Synopsis. Lockdown leaves you bored, restless, and running into Kakashi Hatake, man next door, more often than you should. You didn’t mean to start talking to him. You didn’t mean to let him in. And you definitely didn’t mean to fall for the man behind the mask.
Pairing. Kakashi Hatake x fem!reader
Content. NSFW, explicit smut, fem!reader, lockdown au, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, praise + degradation mix, cockbulge, fingering.
Word count. 3.1k (omalord)
the konoha lockdown had brought a strange kind of hush over the village. it wasn’t war. it wasn’t mourning. but something about the silence in the streets, the emptied marketplaces, the closed mission halls… it felt just as heavy.
you hadn’t been sent on a mission in weeks. not since the hokage issued a mandate for all non-essential shinobi to remain within their assigned districts. a sickness—unnamed but fast-moving—had made its way from one of the trade routes, and while not deadly to most, it spread too quickly for comfort. precautions turned to restrictions. restrictions turned to house arrests.
you were lucky. your small apartment in the southern district got good light, the windows wide enough to let in the late afternoon sun, the nights quiet. the most excitement came from the balcony you shared with the next apartment over.
kakashi hatake lived there. yeah that kakashi, the copy ninja.
the first few weeks of lockdown, you'd barely exchanged more than a glance. he kept to himself. always dressed in his usual turtleneck shirt, mask, amd gloves—even when there was no mission to be seen. you’d hear his door close at odd hours, the muted shuffle of his footsteps when he returned from the market. there was no reason to talk.
but loneliness was a slow creeper.
by the end of the second week, you started saying things like “afternoon,” when you passed him by the laundry line. by the third, he started responding with “you're up early,” or a low “smells good,” when the scent of your late lunch drifted out onto the balcony.
and one morning, after you complained absentmindedly to no one in particular about running out of body wash, a bottle of peach-scented soap appeared outside your door. no note. just a seal-marked sticker you recognized from one of the local apothecaries. you used it that night, not because you were curious about the scent, but because you were curious about him.
now, three weeks in, he stood at your door again. posture relaxed, mask still on, and that usual unreadable look in his eye. you’d just stepped out of the shower, robe soft against your skin, and your hair still damp at the ends.
“oh,” he said lightly, that lone visible eye catching on your collarbone. “so you’re using the soap i gave you.”
you blinked, half-smiling. “you noticed?”
you tilted your head. “i usually use lavender. didn’t expect peach also suit on me.”
he shrugged one shoulder. “sweet.”
you laughed, turning a little to the side, embarrassed by how warm your cheeks felt. “didn’t peg you for the scent-analyzing type.”
“you’d be surprised.” he looked pointedly at your robe. “i have theories about your shampoo, too.”
you rolled your eyes. “come in.”
kakashi stepped inside without comment. you made tea for both of you, he leaned against the kitchen counter, and the conversation meandered the way it had been doing lately casual, filled with pauses that weren’t uncomfortable. he made small observations.
when he settled into the floor beside the couch, ankles crossed, you sat beside him, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm.
the tea cooled. the sky darkened. the light in your apartment went golden.
and then, on a whim, you said, “did you ever play truth or dare?”
kakashi blinked at you. “what?”
you smiled, wrapping your hands around your mug. “you know, the game.”
“i know what it is. i’m just trying to imagine me playing it.”
“didn’t exactly go to summer camps.”
you chuckled. “neither did i. guess i’m just curious. want to try?”
he tilted his head, as though weighing whether this was a trap. then: “alright. but only if you go first.”
he leaned back. “what kind of mission do you hate the most?”
“trap-setting,” you said instantly. “so boring. i get fidgety.”
“hn.” his eye curved in a small, almost-smile. “noted.”
you glanced at him. “your turn.”
you smirked. “what’s in your icha icha books that makes them so addictive?”
kakashi didn’t flinch. “the pacing.”
“the pacing? that book just full of nudity, duh.”
he gave a sage nod. “that was the art of this book. incredible structure. flawless tension. very literary.”
you scoffed a laugh. “uh-huh. i’m sure that’s what it is.”
you tilted your head. “truth.”
he leaned a little closer. “what did you think of me the first time we spoke?”
you hesitated, then admitted, “you were… surprising. softer than i expected.”
he nodded slowly, letting the silence sit between you before saying, “truth.”
