I’ve been wanting to write a fanfic based on the jjk world, but making my own story and plot within an AU timeline with an original male character, but I know that fanfic is mostly girl!reader and with original FEMALE character.
The story has a plot obviously . Also there’s themes like: sexism, enslavement, breaking chain, corruption, greed etc. The “golden child” that sees the problem and fixes in his own way (🩸🪦⚰️).
How do we feel about this? It’s not gonna be a [name] or (Y/N) system. There’s original characters that never showed up in JJK they gonna have names as will the main male character. I’m not sure about romance………………I haven’t thought so far, if there is it would probably be an original female character too…. Idk idk idk idk.
𐙚 author's note: I wrote this headcanon really fast. There’s about 600 words. It’s the first time I actually write smut — im so fucking embarrassed about— but anyway I hope you enjoyed <3
He is not nearly as lazy as he lets everyone believe, at least not when it comes to you. Shikamaru is the kind of man who has to drag himself through most days, or gets dragged along by his friends with a sigh and a reluctant complaint: “Alright, alright.” But between you and him, all that restrained energy has to go somewhere. He is also the type of man who is shameless. When people look at him, they can’t imagine that the man who stands in a slouched position with tired eyes is, in reality, an animal who will take you whenever and wherever he feels like.
Coming back from a mission with you? He will take you from behind on top of a tree. One hand wrapped around your hair and the other grabbing your hip while holding his cigarette between his index and middle fingers, adding an extra heavy pound onto your pussy, his cock touching deep inside you, making room within your tight walls. And you best be sure, he will be saying the most absurd profanities in your ear, his voice slow and husky, making you even wetter. “Attagirl, you’re taking me so well.” And that makes you get there. You love that man’s voice, and he knows it, and he uses it against you. He uses your weakness to make you go on your knees and suck his wet, sticky cock. He can be both rough and gentle; it really depends on how he’s feeling. Shikamaru is just the best of both worlds. He can make you gag while holding the back of your head, almost balls-deep in your throat, your breath barely able to keep up with the suffocation, and he can be gentle while sliding his length in slowly, giving you time to keep up with the suffocation. When he comes, he’s gonna make sure you either swallow it or wear it on your face. When both of you get back to the village, you have trembling legs, and he’s already ready for round two. He’s gonna remind you to clean up before presenting yourself to the Hokage. “You got some dried cum. You better clean up before we see Kakashi.”
While his favorite position is cowgirl, let me say that it’s not because of laziness, but rather because he loves to see how your stomach bulges with his cock buried deep inside you, how your hips move so slowly, almost swallowing his balls. The way your mouth falls open as you moan his name sounds like a melody to him, your eyes rolling back and your nails digging into his chest. He loves to grab your ass, spread it open with his fingers, leaving his mark, and then hammer upward into your wet pussy while your tits bounce in front of his face as he sucks on each of your nipples.
At first, Shika wasn’t really vocal, but once he realized you got needier and wetter for his voice and his dirty talk, he started being more consistent with it: “That’s my girl, taking me so good.” “Fuck, this bulge in your belly is making me even harder.” “Your pussy is amazing.” He loves being dirty with you. He feels safe, and he loves to make you feel adored as well.
Shikamaru has always played everyone thinking he is just too lazy to do anything, you were also played by him in the beginning. You thought that tired eyes never really paid attention, that he was too lazy to move around when you saw Ino or Naruto moving him by force because he didn’t want to move from where he was.
By the first time you guys had your first time together you were definitely proved wrong.
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𐙚 author's note: let me know what you think <3 byeee
Where have you been these past few days, I wondered, and then I realized you were taking exams. I wish you good luck! All A+, 100/100!!!!
Afterwards, please come back to us girlie and drop us another Rock Lee fic. Can I ask for something? Like when he hasn't seen his girlfriend for 5 days and he can't take it anymore 😋?? I love you and your fic
— threads | rock lee ˎˊ˗
pairing: rock lee x fem!reader
content: established relationship, porn with plot, soft dom!lee, lee is freaked out, descriptions of masturbation, kissing, making out, lee giving hickeys, lee giving praise, dry-humping, pussyjob, cumshots, body worship, lee being a slight tease, oral sex (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, crying during sex, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie
w/c: 5.7k words
ˎˊ˗ art credit: @virtuno on twitter
five days.
as a successful ninja, lee knew that five days was, objectively, nothing.
there were shinobi who would leave their villages to embark on missions lasting for weeks on end, sometimes spanning into months if it proved to be considerably challenging. on many occasions in the past, lee sustained wounds, cuts, and bruises that took longer than five days to heal. throughout history, there were wars and battles that raged for five years and beyond that, nevermind a mere five days.
with that logic, five days without your presence should have been exceptionally easy to endure.
except, it wasn't. by the first night of his mission, lee could already hear the sound of your voice humming a million melodies in his mind, like an echo chamber driving him into hypnosis. imagining the way you sound would not be enough, and it wouldn't ever be. he won't settle, not until he can have your lips a thread away from his lended ear, whispering all the things he wants to hear.
by the second night, the absence of your warm body next to him in bed made him restless. lee had never really considered himself a particularly needy person, but his tactile fantasies were keen on disproving that notion. all those little touches he took for granted, he needed. in this moment, the ordinary began to feel special. he craved the weight of your hands slipping into his palms. he wanted to feel your legs grazing against his own when you sit next to each other; your head resting against his shoulder; and your playful shoves whenever he said something you found funny. he wanted those simplicities back now more than ever.
and if the second night wasn't already intolerable, the third day of separation became even more so.
lee started to look for you in the mundane.
whether it was a street vendor serving your favourite snack, or seeing a pretty flower that managed to capture your energy in every petal, you would taunt him by showing up everywhere without actually being here. if at any time anybody spoke, he would take an upwards glance, half-expecting you to be the one speaking, even if the odds of it being you were slim. and when nightfall arrived, he would fall into the exact same ritual, except this time, he’d be peeling back the blankets constantly in the hopes of finding you underneath them, laying next to him between the sheets.
the fourth and final night was agonisingly slow, and the most torturous of them all. lee’s thoughts continued to grow more and more dangerous as the night aged. he had a hankering for the more provocative, more sensual touches you lavished him in. he wanted to drink up the taste of your lips, to hold onto the flesh of your figure, and to knead your skin under his fingertips. lee sighs. he both loved and hated how vivid his imagination could be. he loved how warm you made his heart feel, but he could almost hate how you made his blood boil with sickly desire, to the extent of him kicking his blanket off his body. he stares down in the darkness at the soft grey fabric tented over his hard dick, feeling conflicted by equal parts discipline and equal parts self-indulgence. making this wild decision would be easy so late at night. he could quickly pull down his boxers, stroke himself to completion, and sleep it off. it wouldn't matter much. he'd be absolved of his act by the time he wakes up, but what's the point? you're only a day—no—a few hours away, he reminds himself. losing control now, of all times and so soon, would be meaningless. there's nothing he can do other than sleep. he decides to conclude his thoughts for the night before draping the blanket back over himself. lee hopes that when he opens his eyes, morning will be there to greet him instead of a night interrupted by his own sleeplessness.
lee's hopes had worked.
at long last, the morning of the fifth day was finally here.
the mission was accomplished, and it had finished simply without complication. there were no noteworthy threats, or any major causes of concern to be intercepted. while it was undeniably good news, lee couldn't bring himself to properly celebrate that. he didn't care about reports or anything of the sort. you were finally within reach, and it was the only thing he could think about. the true celebration would take place at your doorstep upon reunion, so it was only natural that lee would sprint back to konoha as if you'd disappear if he wasted any time. he was fueled by nothing but raw longing for you, and his heart pounded harder and harder with every step. when he passed through the village gates, it felt like he had tunnel vision. that sprint of his turned to a brisk walk where his surroundings were blurred, with his focus exclusively on the path leading to your house.
when lee rounded the final corner, he froze.
there you were. stood in the hallway with the door wide open, just for him.
you look like something divine to lee right now, with the afternoon sunlight kissing your skin and turning you to gold. he couldn't fathom how within the space of five days, you somehow managed to look even more beautiful than he had recalled. the relief of seeing you whole crashed over him in a wave so intense, that it stole his breath. he only started to breathe again when his eyes met yours. the moment he made eye contact, every ounce of discipline he spent cultivating on that mission shattered.
"hi, lee." you smiled.
the first thread of restraint snapped.
lee crossed the distance between you in a matter of seconds before you could even finish saying his name. his arms wrapped tightly around your body, and the sheer force of his embrace almost knocked you off of your feet. he barely gave you any time to react, and if it weren't for your quick reflexes, you would've tipped over and fallen flat on your back.
"lee!" you speak in-between bouts of laughter. "i'm here, i'm here."
he's not registering a single word you're saying. he's busy burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the memory of your scent like oxygen. for five days, he imagined this moment. five days of wondering, worrying, and wanting you so badly that it made his chest hurt. now that you were finally here, he couldn't bring himself to let go of you. even loosening his grip would be a crime.
"you know, lee," you tease, rubbing his back. "most people say hi back."
his answer came out muffled against your skin. "i am saying hi!"
lee raises his head from the junction between your neck and shoulders, and presses his cheek against yours before speaking gently in your ear. "i missed you," the words feel heavy with the weight of five years as opposed to five days. "i missed you so much, y/n," he repeats, breathlessly. his hands travel to the small of your back, and he presses you flush against him. chest-to-chest, you can feel his heart pounding against his ribs. "i needed you."
"i know, baby," you chuckle softly.
"no," lee swallows at the pet name falling from your lips. he missed that more than he thought. he separates his cheek from yours to look at your face. "you do not understand. it felt longer than five days, y/n."
the intensity of his words invites an atmosphere that feels heavier than before. it compels you to stop your laughter, and instead, enter a light silence. for a moment you both remain still, breathing in each other's air, and standing too close to each other for comfort, but you both wouldn't want it any other way. right now, lee wanted to regain some semblance of control, but it was futile. he's helplessly drawn to you—your touch, your voice, your comfort he missed out on for five days. the truth hit him with startling force, and the truth was that he wanted to ravage you.
lee's gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back up to your eyes. you noticed. the corner of your mouth curved upwards in response. that was all the permission lee needed from you.
the second thread of restraint snapped.
the space between your faces is sealed the instant lee's lips crash into yours. your hands roam over the back of his neck, with your fingers digging into his nape. the force of the collision is enough to make him spill a whine against your lips. you part them wider, wanting to take more of him into your mouth as he presses harder and harder against you.
lee is not a stranger to the warmth of your mouth, nor is he new to the taste of your tongue as it swirls around his, and yet, the sensation is like nothing he could've ever imagined on those five days away from you. you are beyond imagination, and you always exceed expectation. the sensation spreads underneath his flesh and through his veins, satiating the relentless hunger that had been driving him crazy for the duration of that mission. 120 hours, all released in a single instant. his hands—large and concealed with bandages that cover a story of scars—find the soft plush of your ass with a firmness. a hum rumbles deep in his chest, sending a vibration against your lips as he squeezes the flesh. it's exactly how he dreamt it would be.
you didn't fight the iron grip on your wrists as his roaming hands moved from your ass. the strength of his body pinned you right against the wall, and he silenced all of your breathless whimpers with kiss after bruising kiss. you experimentally tugged your wrists away from him, but you notice that his hold doesn't falter. his hands don't move, not even by an inch.
the sudden resistance prompts lee to loosen his grip and slowly break the kiss, just long enough to breathe against your lips. he pulls back slightly, with his dark eyes wide, scanning your face with his chest heaving.
