take your long, bouncy curls very seriously. So you have your own regime, especially when drying and setting your hair once it’s clean.
When you explain all of this to Choso at the hair supply store, the man looks like you’re trying to explain another language to him. “What does ‘set’ mean?” He asks as you drag him to the hair care aisles. “What does that have to do with washing your hair?”
“No, no, no,” you hurriedly say, searching the shelves for that one scalp grease that you always use. You ran out, so that’s why you dragged Choso out of the house to go get more plus a new bonnet and a comb because your favorite one broke.
“That comes AFTER I wash my hair. ‘Setting’ means sectioning and putting my hair in curlers so they come out the way you like.”
Choso stops with his hand still in yours, standing between some shelves of creams and some shelves of shampoo. You turn to him, confused. “What? Baby, you agreed to help me! We’re losin’ daylight here!”
You motion to the outside where the sun is shining and the sky is blue. “The way I like?” Choso parrots. You blink, perplexed. “You said you set your hair so it comes out how I like,” he clarifies. “Do you not like it when your hair comes out another way?”
He cocks his head to the side, his pierced brow quirked slightly. You feel yourself grow hot with embarrassment in his black hoodie that you “borrowed” (stole, but he gave it to you anyway, loving how it looks on you instead) from him.
“Uh…w-well, no girl likes it when her hair doesn’t come out right,” you mutter. “I just like it when my hair looks pretty…y’know…sexy.”
Choso’s expression softens, making him look so much like a soft-eyed teddy bear despite his tattoos and piercings. He is aware of your slight love-hate relationship with your hair when it’s not ‘hair-ing’ right.
You love it when your curls are the right length and bounce. It makes you feel so feminine and sexy. Sexy enough to let Choso pull on them during sex and run his fingers through it during a sloppy, slow make-out session.
Not when it’s frizzy. Not when you just get it wet and it shrinks back to its natural itty-bitty kinks. Not when it’s—
“Stop it.” As if he can hear your thoughts, Choso puts his hands on your shoulders and gently coaxes you to look up at him. Into his pretty, gray eyes. “You know damn well I love your hair no matter what it looks like,” he softly says. “You should too, babydoll. Don’t sweat that shit.”
He takes your hand and puts it on his head, right between his spiked ponytails. “You think I give a fuck about what my hair looks like all the time?” He asks, smirking.
You cluck your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Yeah,” you mutter, “but you’re a guy! And Black hair is much different than yours. A-And there’s so many different types and—Mmph!”
You moan in surprise as Choso’s lips suddenly press against yours, silencing you. His lip ring pushes against your bottom lip, cool and enticing. It grounds you.
When you pull away, he brushes your nose with his in an Eskimo kiss—one thing he only does in private because of how “cutesy” it is. “You feel better now?” He asks. You nod, winded from his kiss.
“You gonna let me buy you your shit and not have a panic attack in the middle of the store?” He asks. Once again, you nod, a smile stretching onto your lips.
“And you’re gonna remember you’re my pretty little girlfriend no matter what, right?” He whispers, sliding a hand against your ass as you both start to walk again.
You nod, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Mmm-hmm,” you shyly hum. “And you’re my hot little boyfriend.” You slide your hand down to his ass, squeezing it.
Choso blushes hot red, tsking. “I’m not little,” he grunts, making you laugh.
GETO
Admittedly, Geto has never thought too much about hair….that is until he met you.
He couldn’t get enough of your beautiful, long braids that swayed in the breeze. How they accentuated all of the shapes, lines, and features of your pretty face. How you wore it up, down, twisted…even braided! He didn’t even know you could braid braids! But when you showed up on your first date with the black coils in one big French braid, he was sold as yours and yours alone.
He didn’t know you could wash braids too without taking them out, but now he does. When he comes home from running errands (gym and picking up some lunch), he hears the shower running and you humming to Giveon, which means you're still washing your hair.
He smiles, placing the paper bag of stir fry and your favorite drink on the counter. “Baby!” he calls. “Food’s here!” He takes off his shoes and puts them at the door, just about ready to get some water after his vigorous workout when he hears something fall and your pretty voice yelp in pain.
“Ow!” you shriek. Geto quickly springs into action, running up the steps in his polo socks and gym shorts. He nearly slips across the floor and breaks his neck when he gets to the bathroom. “Baby?” he calls. “Baby, what happened? Did you fall?”
You're standing in the shower in your soaked bra and panties, sudsy, foamy shampoo running down your braids. “No, worse!” you groan, holding your left eye. “I got shampoo in my eye! God fuckin’ dammit, that burns!”
You try to grab a towel, but Geto stops you. “Uh-uh, don’t move,” he orders. “Let me do it." He helps you out of the running shower and holds your wet braids back for you. "Lean your back head.” You do so and he wets a washrag before dabbing it on your eye.
After a minute, your eye stops stinging and you're able to open it. Geto dabs away water and soap dripping down the side of your face. “Bad hair wash day, I’m assuming?”