“what’s your worst habit?”
“i reread the same books,” he said. “over and over. like i’m afraid they’ll change if i don’t watch.”
your lips curved. “weird, but nevermind. dare.”
“tie your hair up,” he said, voice quieter now. “i want to see your face.”
you obeyed, “so bold aren’t you?” fingers twisting your hair up and away from your neck. you felt his eyes linger on your… neck.
“dare,” kakashi murmured.
you narrowed your gaze. “pull your hitai-ate down. let me see both eyes.”
he paused, the silence stretching.
then, slowly, he did. one glint of silver, one of deep, unreadable crimson.
he tilted his head. “when did you first notice me?”
“first week,” he said with no hesitation. “you talked to your cactus like it could hear you.” kakashi just laugh at her by that word.
kakashi leaned slightly closer, voice low and unguarded. “dare.”
you took a steadying breath, pulse fluttering. “i was curious... so—take off your mask.”
he stilled. the air shifted subtly between you.
“that’s off-limits,” he said quietly, a rare edge of vulnerability slipping through.
you tilted your head, eyes searching his. “no skipping dares. that’s the rule, remember?”
kakashi didn’t move right away. his gaze held yours, unreadable and steady. then, with a slow inhale, he lifted his hand and tugged the fabric down.
the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips—soft, serious—and a faint scar resting near his chin. he looked nothing like the myth, and everything like the man you’d grown to want.
“you’re…” you breathed, “fine.”
his eye narrowed faintly. “disappointed?”
“truth,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, though your gaze didn’t waver.
kakashi studied you for a moment, then asked with quiet sincerity, “are you attracted to me?”
you didn’t flinch, but the question did catch you off guard. “why are you asking me that?”
he looked away briefly, scratching behind his ear. “just popped into my head,” he muttered. “sorry if it's weird.”
you chuckled softly and took a slow sip of your tea. “i don’t know,” you mused, eyes flicking back to him. “you’re... kind of attractive. even with the mask.”
kakashi's visible eye curved with a smile. “is that a yes?”
you shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “maybe,” you murmured, just under your breath, though the heat in your cheeks gave more away than you intended.
it was his turn. you leaned in a little, eyes sparkling with mischief. "so, truth or dare, kakashi?"
"dare," he said without hesitation.
you grinned, reaching for the mini water bottle on the table. "alright, drink this—all in one gulp. no breaks."
he glanced at the bottle, then back at you, one brow raised. "are you serious?"
you nodded, still smiling. "dead serious."
kakashi chuckled under his breath, accepting the challenge with a tilt of his head. he unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle with casual ease, tipping it back for a long swallow.
you hadn’t expected to stare—but you did. the line of his throat moved with each gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing gently. then, just at the end, a single droplet slipped from the corner of his mouth and caught at the edge of his lower lip.
his thumb swiped the drop away, and he gave you a knowing look. "that count?"
you blinked, flustered. "y-yeah. perfect form."
you held his gaze, savoring the tension, then gave a slow, deliberate smile. “dare.”
kakashi’s voice dropped, quiet and certain. “kiss me.”
your smile faltered, eyes widening slightly. “what?”
he didn’t answer. he just looked at you—steady, unreadable—then leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to stop him.
but you didn’t. the rules of the game were dissolving and neither of you minded. the moment stretched, suspended. his thumb brushed your cheek, slow and reverent.
“you’re not stopping me,” he murmured.
“should i?” you whispered back.
“too late now,” he said, voice low, his breath ghosting over your lips. then, deeper this time, his mouth found yours again—firmer, more certain. he kissed like a man who rarely allowed himself softness, but tonight, he gave it freely. with slow pressure and aching restraint.
you lay back against the futon, hair splayed, chest rising and falling. kakashi hovered over you, a little breathless himself now, though he tried not to show it.
but his hands betrayed him, the way they gripped your waist just a little tighter, the way his thumb brushed over your ribs in soft circles. his mask was long forgotten. there was nothing between you now, not even his usual restraint.