"please tell me if i am being too forward with you, my flower," he panted. "tell me to stop, and i will. i… i have missed you to the point of madness."
and if you were being completely honest, you loved it when lee was like this. you loved it when he reminded you that he could effortlessly overpower you. it made your pussy throb with want seeing your boyfriend, a man renowned for his extraordinary discipline, coming undone at the mere sight of you. nothing could possibly be 'too forward' if it were him.
"now that you are here," he continues, "i want nothing more than to show you love. i need you." his voice is such a soft thing, tinged with desperation. "i really need you."
hearing his vulnerable confession, and looking up into his puppy-like eyes made your heart feel sore. he could have you in an instant, but still, he insists on remaining at your mercy. you didn't want him to stop though, not now, not ever—you had to let him have you. you decide to press your body closer into his, completely yielding to his strength. when you give your answer, you never once shift your gaze from his.
"i don't want you to stop, lee. just take me."
the third and final thread of restraint snapped.
lee's hands abandon your wrists, and in one fluid motion, he lifts you off your feet as if you weigh nothing to carry. it's like a reflex when you wrap your arms around his neck, and lock your ankles around his waist. his hands find purchase beneath your thighs, and he doesn't waste any time in racing to your bedroom. the movement is swift, sharpened by years of testing the limits of his speed. he kicks the bedroom door open and takes a stride to your bed—still faintly laced with the scent of you exactly as he remembers it. even though his hands are shaking with anticipation, he still lays you down on the mattress with the utmost care, like you're a monument of marble that could crack and break into thousands of fragments.
lee hovers above your laid form, looking down at you with eyes that are committed to storing every part of this moment to his starved memory. your parted lips, slightly swollen from his kisses; the way you flutter your lashes at him with half-lidded eyes; the addictive sound of your soft breaths. he can't resist you any longer.
the world outside the room seems to disappear when he slots his lips in between yours again, more fervent and hungrier than he was earlier. your fingers tangle deep into the thick dark strands of his hair, pulling him closer into you as you match the passion of the kiss. you start to arch your back and buck your hips up against him in the pursuit of more pressure, more contact, the slightest something to ease the throbbing of your cunt. lee presses the weight of his cock—hard and clothed—between your legs, but not before pinning your hips down to prevent you from having your fill. you whine softly in response.
"come on, goddess," he breathes against your neck, kissing the skin there as consolation, "i do not want to deny you either… surely, you can understand." his voice is so gentle, but his actions are less than. he rises, and his bandaged fingers grip onto the waistband of your pants, dragging them down to leave you clad in your underwear. a hum rumbles in his throat when he sees the outline of your labia, soaked and swollen with arousal, through the thin fabric of your panties. "you must have missed me too. isn't that right, y/n?"
"i did, baby," you nod, voice breathy with need. "i'm glad you're here."
"i do not doubt that, my angel."
it's his turn to strip now. he's quick to unfasten his green flak jacket, setting the heavy material aside to reveal his broad chest. your eyes trail downwards, allowing his abs to guide you as they tense and relax with every ragged breath he takes. the outline of his obliques tempt your eyes some more, taking them further south to his adonis' belt. those two lines disappear dangerously low into the waistband of his remaining clothing. you don't have to ask for more. lee is already stepping out of his pants, revealing the bulge thats threatening to escape the confines of his boxers.
"but, i think you doubt just how much i missed you."
lee crawls towards you on the mattress, chasing the gap between your bodies. his warmth is enticing. you're trapped between the stronghold of his arms.
"you were on my mind every second," his breath tickles your skin as he tracks ardent kisses from the chisel of your jawline, down to your collarbones. "you were in my dreams, and now, you are finally in front of me." he rasps, rocking his hard cock against your pussy as if his words barely hold enough conviction. "i really missed you, y/n. really, really missed you."
you feel his hands snake behind your knees, raising your legs and pushing them up as his erection exerts more pressure onto your pussy. your legs rests on his shoulders as he continues. a shiver runs through you when you feel the damp spot of precum seeping through the thin cotton of lee's boxers against you. you're both soaking each other right now, and neither of you can stop the collective outpour of gasps spilling from your lips. the feeling of his hardness rutting against your clothed clit feels heavenly, and all you can do is moan, because you know your boyfriend is far from finished.
the warmth is building up fast. he stops his grinding quickly, just to pull down his boxers and free his cock. you almost want to drool over how it stands on end, how it pulses in the air, and how his flushed tip leaks with desire. he pulls your panties to the side, slipping his hard length in between the lips of your pussy. lee shifts back and forth, allowing you to feel every vein on him as it drags along your clit. you don't know where to look, with your hungry gaze torn between his slick erection as it passes back and forth between your wet core, and his intense face, cast with a light pink flush. lee moans as he meets your eyes.
"you don't know how good you're making me feel, y/n," he whispers.
he kisses at your sternum while bucking his hips against you. the kisses reach the swell of your breasts, and his tongue swipes over one taut nipple before he seals his lips around it. you exhale when he circles his tongue around the sensitive bud, sucking at it with thirst. the suction makes your back arch further against him, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. at that, he decides to pin your wrists up against the mattress to further immobilise you. it makes you moan with need. lee refuses to leave your other breast untouched, and he focuses his attention on it with the exact same passion, with his teeth grazing against it ever so slightly.
you can feel yourself about to cum, and you know that lee is teetering on the edge of his climax too as he struggles to maintain his pace. your body feels unbearably hot, and lee is pressing harder against you like he wants your body to catch flames.
he's overwhelmed at the fact that there's so much of you. those hungry lips of his return to your neck, nipping at the skin there before settling his mouth taut over the expanse of it. he sucks hard against your throat and lingers there indefinitely, nearly consuming you. you can feel his eyelashes brushing over your skin. it adds a new dimension to your indulgence, and you can feel yourself struggling to keep your eyes open against the rapidly approaching waves of pleasure bursting from your core. you're past the point of controlling yourself now, and it's automatic when your orgasm breaks over you, sharp and intense. your legs slips off of his shoulders. your eyes shut tightly. you're clutching on fistfuls of his hair, and every muscle in your body jerks relentlessly, causing the bedsprings let out a creak of protest from beneath you. lee follows up quickly with his own climax as he soaks you with thick, hot spurts of cum that spill on your belly. the suction on your neck stops, and it's instead replaced by lee's warm breath on your skin.
"y/n-" he cuts himself off with a moan against your ear, "do you see what you do to me, my blossom?" he leaves soft pecks along your neck, giving extra to the fresh hickey. lee doesn't intend for it to be teasing, but it feels that way when he slowly rubs his slick-coated cock against your sensitive clit, still pulsating and raw from orgasm. he raises his head to look down at you—more particularly, the love-bite on your neck.
"i can not believe you belong to me," he whispers. "give me a kiss, my love."
the kiss is nothing short of greedy and obscene. you both moan into it, and you can feel the warmth settling deep in your belly once again, despite the fact that lee has just coaxed an orgasm out of you. his tongue slips past yours for a final time before he breaks the kiss.
"perfect," he pecks at your neck, "just like that, y/n. so good." he breathes, beginning a trail of kisses down your chest. each one against your skin feels like heaven as they mark the gentle slope of your belly. the ghost of his breath sets a precedent, warning you before his lips can even land on you. it makes the muscles of your stomach contract with anticipation before each kiss.
"you are truly a beauty," he purrs. "every last part of you." the kisses travel even lower, moving just above the waistband of your panties in an unbroken sequence. lee appears to have predicted your next movements, because his hands have already found the flare of your hips. you sigh with exasperation as you thrust your hips up. all you want to do is move without restraint and ride against his mouth, but he's held you hostage, anchoring your lower body flat against the mattress again.
"please, lee," you sob. "please don't make me wait."
"but you will wait, my angel. just as i have." he fans the flame even further by having the nerve to press a soft kiss to your clit. "you deserve my complete focus. i can't give you my full effort if you rush me. just let me have you, okay?"
you nod, wordlessly.
"i am glad you understand."
lee slides his tongue across your needy pussy, dragging it salaciously in a stripe that stretches from your weeping entrance to your protruding clit. he swallows. you taste like all the things he was so desperately craving in your absence, and its better than anything his mind could have mimicked to fill the you-shaped void he left behind for five days. your essence taste sweet on his tongue, exactly like the feeling of reward after discipline. he makes a vow to himself: he will savour you as to never forget you.
after that one lick, he's insatiable. his mouth engulfs your clit, and you can feel every single nerve being greeted by the slickness of his tongue as it contorts and presses patterns on the very tip of it. lee has only been starved of your proximity, but he slurps and laps away at you as if he has been starved of all sustenance; as if there is no real difference between you, food, and drink. he's not letting you run anywhere. he tugs you by your legs and pushes your cunt further into his face, keeping your thighs elevated against the force of his hands behind your knees.
"fuck, lee," you moan into the air, calling his name like a prayer. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"
he's fighting a losing battle against the sound of your voice. he wantonly moans into you, and the vibrations against your pussy drive you closer to the edge. the room is filled with nothing but your noises at this rate: the noise of your gushing cunt against lee's hungry mouth, the noise of your constant gasps—your moans and your pleas. it's addicting to lee.
he can feel your second orgasm coming to take you by storm. your head throws itself back, your thighs are start to shudder, and your body is beginning to relentlessly writhe with every ruthless flick of his tongue against your sore clit. still, he does not move from the paradise between your thighs. he doesn't care, and he'll continue to have his fill of you until he's satisfied. there is no drop of your slowly trickling essence that goes to waste as his mouth catches it with every hard pulse of your pussy. it's akin to finishing the meal of a lifetime that leaves you licking at a near-empty plate. that unyielding tongue continues to take you through each wave of orgasmic shock until tears fall out of your eyes.
every single nerve is jumping. your heart feels like it's in between your legs, and you aren't sure how long you can stay strong for. unlike you, lee remains adamant and sure of himself. he refuses to let you come down from this high. he starts to curl two fingers inside of you, reaching for that particularly sensitive spot that lies deep in your pussy.