You nod, huffing in embarrassment and frustration. “One of my braids smacked me in the face and I almost went blind. This is usually a messy job, so I do ‘em in the shower.”
Geto stares at you in confusion, puzzled by what you mean. “So you...wash your braids?” he curiously asks. “How does that work?” He looks like a puppy being taught a new trick and you find it so endearing.
“Oh, you just massage the shampoo in the scalp and down the braids,” you explain, motioning to your scalp. “It gets the gunk from hair product and dirt out. Then I put my braids down to let the water wash everything out.” You sigh, rubbing your sore forearm. “My arms are so tired though,” you groan.
You've been at this for almost an hour now since Geto left to run errands and have barely gotten through it yet. Then you still have to blowdry your braids to make sure your entire scalp is dry which makes another whole hour. Noticing the stressful look on your face, Geo decides he doesn' like i and wans o help his baby a any cos. “Lemme help you then.”
You blink a him, watching as he takes off his socks and begins washing his hands under he showerhead. “What?!” you exclaim. “Sugu, baby, no, i-it’s fine! It’s not a two-person job and you’ll get your clothes all wet and—“
“Who said anythin’ about clothes?” he cuts in. He gives you a humored smile as he begins to peel off his white tank top. “That’s a silly thought, but a cute one.” Flashing his pearly whites at you, he strips off his shirt, revealing his perfectly-defined, toned upper and lower torsos. Your eyes roam over his squeezable pecs, both nipples pierced, big, inked arms, washboard abs, and cut V-line and sides littered in tattoos. He’s truly a beautiful specimen, your boyfriend.
As he tosses his shirt to the side, you suddenly don’t want to wash your hair anymore. Instead, you’d like to wash Geto’s delicious body, see it drip with water and soap, and then do it all over again because you end up fucking each other instead. “B-but…your hair,” you weakly protest. “It’ll get all wet.”
Geto smiles, pulling a hairband out of his pocket and tying his long hair up in a bun. That only arouses you more. “Hush, my love,” he coos, pressing a finger to your lips. You resist the urge to suck on it. “Don’t worry about me—worry about these gorgeous braids.” He takes your hand and guides you into the shower. While you stand near the running water, he stands behind you, making your entire body feel hot and tingly. “Just tell me what to do.”
The hair-washing process only happens for about ten minutes. As soon as you feel Geto’s thick fingers massaging your scalp and running through your braids, gentle and careful, your pussy flips into overdrive and gushes in your panties. Soon, your undies come off, Geto’s shorts come down, and hands are roaming over body parts and skin. Lips are on lips, tongues are swirling together, his hands are on your ass, and yours are all over him.
Soon, that somehow leads to him picking you up and fucking you against the shower wall, your moans swallowed up by the water and Giveon playing on your phone. His cock drives deliciously in and out of you as his hips grind against yours, your legs and arms tightly wrapped around him. “I didn’t know this was a part of your routine, baby,” he pants in your ear. “But if it is, count me the fuck in.” His hand is in your hair, your braids wrapped around his fist. “Want me to tug ‘em harder, mama?”
“Yes!” You desperately shout. “Yes, Sugu, please! I’m so close!” You can feel your cunt spasming around him, your hand slipped between you and him to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. Geto picks up the pace, his yummy moans and grunts filling the steamy shower as he pounds your pussy against the shower wall. “Pull my hair,” he pleadingly says. “Do it hard, baby. I’m ‘bout to cum too.”
You do as he says and dig your fingers into his hair, tugging on the wet, black locks. He groans at the feeling, his eyes fluttering shut and his handsome face screwed in ecstasy. Seeing him like that makes you cum instantly, a high-pitched moan of his name leaving your lips.
His own orgasm is triggered too and quickly pulls out before cumming in unison with you all over your thighs and the shower wall. His lips swoop yours up in a hot, slow tongue-kiss that makes your intense orgasm that much more explosive as your body loses tension and you feel like mush.
Finally, Geto pulls away, his eyes hooded and a lazy smile on his face. “Oh, look,” he chuckles. He points to your wet braids and his dripping hair. “All clean.”
NANAMI
He can’t get enough of your Afro.
Seriously. He stares at it any chance he gets. On his free time, when he isn’t working or telling Gojo to leave him alone, Nanami is calculating the circumference of your perfectly-round, full Afro and how long it takes you to get it in such a perfect, round shape. How does it defy gravity the way it does? Does it ever deflate? What do you do to make it so soft? He often wonders this when you allow him to touch it. He feels so blessed that you bestow such an honor to him.
He realizes later that maintaining such a beautiful hairstyle is a lot of work. One day, on a boring Sunday that is meant as your “self-care” day, he watches you as you sit near the kitchen sink in a chair, your thick hair sectioned into four parts with scrunchies. He’d laugh at such the cute yet silly look you’ve got going on if you didn’t look so sad and defeated doing it. You’ve only gotten through one part, washing it by hand with shampoo.