“tell me if i’m going too far,” he said, voice husky but steady.
you shook your head. “you’re not.”
his lips returned to your chest, softer now, reverent. he kissed one breast, then the other slow, unhurried, dragging his mouth along the curve, just under, just above, always close but never quite, then he took one into his mouth.
a gasp escaped you helpless, involuntary. your back arched before you could stop yourself, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders.
he hummed against your skin, tongue circling, then sucking, not harsh, but greedy. possessive. as if trying to memorize your taste, your reactions, the way your body trembled under him.
your fingers dug into his hair. he moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention, lips, tongue, just a scrape of teeth. your thighs instinctively pressed together. every suck sent a throb between your legs.
you whimpered softly. “you’re… not playing fair.”
he looked up from your chest. lips slick, face flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming.
“i warned you,” he said, smiling lazily. “i don’t play games i don’t intend to win.”
one hand stroked along your side, firm and grounding. the other cupped your breast gently, thumbing over the peak he had just kissed raw, soothing it, keeping you trembling on the edge.
your forehead pressed to his, your breath mingling in the heat between you. “i want more.”
his hand moved then, slipping beneath your waistband. warm, ungloved, greedy. his touch was slow but certain, coaxing gasps and shudders from you like he already knew every edge of you.
because you’d never been this exposed before. not even naked. but the way he touched you, the way he kissed you between gasps — you were sure he saw you now. all of you.
“you’re so pretty like this,” he whispered against your ear. “falling apart. for me.”
“don’t close your eyes,” he said. “i want to see them when you fall.”
you were gasping into his mouth.
kakashi’s mouth tilted into something between a smile and a wince, a silent, breathless exhale.
“take your time,” he murmured. “but i’m not moving until you tell me to.”
that was a lie. because a second later, he rolled his hips — slow, deliberate, achingly smooth — and your entire body reacted like lightning meeting water.
your hips trembled beneath the weight of his body, your fingers desperate, restless — clawing at his back, threading through his damp silver hair, tugging when he went deeper. your body arched to meet every thrust, chasing friction, chasing closeness, chasing him.
“k-kakashi—” your voice cracked against his lips, “—you feel so good, i can’t—fuck—i can’t think.”
you felt him groan deep into your mouth, his chest rumbling as his hips slowed just slightly — dragging every inch of himself from your body with devastating patience, only to push back in just as deep. you whimpered, legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
“don’t think,” he rasped. “just feel.”
“i am,” you gasped, fingers fisting the back of his neck. “i feel everything. you’re in so- , kakashi—fuck—don’t stop.”
“not planning to,” he murmured, the edge of his voice fraying as he looked down at you. your eyes met — wide and wet and dazed — and something in his gaze softened.
“you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered.
and you were vocal — so vocal — moaning his name with every drag of his hips, whimpering when he ground deeper, whispering, pleading, praising.
“you’re perfect—” “there, right there, don’t stop—” “yes, yes, fuck—kakashi—right there—”
your hands couldn’t stop touching him — they moved constantly, like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go. they dragged across his spine, down his ribs, cupped his jaw when he leaned in to kiss you, grazed his face like you were memorizing the shape of it.
“can i touch you there?” you whispered between ragged breaths, your thumb ghosting his cheekbone, where his mask would have been. “anywhere,” he murmured, hips never stilling. “touch me everywhere.”
you framed his face with both hands, pulling him down into another kiss — open-mouthed and warm, breathless, wet. he groaned into it when your tongue brushed his, when your hips lifted to meet his every thrust like you couldn’t stand even a breath of distance.
“i can feel you in my stomach,” you whimpered into his mouth. “you’re stretching me out so good, kakashi—i’m so full.”
“yeah?” he said lowly, cock twitching inside you. “you like that?” “love it. fuck—you feel too good.”
the pressure was building fast. you could barely keep your legs from trembling — his hips moving with the kind of perfect rhythm that made your toes curl, his hand trailing down your side, fingers brushing your inner thigh.