"lee!" you cry out his name. it does nothing to grab his attention.
you're oversensitive, past your limit, and he's still fucking into you with his fingers—still sucking away at you mercilessly. your cries are deafening. they get more and more broken as his fingertips tap that place inside you, over, and over, and over. if he couldn't feel it rising inside of you before, he can feel it rising inside of you now. he's circling his tongue around you determinedly, pressing against that spot, and-
warmth.
the moan you let out is sinful. your body gives out before it locks up a final time, and suddenly, lee's face is covered in a warm gush of you, coating his mouth, dripping from his chin and down onto the mattress. he slows down the pace of his tongue, alongside the pace of his fingers as you clench around him. your boyfriend just made you squirt.
when lee finally pulls his head away, he's looking up at you in awe. you're crying softly, chest heaving, and with eyes shut as tears streak your face. for a moment, he panics, absorbed in the fear that he pushed you too far.
"y/n," lee whispers, crawling towards your face. "are you alright, angel?" his thumbs brush away at your tears.
he reaches for your hands and locks his fingers between yours. when you squeeze his hands, he doesn't even feel the slightest bit reassured. he wouldn't forgive himself if he hurt you.
"please. talk to me, angel." he whispers.
there's a drawn silence, split only by heavy breathing.
"oh my god," you finally manage. your eyes open slowly, cast with a lustful shadow as you blink at him. "that was fucking insane, lee."
the worry lee felt gets washed away with your words. you can taste yourself on his lips as he goes in to give you a kiss.
"it was?" he asks.
"it was." you confirm.
"that makes me feel relieved." he cages you with his body. "there is nothing better than the taste of you. but there is nothing worse than your tears if i am hurting you. i love you, y/n." he whispers against your lips.
"i love you too, lee." your breath exchanges with his.
"i love you so much, and it isn't even close, y/n."
lee has been hard ever since he walked through your door, dying to feel his length burrowed inside you. he can't put the last five days behind him either. he taps the tip of his dick against your still-sensitive clit, wanting a sign from you. a sign that says you'll be merciful enough to accept him in your pussy.
"do you want me? as badly as i want you, sweetness?"
"oh, fuck, lee," you whimper. "yes…"
that's all he needs.
with two orgasms under your belt, lee slides into you with minimal effort. the groan he lets out feels like an expulsion of everything he had buried when he was away. every single ridge of your warm pussy around his cock feels like salvation; like a personal apology from you to him for your absence. before long, his balls are pressed against the cleft of your ass, and he's fully bottomed out against you. every vein, every inch, and every minute pulse as he probes inside you makes you feel complete. you're happy to have him back where he belongs.
his forehead is connected to yours, cemented by the thin sheen of sweat that coats both of your bodies. you remain like that for a few seconds, held captive in each other's gaze. lee starts to move now, beginning with a long, deep stroke from tip to hilt. when his hips slam into yours, the filthiest moan comes out of him.
now that he's finally fucking you, there is nothing you can do to stop him. how many times did he think about this moment on his mission? he couldn't tell you. he doesn't want to be reminded of control or discipline—not when he's pushing himself inside you, hard and fast. your breathless calls and pleas encourage him to fuck his hips deeper into you, with each thrust being more ardent than the last.
his strong hands find the back of your thighs and pushes them upwards, leaving your feet suspended in the air. the position he's folded you in makes you cry out obscenely, and lee knows that from there, he's found the tender spot that drives you wild.
his cock curves in just the right way from this angle. he pounds right into it, over and over without fail until your eyes are fluttering shut; until your teeth are sinking into the flesh of your lower lip; and until your toes are curling with pleasure. it feels like the bed frame is going to fall apart at this rate. his tanned skin is glistening with sweat now, with beadlets flowing down his abs. his hair is dishevelled. you are soaked.
"oh, f-fuck," your words are broken by gasps, "lee, please! don't stop!"
"i would never want to!" air cushions his words as he speaks. "if-if i could, i would stay inside you for a lifetime." he plants a messy kiss on your lips.
when the kiss ends, you slip a hand downwards between your legs and rub away at your clit.
lee may be distracted by your pretty face, and occupied by your warm tightness, but there's no way he's letting that slide. he catches on almost immediately, severing his eye contact to look down at your fingers rolling around your clit.
“stop,” he said huskily. "i am here. do not do that."
he seizes your free hand and pins it right above your head. he does the same for the other, holding your wrists flat with one hand as his thumb rubs firm circles around your clit on your behalf.
once again, you can feel tears of pleasure brimming at the corner of your eyes. you are absolutely sore with blinding pleasure. you're moaning desperately now, with your words growing more and more incoherent for every snap of his hips.
"i wish you could look at yourself, blossom," he praises. "you are taking me so well."
"every," slap! "last," slap! "inch." slap!
lee is moving at a speed you can barely process. your pleasure is growing exponentially, to the point where it's getting impossible to verbalise. it's coming now: that familiar sensation brewing in the depths of your womb, like a compressed spring about to free itself.
"lee," you rasp, "lee, lee, lee, i'm—hah—so close, i can't, i can't-"
"you can, y/n," he breathes, "you can keep taking it. come on, you feel so—ngh!—good around me. "
your face is wet with tears now. lee's forehead presses harder against yours as he tastes the salt on his lips, kissing the droplets as they fall.
you don't care who hears you anymore. you're shaking as much as lee's grip allows; gasping, and crying out his name as your orgasm tears through you with ferocity. your pussy is strangling his dick, gripping him like you don't want him to escape your cunt. lee gasps for every time you clench rhythmically around his length, but still, he fucks you through your high with the same vigour, and he still presses shapes into your clit as if you really need more. it's the best kind of torture. it really couldn't get any better than this.
his grip on your wrists are getting tighter, to the point of leaving bruises. his lips stay parted. he can barely keep his eyes open as he splits you open. he's getting close.
"y/n," his voice is strained-. "wh-where do you want me to fi-"
"-inside!" you answer immediately. "fuck! please, lee, i need you to cum inside of me!"
he'll give you anything you want.
lee drags his cock all the way back, and slams into your pussy for a final time before his thighs lock, leaving him reduced to a panting, moaning mess on top of you. you swear you can feel his cock jump inside of you. you can feel every throb as he paints your womb white with spurts of hot cum. even though he's plugging your insides with his length, his seed spills out of your entrance, trickling down your ass and pooling onto the mattress. he stays like that for a few moments, wrapped in post-coital bliss as his grip on your wrists finally loosens.
"i love you, y/n." his voice is soft.
"i know, baby," you murmur. "i love you too."
"you did well, and i am so proud." his fingers intertwine with yours as he peppers soft kisses on your cheeks. "i was a bit harsh though, wasn't i?" he remarks, sheepishly. he looks down at the hickeys on your neck, up at the minor bruises on your wrists, and down at the ones blooming on your hips where he had pinned you down earlier before meeting your eyes again. you catch him blushing faintly.
a soft chuckle escapes your breath. "you didn't hurt me. you could never hurt me, lee."
"i am pleased!" he smiles, revealing dimples.
"but you were harsh."
"yes… i was..." his eyes dart around, desperate to escape the weight of your gaze. it's almost as if he didn't fold you and fuck the life out of you.
"and all because you didn't see me for five days?"
"it is only natural, y/n! i think about you all the time. not being able to have you was terrible for me." he gets over his bashfulness quickly, looking down at you with rounded eyes.
adorable, you think. how such a small span of time can have such a big impact on a person. it makes your heart flutter.
"well, i'm not going anywhere, baby," you reassure. "i'm going to be right here, lee."
it's already over. you can feel his cock twitch inside of you again.
"i know, my flower," he kisses the corner of your lips. "you are going to be here all night."
𐙚 one shot fluff : greenhouse : fem!reader x gaara
𐙚 context: Gaara spent months building a gift for you, the woman he loves. You thought the library was the gift, but it wasn’t.
𐙚 word count: ~4903
𐙚 authors notes: Enjoy this beautiful gaara one shot. this doesn’t have smut, since I was not in the mood to write it (I’m horrible writing smut, I’m really good at reading them, but not writing). Also, Reader and Gaara are in their 30’s. Love you guys, have a good read.
If someone had told you years ago that you would marry the same creepy boy who tried to kill you back when you were kids, you would never have believed them, perhaps you would’ve gone as far as calling them insane and showing them your broken arm and the six fractured ribs he gave you. But life is a wild ride; twenty years later, you are walking side by side with that boy—now a grown man who held your heart in the palm of his hands—while holding hands as he guides you around the glass greenhouse.
The red-haired man stopped you in your tracks every few feet to show and explain each new flower he has added to the collection; some smaller than others, some brighter than others, but regardless, all adorable in their own way and so well taken care of. You didn’t know the first thing about flowers, unfortunately this was not a hobby of your own; not for the lack of interest or effort, but both you and your husband figured out pretty early that patience was not a seed easily planted in you as it was in him, but nonetheless you loved with every piece of your heart how Gaara dedicated his time to this with such tenderness and shared this piece of him with you.
Gaara let your hand go, kneeling down to pick up a medium-sized pot from the floor with bright golden flowers blooming like little suns. His usual neutral expression settled on his face, but his eyes now carried a gentle warmth as his fingertips brushed over the petals without hurry. His touch carried a reverent care, barely bending them beneath his touch. For a fleeting moment, he simply admired them as you admired the man in front of you.
Only then did he lift the pot toward you. There was no urgency in his movements, or in the way that his eyes invited you, waiting for you to experience them the way he did.
“It feels soft,” he said, his voice as soothing as ever. You took the petal between your thumb and index finger, feeling the softness of the petal and the dampness left from watering.
“It feels so velvety…” you said, tilting your head slightly, your eyes taking in every detail of the flower. You could feel Gaara’s eyes watching you, but what you couldn’t tell was how his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw your expression softened at the plant, knowing you were enjoying something he nurtured with his hands, the same hands that once destroyed. Using your other hand, you lowered it beneath the pot to help him hold it, your fingers settling against his. “What is this flower called?”
“These are desert marigolds. They don’t live for long, but they’re quite resilient to the heat and barely need any water. Earlier today was the first time I watered them in months,” your husband explained. He spoke about the flowers with the same quiet patience he gave to everything he loved. There weren’t many, but you were one among them. You had heard him speak before to villagers, council members, shinobi, yet there was something different whenever he was here. Every word spoken was not to impress you, but simply because he wanted the two things he cherished the most to exist in the same moment. Somehow, that was your favorite part of Gaara. “They don’t really have a strong scent, but if you breathe slowly you might be able to smell it.”
So you did just as Gaara said. The smell was faint, but it was there, an herbal scent. A sun-warmed smell that, for some reason, made you think of a quiet afternoon, reading books and drinking green tea.