Wanting to make things easier for his love, Nanami moves behind you and wraps his arms around you from behind. “You look so tired, my love,” he sighs. “Why don’t you let me help you?” You look up at him, confused. Nanami has watched you wash your hair a couple of times to know what you do and what you use.
He first coaxes you to stand up and turns the chair around so you’re facing away from the sink. After filling the sink up with warm water, he rolls his sleeves up to his forearms, much to your liking, and lathers his hands up in your favorite lavender-mint-rosemary shampoo. He takes one part of hair out of your scrunchie and proceeds to scrub it, lathering it in the soap. He does the same to the others, massaging your scalp in the process.
Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his skillful and careful hands in your hair, your body relaxing in your chair. “Oh,” you moan. You haven’t had anyone wash your hair for you since your mother when you were young. And to have your partner, who isn’t Black, do such a good and careful job with your hair is such a sweet gesture of your kind of love language.
“That feels nice?” He asks, happy to hear the sound. You press your lips into a thin line, humiliated by the sound slipping out of your mouth. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he chuckles. “I want you to relax. Wash days should be relaxing, not…” He pauses, searching for the right word.
“Fuckin’ stressful?” You offer, sighing as the warm water cascades over your scalp. “Yeah, but you’re not the only carryin’ around a big ass ball of hair on your head.” Nanami laughs, pressing. Kiss to your forehead. “A beautiful ball of hair, actually.” He works the water through your hair from root to tip, taking gentle care of each strand of your hair. You melt into his touch, falling in love with him deeper and deeper.
Once he finishes washing your hair, he empties the sink of all of the water and tells you to lean back so your hair can drip into the sink. “This actually kinda feels like a spa,” you giggle. Maybe you can give me a massage after this.” Nanami chuckles, flinging the water and suds off of his hands before chastely kissing you on the lips. “Let me get the towel.”
You keep your eyes closed as he leaves and quickly returns with a towel. First, he lathers your hair up in conditioner, gently massaging your scalp with the thick, creamy, floral-scented substance. Then, suddenly, you feel something cold over your eyes and hear the sound of relaxing flute music playing from somewhere. “What are you doin’, sir?” You giggle.
You feel Nanami’s lips ghost over your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Shh, no talking at the spa” he whispers. His hands are firm yet gentle as they press into your temples while your hair drips into the sink. “Can I get you a drink, miss? Perhaps you’d want massage here?” He begins to trail his fingers down your neck, each place his fingers touch leaving a trail of fire. “Or maybe…here?”
He trails down to your shoulders, giving you a firm rub. As he does, your nipples harden beneath your sports bra and your sweats suddenly feel entirely too tight. “You’re getting warmer,” you purr. A soft, seductive hum comes from Nanami’s throat that drives you insane as his hands trail down to your chest.
“You mean…here?” He gently cascades his hands over your breasts, brushing against your hard nipples beneath the thin material of your sports bra.
His hands then go back up to your shoulders, teasing you. You whimper, desperate for attention. “That’s not fair,” you whine. “You’ve got me all warm now.” Your boyfriend chuckles, his fingers kneading your shoulder muscles. “I thought that was the point.” He suddenly pauses. “Or…do you mean…”
You take the cold compress (which you find is an eye mask) off of your eyes to look up at your man and slowly move your hand to cup his cock. To your joy, you find that he is semi-hard. Nanami tuts but keeps your hand on his dick. “Miss, this is very improper for a spy,” he says, mock-offended. He leans down toward you, his minty breath fanning across your face. “But I suppose I could make an exception for you.”
He leans in closer, closer, and you think he’s going to kiss you. You lean up, desperate for his lips on yours. “After I condition, dry, moisturize, and grease your hair,” he adds. He turns the water on again and puts the eye mask back on your eyes. “What?!” You squeak. “Kento, nooo, pleeeease!” Your pussy throbs in desperate, insisting that he touches you right here, right now.
Nanami presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “No whining,” he says. “Besides, all good things come to those who wait, my love.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before you feel the warm water on your hair rinsing out the conditioner. “Now enjoy your spa session.”
You do. You enjoy all of the work Nanami does on your hair, including what you instruct him to do. But truth be told, you enjoy the work he does on your body two hours later in the comfort of your bedroom.
With your hair safely wrapped up in a towel and bonnet for extra protection, your leg is tossed over Nanami’s broad shoulder as his hips piston into yours, his cock stroking your insides and his fingers teasing your clit. “Told you good things come to those who wait,” he grunts. “Are you gonna cum for me now?”
You vigorously shake your head, staring up with heart eyes at the handsome blonde above you. “N-No!” You whimper. “Not until you say, Daddy! I promise!”
Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your ankle that nearly has you combusting all over the sheets. “That’s my good, pretty girl.” Your boyfriend has now become a new and important addition to your wash days.