“touch me,” you begged. “there, please—i need it—”
“you’ll get it,” he said, voice dark, lips brushing your temple. “you get anything you want.”
his fingers found your clit and rubbed — slow, firm, precise.
your back arched clean off the futon, and your nails sank into his shoulders as your thighs started to shake. you clung to him, forehead to his, breathing sharp and high.
you choked. “don’t stop, don’t stop, please—”
“look at me,” he commanded, eyes burning. “i want to see you break.”
you obeyed — barely — eyes fluttering, locking onto his just as your orgasm hit.
your moan was raw, your thighs squeezing around his waist, your walls spasming so tight around him it made him curse.
“fuck—you’re squeezing me like a vice—” kakashi’s hips snapped once, twice—then he stilled, grinding deep, groaning as he felt your walls keep squeezing him.
his hips were cradled flush against yours, buried to the hilt.
kakashi’s forehead rested against yours, breath ragged, lips parted. you could feel his heartbeat in your chest and in your core, thick and full and impossibly deep inside you.
“still with me?” he murmured, voice low and warm like worn velvet.
your eyes fluttered open slowly. you were blinking up at him, lips parted, fingers trembling against the slope of his shoulder blades.
“y-yeah,” you whispered, voice thin. “just… processing.”
you gasped, fingers gripping tighter, knees rising higher around his waist while you feel his tip keep touching your womb. your whole body opening to him like instinct.
“hmm?” he murmured, trailing his lips along your cheekbone, his nose brushing your temple. “do that again.”
he did. again. and again.
every movement was coaxing something deeper from you — a noise, a flutter, a moan you barely recognized as your own. he watched your face, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with heat, cataloging every breath, every twitch of your lips, every flutter of your lashes.
your voice was barely holding together.
“too good. i can’t—fuck, you’re keep hitting my—”
“that’s the spot,” he breathed, hand sliding beneath your thigh, angling you just right. “stay with me.”
your fingers tangled in his hair again, tugging just enough to make him groan. he kissed you like a man trying to memorize your mouth. slow, insistent, reverent. but his hips… they moved with a different kind of purpose.
“you’re melting,” he whispered against your lips.
“i’m burning,” you choked. “gods, you’re ruining me.”
and then he tilted his head, lips brushing your ear.
you whimpered — it came out helpless, choked, honest. your hips rolled up into his, needing more, needing him everywhere at once.
his hand slid down your side, down your belly, between your thighs. his fingers brushed where your bodies met — slick, hot, too sensitive — and then circled your clit with that same agonizing patience.
you cried out, fingers digging into his back, arching hard into his hand.
“k-kakashi—oh gods—i’m close—”
“let go,” he said softly, mouth on your throat. “i’ve got you.”
your breath hitched. your legs shook.
his name tore from your lips as your climax hit like a wave crashing over brittle stone. you shook with it — clutching him, moaning, legs tightening around his waist. every pulse of pleasure made your body jolt against him, made you cling tighter like you were trying to keep from shattering.
he moved through it, riding your high, prolonging it — driving into you deeper, harder, needier now, chasing his own undoing. your body was soft and open beneath him, your voice still spilling his name like prayer.
“you feel so good,” he gasped. “fuck—you’re perfect—”
you pulled him closer — arms around his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder, voice still breathless but steady.
“come inside,” you whispered. “i want to feel it.”
he groaned — a raw, guttural sound — and thrust once, twice, then stilled with a deep, trembling exhale as he spilled into you. his hand cupped the back of your head, holding you to him, his other arm wrapping tightly around your waist as if he could pull you inside his skin.
for a long time, neither of you spoke. you were both breathing too hard, too tangled, too bare in every way.
your legs were still shaking. your chest was flushed. your fingers curled weakly in his hair.
“you okay?” he asked softly, lips brushing your temple.
you smiled, slow and dazed.
“i might not walk straight for a day.”
“mm,” he said. “i take that as a compliment.”
you laughed, warm, soft, exhausted — and leaned up to kiss him again. he was still hardening inside you, and you felt it.
“round two?” he whispered.
"please- no-" you still shaking.
he raised a brow. “dare me.”
ᯓ 𐙚 this is a request from one of my readers who sent it through chat. honestly, they didn’t ask for anything detailed, but for some reason, i just couldn’t write it short. my fingers moved on their own while typing this haha. sorry for bad english anyway, i hope you like the writing <3