It wasn’t long before the two of you were back on track once again, Gaara gently guiding you inside the greenhouse while his hand intertwined with yours, keeping you so close to him like you could be taken away from him any second; an involuntary habit that he didn’t realize he had himself, because of his past that nowadays it was like a faint smell of a memory.
In the beginning of your relationship with him, a little while after The Fourth War had ended and you both found yourselves working together with orphaned shinobi children who had lost their parents during the war. You, as a grown woman and shinobi, knew the feeling of losing your parents to a vile catastrophe, how hard it felt for each child whose parents didn’t come home. And for Gaara personally, it was an unknown feeling: the grief of losing a parent since he was never loved like a son, never cared for as more than a weapon. He understood his role not only as their Kazekage, but as a child who never felt that love; he wanted to show those children that he cared for them; they weren’t expected to fill their parents’ shoes as shinobis one day. They weren’t weapons to be wielded at the cost of their lives.
Back then, the trust and affection you tried to show were hard for him to accept, it was hard to see himself deemed worthy, but after all these years, he did learn to let himself be loved—it had taken a long time, a lot of deep conversations, putting emotions on the table, and being vulnerable, and as the years went by, the easier it became for you two to deal with these situations. He saw you as his safe place where he could show his other sides. But even to this day, your husband would still get visits from his past self; the nightmares and memories of the pain he caused not only to his villagers, but also to his friends.
“Darling,” Gaara called you softly, using his favorite nickname. He didn’t look back at you when he called you, but his fingers curled more firmly around yours. “There’s something I wanna show you. Something special I’ve been meaning to give you.”
With the words caught in your throat, you found yourself unable to form an answer right away. Your cheeks warmed into a crimson blush before you could stop yourself, biting back your lip at the same time. Even after all these years, he still had this quiet way of catching you off guard and making you feel like a little girl around your crush.
Your husband wasn’t a man of too many words, but what he didn’t do in words he compensated with actions; acts of service were his love language. Sometimes, when his mouth didn’t speak, his eyes softened around the edges, and the green within them seemed to brighten whenever something genuinely excited him, whenever you kissed him, hugged him, or even just held his arm in public. The times the two of you walked around Suna, he loved to see how attentive you always were when somebody came to talk to you both, you being the chatty one between the two of you. You were kind and generous to everyone, and because of it he could see how much they admired you, almost as he did. His young self would’ve never thought he would have someone to walk beside him, much less that it would be the girl he had once tried to kill because she wasn’t scared to put him back in his place.
That girl would’ve become the woman that showed him what love in its purest form was and what daily partnership was. Every now and then, your husband would glance back over his shoulder, watching you look around with curious eyes.
He remembered that, when he became Kazekage, the villagers and council members didn’t take much of a liking to him. But you weren’t among them; you could’ve hated his guts, but you were the first one to show him respect and forgiveness for all the pain he had caused you. You were the first person to believe in him, in his change of heart and attitude when everyone else—except his siblings—didn’t. You were the first one to defend his name among your peers.
Before Gaara, you never had many thoughts about marriage. Before the war, you were always bound by shinobi duty and never had the time for this sort of thing. During the war, you weren’t even sure if you were going to survive it. So many of your comrades had fallen in battle that all you ever thought about was protecting the ones beside you. So the idea of marriage never crossed your mind until he came along—even then, both of you had to learn together what marriage was all about.
Once both of you made your way through most of the greenhouse with a comforting silence that followed—you understood why Gaara loved to be here all the time; it was quiet and peaceful, far from his duties as Kazekage and expectations—he stopped both of you in front of a white locked door. Watching the man unlock it with a key, you lifted your hand, smoothing the back of his hair. You loved running your fingers gently through it, always lingering there for a moment, feeling how soft it was and remembering the time you and he shared your first kiss, how your fingers went straight up to the back of his neck, your fingertips playing with his short hair. But nowadays the strands were a little longer, the redness of his hair had deepened over the years, giving him a more mature look, leaving behind the traits of the teenager who led thousands of people in war to the full man standing right in front of you.
As soon as the lock opened, Gaara turned to you. Your hand slipped from his hair as you noticed the way the shape of his eyes softened. His expression carried a quiet brightness that only a person who spent every day with him would recognize, and the vivid green now lit up just as it always did whenever something genuinely excited him.
Loving Gaara was overwhelming, not in a negative way, if anything it was the other way around. All these years together, and you still wondered how it was possible to keep falling in love with the same person over and over again. Each time he kissed you with a hunger that took over his body, kissed you in pure love and had his senses overtaken, you fell hard for him. Each time he hugged you when you were worried about your son, Shinki, each time he sat with you while you read a book, both content to sit in each other’s quiet presence, each time Gaara told you he loved you in his own words or just by the way he gazed at you with such comforting looks.
Within the same second, your brain traveled back to the memories of when you and Gaara became friends, two young people devoting their time to helping Suna’s orphanage, both finding strength in each other to help each child in need. Then, two friends found a seed of love between them, both confused by unfamiliar feelings and a kiss that changed everything. Then you both exchanged rings, certain that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Then came the day the two of you adopted Shinki; Gaara kneeling before the three-year-old boy and telling him he now had a home, not a house, but an actual home. Then Shinki laughing at Gaara after he fell down a whole flight of stairs, and every moment you found yourself looking at Gaara not only as your husband but also as a father despite the weight of his past. For a second, you realized you’d been holding back tears. You closed your eyes, trying to hide them behind a fond smile that found its way onto your lips. “I love you,” you said simply, but truly, your heart beating faster with every passing second as that same warmth from earlier returned.
When you opened your eyes again, a single tear slid down your cheek, only to be met by a serene smile spreading across Gaara's face as he looked down at you, standing a foot taller than you while his hand found your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the tear. Gaara knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was simply a fact. He learned very early the difference between happy tears and sad ones, and right now he could tell by the way one corner of your lips lifted and by the soft blinks of your eyes that those were happy tears. “I hope what’s behind this door shows you how much I love you,” he replied. Gaara leaned forward as his sand shield parted on its own around his face and hands making room for you. He cupped your face between his palms as his lips brushed yours with unhurried tenderness that only belonged to him. He tasted like green tea and honey. His breath was warm, as always, his bare skin was soft compared to the roughness of the sand around him.
“You spoil me too much, Gaara,” you sighed softly against his lips, your hand gently squeezing his cheek once you both had a few inches apart.
He chuckled, taking the hand that just squeezed his face and lifting it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before the sand shield quietly settled back into place. “I’m your husband. It’s my job making sure my wife has the best of what I can offer.” he replied, the familiar roughness of his voice carrying a warmth that appeared only when the two of you were alone.
You glanced at him funny. You scrunched your nose, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Well, your wife thinks you do a great job.”
“I’m glad. It means the books I’ve been reading for the last fifteen years have paid off.” Gaara took one step back, his hand settling on the handle of the door as you tilted your head back, a soft laugh escaped you.
His eyes scanned you and the door at the same time, the quiet excitement in his expression as he extended his free hand to you and brought you closer. “I hope you like it.”
Stepping inside, your eyes widened as you took everything in. In front of you lay a couple of shelves lining the walls, holding every single book you owned or you’d mentioned wanting to read over for the past year. In the far right corner, a large window overlooked Gaara’s garden. Beside it sat a wooden cushioned rocking chair. Resting on a small wooden stand next to it was a bell-shaped glass dome protecting the single red bud of an unfamiliar flower.
“Gaa—” your voice broke. You wandered around the room, feeling Gaara's eyes on you as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. You brushed your fingers over every detail: the carved flowers decorating the white shelves, book covers and titles, walls painted in a warm beige color.
You looked back at your husband, before closing your eyes and running into his arms, letting yourself melt into his strong, lean frame. “Baby…I—” cupping the back of his neck, you hugged him so tightly.
One of his hands settled around your waist, while the other rested gently against the back of your head, keeping you tucked against his chest. His fingers disappeared into your hair as you melted into him. A gentle curve formed on his lips, filled with satisfaction and fondness. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, he lingered there a little longer, feeling your breath be taken away by the surprise.
“I'll take that as you like it.” You didn’t see the relief settling into his gaze. His shoulders relaxed as he realized he hadn’t gone overboard. He silently thanked the gods he hadn’t listened to Shinki, who had insisted, ‘Mom is Suna’s First Lady, Dad. You need to give her something big that matches the title’.
“Like it?” You finally lift your head, looking at him with amused disbelief. “Love it. That’s the right word.”
“Well, I’m glad you love it, but there’s one more gift.” You could hardly believe his words. You looked at him in shock. What else could he possibly give you, you wondered. Wasn’t a private reading room enough?
Reluctantly pulling away from the embrace, Gaara took your hand and guided you towards the chair. Your eyes were still wandering around the room, completely unable to believe he’d done all of this right under your nose without you ever noticing. Gaara set his sand gourd sitting on the floor before taking a seat in the rocking chair, gently pulling you onto his lap. The two of you now faced the garden he had built with so much love and care. It was a beautiful view for sure, reading there would definitely become one of your favorite parts of the day, plus you would be so close to Gaara when both of you were enjoying your own hobbies.
Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t realize how far your mind had drifted until Gaara carefully placed the cool glass dome into your hands, drawing your gaze to the medium-sized glass dome protecting a single red bud you didn’t recognize. Looking at Gaara, your head tilting to the side, confusion lingering in your expression. Every flower he’d given you had already bloomed, letting you admire every petal from the beginning. Whatever this flower was, it was unlike anything he’d given you before, that was for sure.
“Why is it not blooming?” You asked, your voice expressing the same amount of confusion shown in your face. “Isn’t the season for this one?”
Gaara lifted the lid, putting it on the floor, while the bud lay there. “This is a new flower that was discovered recently by the Nara clan in their territory.” The red-haired man stated, as taking the flower and giving it to you. “There’s only a few of them. I was able to get this one with Shikamaru. I wanted to give it to you.”
You nodded slowly, paying attention to his words. Trying to find any meaning to why is still a bud. Gaara knew gardening and plants aren’t your forte. “You want me to plant it somewhere?” You asked, holding the flower by the no so vivid green stem. Your eyes carefully watched the exterior of the petals, but it genuinely looked like a normal sad red flower.
“No,” he answered simply before taking the flower into his hand. “The Nara clan discovered that this flower only blooms when it’s infused with chakra.” Your eyes widened for the second time today. You had never heard of such a flower. “After months of studying it, they discovered that once someone’s chakra is infused into the flower, it never dies.” He fell silent, his gaze meeting with yours. You could tell his eyes were different than normal. There was a longing in them, something deeper than affection.
“Are you serious? This is incredible,” you said, excitement taking over your voice. You’d always loved discovering things you’d never seen before.
“Our anniversary is coming soon. I was supposed to only give you this then, but I couldn’t help myself.” Gaara’s voice dropped, carrying the faint disappointment of someone who’d failed to keep a secret before settling back to his normal. Holding the flower carefully in his left palm, he raised his index finger and middle finger, without hesitation channeling his chakra. A thin stream of pale blue chakra stretched from his fingertips to the flower.
