Damon Albarn Haircut Novels & Stories

Damon appeared in the doorway, barefoot, his phone already in his hand. “What’s wrong?” he typed. “I… I had a nightmare,” I whispered. He read my face carefully, then typed again: “Come here. I’ll give you a hair massage. It helps.” I frowned. “A hair massage? Seriously?” He raised a brow. I sighed. “Fine. But if you break my skull, I’m suing you.” He chuckled silently, motioning for me to sit in front of him. His fingers brushed through my hair—rough at first, almost impatient.

He said in a small voice. I rolled my eyes. "I will if you're ugly." He looked hurt. "Fine," I sighed. "I won't make any jokes about how ugly you are if you're ugly." Damien let out a breath before pulling a hair tie from his wrist. He gathered his black hair and tied it into a bun, then turned to face me fully for the first time. And I almost choked on my own spit. Damien was not ugly. Far from it.

She used to get startled by his desire to be naked but got used to it by now. "Your haircut!" she suddenly remembered. "Your barber fixed an appointment for you this evening. So don't forget," she walked closer. "You have long hair and your hairline is perfect too..." she wanted to touch his hair but held back her urges. "A classic pompadour hairstyle will suit you best...it will go well with your beard too..." "Pompadour, huh?" Jeremy asked, running his fingers through his hair. His barber always asks him to style his hair that way, but he'd refuse since he doesn't like to put much effort into styling his hair every day.

‘You’re cutting it short? ‘All I’m doing is taking off the ends to improve the condition and cutting in a few layers to soften it. Damian threatened never to use me again if I ruin your beautiful hair, although if you want my personal opinion—’ Dana squinted at her ‘—I think it would suit you short.’ He liked her hair. The thought went round and round in her head. He liked her hair.

Damon turned me again pulling his fingers in my hair as he asked me, "may I?" I nodded because it was two difficult to speak. Damon didn't show a single sign of grief. He just said that he is extremely happy and that this is happiest day. I almost fucked it up here as the silence consumed both of us. Damon pulled out a bunch of flowers and pins from my hairs and kept them aside. My hairs were log and black and now they were even curled deeply. He smoothed my hairs with his fingers as he looked back into my eyes. He moved my hairs from my forehead and then moved to take my earings off.

There he was. Damon leaned against the bar, laughing at something my aunt said. White shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark jeans hugging his thighs, that same easy confidence radiating off him like heat. His hair was longer now, curling at the ends, and a faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw. He looked... comfortable. Like he belonged here more than I did. Our eyes met across the room. His smile faltered for half a second, then returned, slower, warmer. Dangerous.

And cut. I don't cry. I don't hesitate. This hair was the hair Aureliano stroked. This was the hair Spadino buried his face in. This was the hair Ciro held when he fucked me. It has to go. When I am done, my hair is a jagged, chin-length bob. It looks rough. Angry. I take out the box of hair dye. Jet Black. I mix it in the sink. The chemical smell burns my nose. I slap the black sludge onto my head, rubbing it into my scalp until it stains my skin.

Then I pad downstairs barefoot. Damon’s in the kitchen, standing at the stove, and the sight of him makes me stop in the doorway. He’s wearing jeans that hug his ass perfectly and a gray henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. His dark hair is still damp from the shower—from my shower and he hasn’t shaved, so his jaw is covered in dark stubble. He looks domestic and dangerous all at once, and my wolf is practically begging me to go rub against him.

The door opened again before I could speak. Damon walked in. His large Alpha body overwhelmed the small room, his presence filling the entire space with a new scent. His eyes flipped from Cassandra to me, then to the cribs where both twins were resting and growling. “Cassandra,” he charged, his voice cold. “Leave right now!” Cassandra was angry, but she later walked out. As soon she left, Damon shut the door and turned to me. “They are growing too fast,” he whispered to my ears. “And they carry a scent that does not belong only to you… don’t lie to me.”

"What? Is there something wrong with me?" Damien was staring at her bush, or more precisely, the lack thereof! There was no hair on her mons, just a thin strip of dark curly hair that started just above the hood of her clit, went up three inches and stopped. He was totally confused. He had never seen any woman that had just a thin strip of hair down there. It was either all over and thick; or if they were very young, not there yet, or just some fuzz. His head was cocked at an angle and his ears were fully forward, his forehead wrinkled as he tried to figure out why it looked the way it did. Elena saw his expression was one of confusion, not disgust as she had feared. She relaxed a little. "W