It didn't take long for the flower to begin blooming, its stem becoming greener and stronger, the pale blue chakra enveloping the petals deepening the red in each petal until, little by little, the flower came to a bloom. The flower bloomed into a deep crimson, delicate white lines tracing each petal like strokes across painted canvas. So different from before. So alive.
“In this Shinobi world, death is certain and it can come in different ways; some good and some bad,” he said, his naturally rough voice lower than before, each word measured as though he wanted you to understand every one of them. The moment those words left his mouth, your eyes found his again. “But even if one day I’m gone, a part of me will always remain with you.”
You held the flower in your hand, your eyes moving between it and Gaara, its thick stem a subtle testament to how resilient the flower truly was. How strong was your love. You understood what he meant. As a shinobi yourself, you knew the risks of the world you both lived in, you had survived the war just as he had. You had grown up in an era where it was an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. You felt it as a mother of a young man who is a shinobi himself. You two understood that no matter how many years passed, how peaceful is danger would always remain. Gaara was the first line of defense of Suna. He wasn’t invincible. No shinobi was. Sometimes, all it took was one person with enough hatred and enough power.
You look at your husband, really looked at him. You set the flower in between the two of you as you leaned toward him. Your forehead rested against his as your hands made their way to his face. “Not even death could tear us apart, Gaara. You’re my husband and I’m your wife. The day one of us is gone, our hearts will always belong to each other and we’ll meet again in the next life.”
Gaara’s gaze lingered on your face, as though finally taking in what you’ve said, his eyes slowly drifted to your slightly parted lips. The hand resting against your back drew you just a little closer, until there wasn’t enough space for anything but the warmth of each other’s breath. His thumb brushed slowly along your cheek before coming to rest beneath your jaw, his gaze never leaving yours. For the briefest moment, he simply admired you. Years together, and somehow you still managed to steal every thought from his mind with only a handful of words. His eyes softened in that familiar way only you knew how to recognize before he finally closed the remaining distance between you.
His lips met yours with the same certainty that had always belonged to him, slow and unhurried as though he wanted to savor every piece of you. His hand beneath your jaw lingered there only a moment before slowly sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers disappearing into your hair while the arm around your waist pulled you impossibly closer. You answered him without hesitation, your hands finding his face once more, your fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his jaw before dropping your hands into his shoulders. As the kiss deepened, you could taste his tongue on yours, soft and hesitant at first, before giving into a sudden, deep necessity. For Gaara, it was as if with every passing second he wanted to lose his breath, as long as he could drown in you, in your mouth, in every whisper that escaped your lips.
Outside, night began to fall and darkness took over the room, with only the red flower glowing in a crimson flux that cast shadows on the wall. Gaara was a man of extreme restraint in the outside world, known for his discreet and guarded nature, but within these walls he allowed himself to feel a sense of freedom. He kissed you without fear, there weren’t any judgments from you on how he liked to love you and praise you. He didn’t hold back his touches. Sliding his large hand down your curves, he rested his touch on your ass; his fingers firmly gripped one of your cheeks, squeezing the area and making you moan against his lips. Your hands gripped the man’s shoulders hard enough for him to understand that he had permission to proceed exactly as he wished.
Gaara’s hand started to move quickly to unbutton your dress, but the sound of firm footsteps echoing through the greenhouse pulled you both out of your bubble.
“Mother? Father?” Shinki's voice came loud, carrying the same calm demeanor from Gaara. “Are you guys here?”
The young man’s figure appeared in the doorway while you and Gaara stood by the window, looking over the garden covered my the moon. You turned to face the red painted boy with a welcoming smile. “Hey sweetheart, your father was just showing me his surprise. Isn’t it amazing?!” You said, looking at your son, who, at barely fourteen years old stood taller than you. Beside you, Gaara had already returned to his usual calm.
“You liked it?” Shinki’s eyes moved around the simple, but beautiful room, as though silently judging his father’s decoration taste. “I told father to go a little…fancier, but I guess he went the other way.”
Shinki was a perfect mix of you and Gaara. At least in personality. He was always too adult for his age, too serious and stoic. Very much like how Gaara always was, but you still could see the traits of the little man that used to sneak to your bed and sleep with you at night.
“Oh, I loved it so much. Everything.” You smiled sweetly, resting one hand on Gaara's shoulder while the other held the flower to your body. “Thank you so much, dear.”
Gaara smiled at you, taking your hand in his. “Of course, darling.” His gaze then shifted to his son. “Also, Shinki, how was the mission? I wasn’t expecting your team back until tomorrow.” If you didn't know your husband as well as you did, you would’ve missed the faint annoyance beneath his otherwise calm voice.
“Yeah, Uncle Kankuro chose to stay in the village tonight,” Shinki said, his voice level and steady. He didn't look tired at all, standing tall while his heavy coat of black sand rested quietly over his shoulders. “I left a clone behind to keep watch. The rogue ninja moved on to the next town, but his pace has slowed down. He won't get away.” Your son and your husband were definitely two peas in a pod for sure. They shared that exact same unshakeable way of speaking. “We will be moving out at dawn to finish the mission,” Shinki added, looking between you and Gaara. “The target isn't much of a threat. We will have the report on your desk tomorrow night.”
Gaara gave a single nod, satisfied with the answer. He knew how hard Shinki worked to be the perfect heir. As much as Gaara felt proud of his son's accomplishments at such a young age he also could see how hard Shinki was on himself. “Good. Please don’t take unnecessary risks. A rogue ninja is never worth more than the life of one of our own.”
“I know, father.” Shinki replied, his expression remaining steady and serious, though his tone softened as he looked at the two of you. “You only told me that… what? A thousand times?”
“A thousand and one now,” Gaara replied without missing a beat. You couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your lips.
“Well,” Shinki continued, folding his arms over his chest. “Since I apparently interrupted something…” His gaze swept across the room before a knowing judgmental look settled on his face. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”
“Shinki!” Your face immediately warmed, a deep crimson blush rushing up your cheeks. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“What?” he said, his voice as flat as a paper. “It’s not my fault. The door was open. You guys should’ve been more careful.”
Gaara let out the quietest sigh, the faint annoyance from earlier returning to his expression for only a brief second before disappearing just as quickly. “I’ll remember to lock it next time,” he said with complete seriousness.
The room felt silent. You and Shinki looked at the man who was standing in a perfect posture. If your face was once a crimson blush, now you have no face at all to look your son in the eye, who looked at Gaara with an unbelievable expression.
“Gaara…” that’s all you were able to say before hiding your red face in your palms. You had an unshamable husband that was for sure.
Shinki shook his head, his face settling into an expression carved in pure disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually admitted that, father.” The boy let out a long, defeated sigh.
Gaara looked at his son completely unfazed. “We’re leaving.” Gaara laced his fingers through yours, gently pulling you closer as you kept your head lowered, too embarrassed still to look at either your son and your husband.
“Yes, sir,” Shinki answered as seriously as ever, though the faint amusement in his voice betrayed him.
The three of you left the room together as Gaara gently guided you out. Your eyes drifted over your shoulder taking one last look at the room before leaving it behind. A smile formed onto your lips as soon as you noticed Gaara watching you with the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smile.
“Come on,” you said, giving Gaara’s hand a gentle squeeze and finally being able to meet your son’s eyes. “Let’s go have dinner as a family.”
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author notes: Hii I hope you liked, I loved writing this one shot with my second hubby gaara. If you liked, please don’t forget to like, comment or repost that will help tons!! ily I’ll see you soon!
cockwarming lady tsunade's biggest strap-on ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
she knows you can take it!
cw: mdni, age gap, teasing, degrading, semi-public sex, art by enargeia5525
You feel very dirty doing this, even if you were the one who let the idea drop to your girlfriend, but here you are now, sitting in Tsunade’s lap after she spent twenty minutes teasing your clit and tight hole so you could take her biggest strap until now.
She’s doing paperwork while you squirm, the toy kissing your cervix every once in a while. The thick silicone stretches you so full it makes your head spin, every shift sends sparks up your spine, but you bite your lip hard and try to stay still like a good girl. Tsunade’s strong arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you right where she wants you. Her other hand scribbles notes on some important scroll, just another boring day at the office.
“You’re cute trying to act normal while your pussy is clenching around my cock,” she whispers right against your ear, licking your earlobe. “You begged for this, remember? Said you could handle being my personal cockwarmer while I work.”
You nod eagerly, there’s really nothing more in your head than being the best girl for her. “Y-yes, I can handle it, milady.”
She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through her chest into your back. One of her fingers traces lazy circles on your stomach, dangerously close to where you’re joined. “If you move too much or distract me from these reports, I’ll have to punish you. And you know how creative I can get with punishments, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Her hips give the smallest roll upward, just enough to press the strap deeper. It bumps right against that spot inside you and your hands grip her thighs tight, nails digging in as you fight the urge to grind down. You are a total wreck. Sweat is already beading on your skin, your breathing is all shaky and your clit is throbbing so bad you swear she can feel it.
Tsunade leans back in her chair, pulling you with her so you’re even more seated on her lap. The new angle makes the toy feel even bigger. “Sit nice and pretty for me.” Her free hand slides up to pinch one of your nipples through your top, tugging just hard enough to make your walls flutter around her. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll fuck you properly later. But now you have to be my pretty doll. Understand?”
“Yes, milady,” you whisper, voice cracking. You want to move so badly it hurts. Your hips twitch once without permission and she clicks her tongue in warning.
“Careful,” she says, amusement dripping from every word. “One more slip and I’ll bend you over this desk and edge you until you’re crying.”
“Sorry, milady,” you say quickly.
She goes back to her paperwork, but her hand stays on your hip, squeezing every so often to remind you who owns you.
a/n: TSUNADE-SAMAAAAAAA i need that pussy so bad. shout out to that anon who gave me inspo for this
Dom!Sukuna who finds a pack of cigarettes in your purse after you explicitly promised him you’d quit. sfw drabble.
──── ୨୧ ────
Not only had you broken a rule, you’d broken his trust - and that in itself is a rare gift, one that is not to be discarded so lightly. So one afternoon when you stumble in from your workday and he once again catches a faint trace of that familiar sticky tar lingering beneath an offensive amount of perfume, he ties you to your office chair and makes you watch him crack open the pack and burn every single cigarette within down to the nub.
Except he doesn’t tap the ash out into a tray like you might have done, no - he litters you with it instead. Little flecks of flaming ash nipping at your cheeks, at your skin laid bare where he’d tugged your shirt open, rolled up both your sleeves just to watch the way you flinched at each sharp sting against naked flesh.
He says nothing, just lights each stick anew with a solemn sort of reverence, and when each one is burned down to the filter he twirls it around between thick fingers and stamps it out on you. Presses the searing tip onto any slip of skin he can reach until you’re littered with ash ridden little kiss marks and tears are rolling hotly down your cheeks, all the while listening to you beg and plead and promise him that you’ll stop this time.
i absolutely love ur writing…. could i request some gaara x reader smut??👀👀
— SOON AS I GET HOME ‧₊˚ ⋅
pairing: gaara x wife!reader
ˎˊ˗ synopsis: your hard-working husband, the kazekage, wants makes up for lost time between you.
content: established relationship, porn with plot, descriptions of kissing, tongue kissing, dry humping, oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, praise kink, pussyjob, p in v, cowgirl, unprotected sex, bear hug, creampie
ˎˊ˗ w/c: 5.2k words
inspo track: soon as i get home - faith evans
art cred: @sso_s__ on X
uncertainty knows better than to interfere with your thoughts.
because it is certainty that has always been the force pushing your relationship with gaara forwards.
you gave him certainty that he was flesh and blood, and not a cold monster beyond comprehension that was stitched together by cruelty. your presence in his life gave him certainty that love was attainable; that it was something he didn't have to hurt himself over trying to experience. you're certain that he'll return to the warm sanctuary of your open arms at the end of each day, unharmed and intact. and you're certain that he loves you, just as you love him.
however, the past few weeks have been feeling different.
your shared residence was much too quiet, and far too still for your liking. the sounds of shuffling footsteps from down the halls, and the noise of robes unravelling in bed were something that you grew to miss as they became less frequent.
you always knew moments like this would be inevitable, given that gaara's duty as kazekage is a demanding one that takes many an effort to completely satisfy. you couldn't hold anything against him, though. not the endless paperwork, not the gruelling diplomatic endeavours, not even the urgent summons that happen right before you're getting somewhere with him.
nothing.
it was understandable that he'd sleep immediately without wishing you good night. you could also tolerate the final ghost of his lips on your forehead at sunrise before he returns past midnight. maybe you'd see him at dinner and share warm words, but only for a few minutes before duty called him again.
and over and over again, you would never complain. with your considerate mind and empathetic heart, you'd never find the nerve to feel upset with yourself, nor would you ever find the nerve feel upset at your husband for simply doing his job.
but what you do feel, is uncertain.
it's hard not to feel uncertain about where things are going when the distance between you grows further and further, day by day. it's a morbid and irrational thought that you know isn't true, but you wonder if he still carries love for you in his heart. the same love that made you so certain.
mashrabiya screens pass cool air onto your skin as you sit in front of the large mirror at your dressing table, getting ready for bed. the candles on the desk flicker slowly, casting warm light over your skin. but still, the colour in your eyes remain dim when you think about how seldom you exchange touches with gaara. upon the realisation that you're thinking selfishly, you sigh. but are you so wrong to desire? are you wrong for wanting your husband to yourself?
and just as you're about to wear your bonnet and retire for the night, you hear the door slowly open. you don't bother to turn your head towards it. even when you hear the familiar weight of soft footsteps that are undeniably gaara's, you continue to stare at your pretty reflection in the mirror.
you expect what's been typical for the past few weeks: the sound of clothes coming off his body before he goes straight to bed. or maybe, some footsteps that fall out of earshot as he walks to his study to resume work.
but when your eyes flicker to the ornate clock on the wall, you note that your expectations have been subverted. it reads nine 'o'clock. you thought he'd be at a meeting until midnight, but your husband is here, and sooner than you'd anticipated.
gaara's taller frame remains stood by the door, staring at your seated form momentarily. his keen eyes roam over the thin fabric of your loose night dress, admiring how the cloth drapes over your curvature like brushstrokes of paint would on a canvas. those eyes continue to weigh heavily on you, but you do not waver.
"gaara," you cross your legs, still focused on your reflection. "you're early today."
there's no biting bitterness, no excitement, or any other possible emotion he could gauge from your tone. it's merely a flat observation.
"yes," he responds quietly. "i am."
in this moment, gaara notices how your usually bright eyes appear lacklustre. it urges him to think carefully and pause for a few heartbeats before speaking again, should he make them even dimmer with the wrong words.
"forgive me, beloved. you weren't expecting my arrival, were you?"
gaara shuts the door from behind him with a soft click, and the bedroom, as large as it is, feels smaller. the air feels heavier. and the silence that follows is burdening, as if you're watching individual grains of sand as they pass through an hourglass. it's unusual, gaara thinks to himself. he's standing in the same spot where you would always, without fail, rush to kiss him after a difficult day. your sweet laughter would bounce off the walls, and you'd behave as if you couldn't bear another second without touching him.
and now, as he remains stood in that same spot, he's confronted by not only the cold barrier of your averting gaze, but also a new emotion: guilt.
he feels guilt over the fact that when you needed him the most, he wasn't there.
he feels guilty because his absence had reduced your expectations of him. it had trained you to accept less than what you deserve, and it broke him. lord kazekage, provider of the nation, could not even provide his own wife with the sustenance to satiate her cravings.
granted, gaara had a fledgling heart that learned the meaning of love later than you, but he knew that throwing "sorries" without action in the air would never compensate for his limited presence. and so quietly, he takes a step forwards, and then another.
towards your desk, towards you.
he stands behind you, close enough to catch your comforting scent, but far enough so that you don't feel his breath fanning on your skin. theres several weeks' worth of interrupted meals, forgotten 'good night's and 'good morning's, and empty sheets on his side of the bed squeezing in that distance between you. within that span of time, you've both not touched each other properly, and the promise of such close contact is being dangled right in front of gaara's face.
you know he's refusing to take his eyes off your reflection in the mirror, but you are just as stubborn in retaliation when you refuse to look back, acting as if he's not there.
but when he leans down, with his lips so close to your temple, you're forced to reckon with his presence. your breath hitches, and your legs cross themselves tighter in a bid to stay resistant as he speaks gently.
"i'm here now... but i don't know if you want me, y/n."
"gaara..." you whisper.
"y/n," he whispers back. "if we are going to spend a lifetime together, i should spend it making sure you're pleased with me. living without love isn't something i intend on making you endure."
"i know the agony of being deprived of love much too well. it's painful," he continues the soft speech in your ear. "it weighs heavily on your heart." a pause. "does it hurt, y/n?"
your shoulders stiffen at the probing question you desperately want to say "yes" to. it shouldn't hurt. you want to act like it doesn't, but it does.
"no, gaara," you feign quietly. "i know how much suna means to you."
he stays quiet.
"you're the kazekage. there's a lot of work, and an immense amount of responsibility involved in making sure this village is safe."
you stop gazing into the mirror, opting to look down at the flickering candle on the desk instead. "i expect you to take care of this village to the best of your ability," you murmur. "it's okay, my dear."
gaara can't believe how gentle you're being. his lips form a slight frown, because your acceptance hurts him way more than your anger would have. slowly, he leans even closer into you, ensuring that this time, the warmth of his body surrounds your back, with his chest barely grazing the seat as his head settles besides yours. his lips chase what little space there is dividing you both, yet still, they don't touch you. they hover just over the shell of your ears.
"but you don't expect me to take care of you to the best of my ability?"
when you register the faint lament in his tone, your heart fractures. you don't have the will to start thinking of a response, nor the courage to finish an answer.
"i don't want you to expect less. please don't expect less of me, y/n," he lowers his voice. "all the time i spend away from you.. the times i failed to even hold you when we share the same bed... you can't call that love."
gaara's hands settle against the armrests on either side of you, trapping you gently between him and the vanity.
“when i was younger, i convinced myself that loneliness was survivable. but your love taught me that surviving and living are very different things. you shouldn't have to survive loneliness because i'm the kazekage, y/n."
your shoulders loosen at his sincerity. "yeah?" your voice is soft.
"yes," he whispers. "if you'll let me, i'll make it up to you. please, tell me what to do. i don't want understanding, i need honesty. just tell me, y/n..."
and for the first time that night, you stop hiding from him. your eyes lift to meet his seafoam green ones in the mirror, varnished by the candlelight. when your lips part slightly, it almost feels like the world has stopped spinning, and that the earth will only resume the tilt on its axis when you speak again.
"i need you, gaara."
gaara freezes, the only moving thing in his body being the incessant beating of his heart. "how...?" he asks faintly. the question makes your core feel weak, because you know he'd give you exactly what you want if you told him.
"gaara," you sigh, uncrossing your legs. "i need you. i need to fuck you. i want to feel you." your voice is clear, never once faltering or stuttering. "i want to feel like your wife again, gaara. i can't take it anymore."
"that's what you want..." his stomach flips, and his face feels warm. "you'll have it," he affirms.
your thighs press together under your gown, and gaara's eyes drop to the subtle movement before shifting back to your eyes in the mirror. to his surprise, you turn your head to face him instead of using the mirror as your messenger.
you kiss him first, and he can't believe he's touching you after so long. he releases a soft whimper that tastes sweet in your mouth as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head while his calloused thumb strokes against your cheek. it's almost like a salve that heals the pain, and numbs the hurt.
“y/n…” he breathes against your lips.
you slip out of your seat before gaara can compose himself. when he blinks, he finds that you are no longer slotted between his arms, but instead, stood up before him, fingers playing with the collar of his robes.
"come here, my love."
ironically, the kazekage obeys your order, taking a step closer. his forehead drops against yours, and he stares while your hands slowly begin to loosen the layers of ceremonial garments still clinging to him.
"you came straight here after work, didn't you?"
gaara nods once. "i wanted to see you."
you hum, delivering a soft smile in response. "i'm glad you did." gaara smiles faintly in exchange when he notices that the joy in your eyes have returned.
you push the heavy outer robe from his shoulders, revealing simple dark red clothes underneath that flatter his form perfectly. you notice that the sensation of your palms, smoothing over his chest and down to his firm stomach, casts slight tremors that vibrate under your hands. he's shaking.
"it's only been a few weeks. don't be shy." you tease, peppering soft kisses across his face. "you offered to make it up to me."
for gaara, every moment of intimacy feels like the first time.
with a slow insistence, you walk into him like a vixen cornering her prey, guiding him backwards until the back of his knees gently hit the edge of the bed. he looks up at you with expectant eyes as he sits.
you step in between his parted legs. gaara's hands hover above your hips, prompting you to take them and guide them onto the dipping flesh there. the blank space between his legs is quick to be occupied by you climbing into his lap. your body weight on him feels thrilling, and gaara mentally curses himself for missing out on you, when you were there all along.
he can't help but stare at the outline of your body, wrapped around sheer fabric that looks almost translucent in the candlelight. upon closer inspection, he swallows. you're not wearing anything underneath. when he looks down, he's welcomed by your round breasts, and your nipples poking against the fabric. he begins to question if you planned this out, though he knows you didn't.
"gaara." your gentle call catches him off-guard. his eyes snap back to your face.
"you can touch me, baby." you lean into him. "feel me." you whisper.
his palms move hesitantly at first, gently cupping your soft breasts like he’s afraid he’ll ruin the moment by wanting too much from you. but you press closer like it doesn't matter. you're selfish with your desire when your hips slowly grind against the erection that's already straining against his pants. you show him that it's okay to take as much as he wants.
a helpless sound escapes his lips as you rock against him. your hands wrap themselves around his back of his neck, fingers tenderly grazing along the nape. "i missed you." you whisper in his ear. "i missed you so much."
"oh-," an exhale leaves him, "i missed you too, beloved. i think about you all day." his voice gets more breathy. "i think about you during my meetings..."
"you do, baby?"
"y-yes," he begins to lift his hips up into you, rubbing his clothed dick against the clothed outline of your pussy. "especially during my meetings..."
"what do you think about, hm?" you nibble on his ears, pink with heat.
"us," he pants. "us, just like this..." he squeezes your breasts firmer, rolling his thumbs over your thinly veiled nipples. if it wasn't possible, his face grows even warmer at the confession. it wasn't just you who happened to have pent-up desires.
gaara's lips catch yours in a deep kiss: voraciously, greedily, and needily in a way he rarely allows himself to be. duty always denied him the pleasure of your intimacy, but now, you gave him the opportunity to taste you. your tongue swirls around his, and he feels the bridge between you being mended as you fuse into one, almost consuming him. with your lips still connected, you push his shoulders into the mattress, leaving him laid down on his back with you on top of him.
your lips remain locked until you sit up to hook your fingers around the hem of his shirt. the way you tower above his lap, and raise the shirt as if you've got all the time in the world makes his dick pulse in anticipation. he helps you by lifting his arms, and pulling it over his head before he tosses it aside.
the sight before you is like a display of living art. there's lean muscle that rises and falls with each and every breath he takes. fair skin like ivory that glows under the dim lights. faded scars scattered across his body that tell his story. gaara tracks your expressions carefully, almost shy beneath your attention now that you’re admiring him.
“you're beautiful, gaara." you say quietly.
gaara blinks. "do you think so?"
you look into his eyes. "i'm looking at you. i know you are, my love."
he hums at your praise falling on his ears.
your fingers brush across his neck, planning out your next mission before you lean down to leave kisses against the sensitive skin there. you stay buried in the crook of his neck, just for a minute to breathe him in, and what your nose picks up is intoxicating. it's the nostalgic smell of oud that has lingered from the day you met, up until this moment. it makes you groan and nip hungrily at his neck, warranting breathless pleas from gaara that don't stop as you continue the trail of kisses that move from the ridges of his collarbones, to his chest. it's almost overwhelming, knowing that you finally have all of him to yourself. there's so much of him that you want to taste.
"fuck, gaara," you kiss along his chest. "if it were up to me, you'd never have to work again." your soft lips meet the plane of his toned abs, and gaara watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, completely transfixed by the sheer amount of attention you're paying to his body. "i'd just keep you here all day..." when you finally kiss your way to the waistband of his pants and become level with his constrained erection, your eyes stay trained on his.
gaara exhales shakily when your smooth knuckles tease along his iliac crest, with muscles flexing instinctively at your touch. the way you look up at him through your eyelashes like a temptress makes his chest stir, and he can't wait for you to free his cock from his pants.
after what feels like eternity, your deft fingers slip to the buttons of his pants. button after button, you take your precious time while never averting your gaze from his. a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead when you're done.
you tug down on the waistband of his pants, indicating for him to lift his hips up. when he does, you're quick to pull them off, leaving him clad in only a pair of boxers that already have a dark patch on them, saturated with precum.
"oh, gaara," you chide teasingly. "is this all because of me?" after all this time, it's still thrilling to see the impact you have on your husband. it makes you even hungrier.
"it is, y/n," his breathing is shallow. "it always is..."
you peel away at the final article of clothing, revealing his pulsating hardness once and for all. his dick twitches upon exposure to the air, and you catch it in your hand, mulling your thumb over his leaking, flushed tip. "i can't believe i get to have you to myself, gaara." your wet tongue presses against the underside of his cock, outlining every vein as you lick from base, to shaft, to tip. "all of you."
gaara doesn't know what he enjoys more: the feeling of your tongue giving his cock grace, or your words and undivided attention. it makes him grip onto the sheets. the sight of this alone tempts him to abandon his post as kazekage, and just give the role to kankuro instead.
you're eager in fitting his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, and allowing yourself to feel the tip of his dick hit the soft palate at the back of your mouth. the pleasure is unbearable for gaara, who can't stop calling your name as you continue to fuck his slippery dick into the depths your throat. giving gaara head was something you would always take delight in, because you love the power you have over him. you love the fact that only you are capable of making him fall apart like this.
gaara's hand extends itself, landing softly on the top of your head. he doesn't exert pressure or push your head down. no, this moment is yours, and he doesn't want to take from you. he simply wants to feel you twice as much. your glossy eyes look into his, and what he sees pushes him to the periphery of an orgasm. his cock, drenched in your saliva. your cheeks, hollow around him. and your lips, shiny and slightly swollen from earlier's kissing. the sloppy noises of your mouth make it all too positively overwhelming for him.
"y/n," he pants. "y/n... i'm very, very close. i don't think i'll last if-" his sentence is fragmented by a soft moan. "my love..."
you separate your mouth from gaara's cock and pull away at his warning, catching your breath briefly. "cum for me, baby. let me taste you." to compensate for the feeling of your throat, you twist around his dick with your hands. you angle his cock towards your lips, and stick your tongue out. he groans, and you catch the droplets of warm, thick cum that spew out of him. it tastes slightly bitter in your mouth, like green tea. you don't waste a single drop, making sure it all gets swallowed.
"you liked that, didn't you?" you plant a kiss on his lower abdomen, still tense from his orgasm. "i did, y/n. very much." he blushes, almost speechless.
"i'm not through with you, gaara."
"well, it's only natural that you aren't," he responds. "i do have a lot to make up for. and i owe you a lot, don't i?" gaara's hand raises to cup your cheek, then it lowers onto his lap. "y/n. come to me." his hand pats on his lap, gesturing for you to take your throne.
with your legs straddling his hips, you put your weight on the seat of his lap. gaara can already feel the blood rushing back to his cock from just looking at you. the second skin of your dress describes every curve in your arsenal: the swell of your tits, the slight inward dip of your waist, your rippling tummy, and the fleshiness of your hips that flare out where you're seated on his lap. you resemble something divine to him.
"beautiful." the word comes out like a reflex. without speaking any further, he lifts both his palms slowly, feeling along the silhouette of your body. he starts at the broad expanse of thighs, travelling with an intentional slowness to your ass. he cups and squeezes each cheek, both of them supple underneath his grip. "gaara..." you gasp.
"y/n," he half-whispers. "there are moments where i can't believe you're real, and the only way i'm convinced is if i feel you... just like this."
gaara's hands continue their journey. they're gliding up the hollow of your waist and they move inwards to catch the soft flesh of your tummy. it's been too long since he's touched you like this, and it's almost like he's trying to remember what you feel like. he's missed how you feel. there's warmth on your breasts as his palms flatten over the mound, while his thumbs brush over your hard nipples, desperate to break through the cloth. your dress may as well not be there, with the way gaara's eyes are burning holes into it.
your hips moving back and forth on his lap catch his attention. gaara doesn't intend on denying you your pleasure any more than he already has in his absence. single-handedly, he tears the dress off your body, exposing your skin to him at long last.
he already thought you were beautiful before, but the sentiment seems to be amplified when he sees your beauty marks, your scars, and all the other flaws decorating your skin that make you none the more perfect in his eyes.
"shame," your voice is teasing. "i really liked that dress."
gaara positions his hard dick in between your sopping, wet folds, more pleased about the fact that there's no barrier between you now. "yeah? me too. it looked good on you," he blushes. "i'll get you as many pairs as you want, beloved. i'm sorry i did that."
he slides back and forth effortlessly against your pussy, soaked from all the events of the night. when his tip catches on your clit, you moan at how exquisite the friction feels. gaara is mesmerised watching you ride his lap. the lewd sounds of your essence and his precum fill the room, making his head spin. both of your lips are agape, spilling breaths and moans the outside world can't hear.
"baby..." you pant, "i need more."
"you need more, my dear?
"fuck, y-yes, gaara," your body is covered in a thin film of sweat from the speed you've been grinding against him at. "i need you to fuck me!"
that's all the confirmation he needs to lift your ass from his lap, leaving you hovering above him while he holds the base of his erection. he rubs along your pussy until the tip of his cock finds your entrance.
"are you ready, y/n?" he knows you're more than ready when he sees your pussy drooling essence onto his cock, but still, he wants to be certain.
"gaara. i have never wanted you to fuck me more than in this moment."
he rapidly exhales from his nose, smiling at you faintly. "very well."
when his tip burrows in your entrance, you breathe in. you savour how delicious the stretch feels in your pussy as you sink down effortlessly on his entire length. a wave of satisfaction washes over gaara when he sees that he's finally reacquainted with your warm walls that fit oh-so-perfectly around his dick. he's fantasised about this happening countless times while working, and for it to finally be happening? it's like a dream come true.
"beloved..." he breathes out.
"i know, my love..." you coo.
you begin bouncing on gaara's cock, up and down, up and down, keeping that addicting pace. gaara moans softly. it feels much too good, and even better after the excruciatingly long wait. your deserving pussy has been empty for so long, and now, your husband's dick is finally here to fulfil your appetite. you've made a plan: you're going to cum on his cock, and you're not going to allow him to do so much as spill a single drop.
"g-gaara...hah," you breathe. "i missed having you here like this, baby," you call out through the echoing smacks of skin on skin filling the room. "you feel so good inside of me, my love."
the knot in gaara's stomach tightens at your words, as your dripping cunt rides him into oblivion. there's nothing but absolute desire in your eyes as you speak to him in your erotic daze. it makes him blush, and raise his hips to fuck harder against that gummy spot deep in your pussy. when you sink your hips, he lifts his. it knocks the wind out of you.
he looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, face warm with pleasure. "am i doing a good job, y/n?"
you look down at his eyes. "ah!-" you cry out, moaning ceaselessly at the feeling of his cock pressing relentlessly against your g-spot. "gaara, sweetheart, i can't get enough of you." slap! slap! slap! "nobody could fuck me like you do."
gaara's breathing gets heavier and heavier for every one of your praises, and for every thrust he makes in your tight heat. his left hand cups one of your jiggling breasts, rolling a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his right hand pivots to your pussy, using his thumb to rub firm circles around your protruding clit. you're not even bouncing on his cock anymore, leaving the work to gaara as you're too entranced by the pleasure.
"i would do anything for you..." he speaks between thrusts. "i love you endlessly." his hands come to your hips, keeping them stationary as he fucks you instead. your eyelashes are fluttering. you're rolling your eyes, and he can feel your pussy gradually getting wetter.
"i...i love you too, sweet boy. you mean so much to me, gaara."
he can tell that you're getting close. you can tell that he's getting close too, with his thrusts getting more sloppy and less focused.
"are you going to pull out?"
his heart skips at the question. "do you want me to...?"
"no, baby, don't. don't pull out," you whine. "i want you to cum inside me... okay?"
"i'll give anything you want." gaara sits up just to wrap his arms around you before laying back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. you're both laying chest-to-chest, arms tangled around each other as gaara continues to pound inside of you.
"gaara," you whisper in his ear, "i'm gonna cum..."
"oh, y/n... i'm getting close too..."
you're the first to reach your orgasm, with your pussy clamping viciously around gaara's cock. a breathless moan floats out of your mouth as you cream all over him, drenching him in sweet slick that leaves a ring around his length.
it's over for gaara when he sees your euphoric bliss, which in itself, triggers his own orgasm. he screws his eyes shut tightly, groaning in your ear as every muscle in his body grows stiff with his climax.
endless spurts of hot, white ribbons of cum pulse into your receiving pussy, with gaara's hold around your waist pinning you down on top of him while he fills you up. you're both sucking in gasps of air as you stay suspended in the aftermath of your orgasms for a few more moments. your clit is still pounding. his cock is still spilling cum.
"y/n..." he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips. "i love you."
"gaara." your fingers sweep through his dishevelled red hair, revealing the character on his forehead. "i love you too." you press a soft kiss on it.
sitting up as you were before, you pull his softening cock out of you, and you both watch as the cum slowly spills out of you. you smirk at him, and he doesn't know what to blush at.
you cast your attention to the clock on the wall. it reads half-past 10. you've been doing this for the past hour and a half, and there's still so much time to spare.
"gaara..." you cup his face. what time do you have to be up for?"
"i don't have to be up for any time, y/n. my schedule has been cleared for now."
your eyes widen. "...what?!"
"temari and kankuro convinced me to have a break... and they succeeded. i should've started with that. forgive me."
"don't apologise, baby. that's perfect!" you beam with joy.
"i'm pleased, y/n."
"i hope you know that i'm not going to give you a break, though." the hunger in your eyes return when you look down at him. "we have a lot of time to make up for." your hand slowly trails along his inner thigh.
he doesn't know how you do it. you've already made him hard again. a slight smirk graces his lips.
"i suppose we do."
a/n: nonnie i hope you enjoy this! this was very fun for me to write. feel free to send me more requests. tried to deliver something in the middle of finals and you can Lowkey tell where i ran out of steam ughhhh but it's all good!
tl: @t1track @jone3y @itachispetrock @numberoneshinjifan (didn't really know if my other tags are into gaara! lmk!)
leon’s daughter learns the word no and uses it the whole day. fluff. 0.9k wc.
leon has handled worse in the past. he’s sure of it. he’s been shot at, chased, infected with deadly viruses, and thrown into abysmal situations where the only plan was to survive and improvise. this, however? this shouldn’t be harder than that, right?
he should’ve known today was going to be difficult the second his daughter woke up and discovered the power of the word no. since breakfast, she’d used it for everything. she used it when she was angry. she used it when she was happy. she used it when she agreed with something. sometimes she even used it while actively doing the thing she was supposedly refusing to do.
now, as the evening settled outside the windows and painted the living room gold, the toddler stood by the front door, bouncing excitedly. “outside!”
“yeah, kiddo,” leon said, grabbing her tiny sneakers. “outside. now c’mere.”
the smile on her face immediately vanished. “no.”
“no outside?” he asked, confused.
“outside!” came the enthusiastic reply.
“okay.” leon crouched down in front of her. “then let’s put your shoes on.”
“no!” she declared, jerking her foot away, making leon miss the shoe entirely.
your daughter sat heavily on the floor, arms crossed and bottom lip sticking out in pure stubbornness.
“sweetheart,” he tried again, gentler this time, “can i put your shoes on?”
“no.”
“can mommy put your shoes on?”
“no.”
“can the president of the united states put your shoes on?”
and she actually seemed to consider it for a moment, before the expected reply came, “no.”
“mm, thought so.” for a minute, leon simply sat beside her, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the tiny sneakers as if they held all the answers. leon was beginning to suspect that whoever said toddlers were easy had never actually met one. now that wasn’t to say he didn’t love her. if anything, experience had taught him that trying to out-stubborn a toddler was like trying to fist-fight a tornado. eventually, he gave up and asked, “what shoes do you want to wear?”
now that got her attention and tears stopped before they’d even started. when she pointed to the front door, leon followed her finger, pointing to the pair of black combat boots sitting there. his boots.
“no, bug...” he tried to reason with her.
her tiny finger, however, remained steady. “papa boots.”
he knew there was no trying to reason with her. that simply wouldn’t work. still, leon looked towards you for help. you had a digicam in your hand, recording the whole thing and trying not to laugh. playing this at her highschool graduation dinner and embarrassing her would be so fun. “she’s got a point,” you said.
“how?” he chuckled at the ridiculousness of it.
“i don’t know?? toddler logic.”
your toddler waddled over to the boots and wrapped both her arms around one of them. it looked ridiculous. the boots were as long as her entire leg. leon sighed and gave in.
five minutes later came tantrum number two when leon wouldn’t let her wear his boots without socks.
tantrum number three happened because he put the left boot on first.
tantrum number four occurred because he’d tried to zip up her jacket. “no!” she cried.
“you don’t want to wear your jacket?”
“no.”
“what jacket do you want?”
and at the question, the toddler pointed at the leather jacket leon was wearing. “you want my jacket?” he asked, and she nodded vigorously in reply.
thankfully, there were no more tantrums after that. by the time you three finally made it outside, leon felt like he had survived a boss fight. your toddler, however, was delighted. papa’s boots and papa’s jacket? oh, this was the best day ever.
she waddled down the sidewalk happily and with all the confidence in the world. leon had to fold the sleeves of his jacket up six times, and it still nearly swallowed her whole and the hem nearly touched the ground.
his boots were even worse. every step was an adventure. clomp. pause. wobble. clomp. the boots slid and slipped around her tiny feet so much she looked like a baby duck learning how to walk.
but she was beaming, and that is what mattered. plus leon was careful, helping her each time she wobbled. every few steps, she’d look down at herself, visibly remembering what she was wearing, and wobble.
“papa boots!” she chirped happily.
leon nodded proudly.
“papa jacket!!”
“yes, bug.”
she took another few steps and then she held up her arms dramatically. “papa!”
the declaration was so proud, it made leon laugh warmly. “that’s right, bug. papa.”
she giggled and continued her impossible journey down the sidewalk. after about thirty feet, she got tired and demanded uppies. leon lifted her effortlessly and immediately she curled against his chest, tiny hands grabbing at the collar of his shirt.
“you know,” you said, walking beside them, “she just wanted to match with you.”
“yeah.” leon smiled warmly, looking down at the little girl already getting sleepy against his chest. and then, smugly, to tease you, “my outfits are obviously cooler. she has inherited my fine taste.”
“sure,” you rolled your eyes playfully, cracking a fond smile nonetheless. when you looked at your daughter, she looked ridiculous, really. one boot almost dangling off her foot. ridiculously adorable. but also impossibly happy.
“papa...” your daughter yawned softly, the hold of her tiny hand gripping his collar tightened.
“yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.
this time, there was no no. just a content little hum as she snuggled deeper into papa’s jacket, perfectly satisfied now that she looked just like papa.
genuine writers getting wrongly accused of using ai because of witch hunt and proper grammar/structure in their works must be what being a woman in the 1600s who is wrongly accused of being a witch because she can read and is intelligent feels like
𐙚 like i would mini series : fem!reader x kakashi hatake. (au)
𐙚 context: after years of your break up with kakashi, he makes sure you understand that no other man would love you like he would.
𐙚 chapter 2/4 - word count: 4072 ch: 1
authors note: here’s chapter two, so yeah, i was completely out of my mind yayyy ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶ I told you i was gonna give you a bigger chapter, pspsps, before reading i wanna let you guys know that this fanfic have bittersweet moments and the other dude is visually inspired by joo jaekyung from the jinx manhwa. i don’t wanna hear how how shitty he was in the manhwa, believe me I KNOW, but he is just too damn hot—i need him to take part on the story sue me, but besides he being the visual inspiration for the other guy there’s nothing else. I reviewed the chapter, but my apologies for any typo or any mistakes! Anyways, live laugh fuck us kakashi. Amen, good read sweetie <3. (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)
The silk beneath your fingers matched the summer dawn outside the window; it felt fluid, bright, and completely weightless.
The fruits of your lifelong labor were finally here. You had loved fashion since you were a little girl; fifteen years ago, you were just the daughter of farmers living outside Konoha’s walls. You had come to the great Leaf Village with nothing but a dream of starting your own boutique, working tireless hours in different shops to save money while taking on simple clothing orders; you went from sewing a ripped uniform for a shinobi to designing simple dresses for low-rank shinobi wife’s. It wasn’t until you turned twenty that you were finally able to afford the keys to your own modest storefront.
Now, ten years later, you were standing in your studio, in the back of your store, watching the showroom buzz with life. Three employees moved gracefully between five customers, all browsing the racks of your original designs. The view brought a profound sense of warmth to your heart; you smiled at the thought that you had actually made it.
The road had been rocky, and your business had struggled immensely; especially five years ago, when you were grieving something, or someone who was still alive; in the immediate aftermath of that heartbreak, you had aggressively weaponized your craft simply to survive. You buried your thoughts and unhealed feelings under an endless mountain of orders, pouring every single ounce of your remaining emotional and mental endurance into your designs.
But the pain became your catalyst. What had once been a good local clothing store was now a blooming powerhouse with your name proudly displayed at the door.
You began traveling to other lands in search of rare inspiration, seeking out unique cultural experiences to help define your style and build your brand. You were finally achieving the exact dream that a younger version of yourself had held close. The heavy, lingering fog had cleared; your life was finally, beautifully back in place.
But you wouldn’t have done it entirely alone. Kurenai and Shizune had been your anchors for the last five years, even as shinobi themselves, bound to the same exhausting world that had fractured your heart once, they chose to walk with you through every step of your recovery.
They consistently showed up for you, shielding your newfound peace with a fierce, protective devotion. They helped you navigate the hardest time of your life, offering an unwavering support that never once required his name to be mentioned to validate your pain.
Yet, moving on didn't mean suffering from amnesia. Sometimes, on the quiet stroll home after a long day at your studio, the village itself would betray you still.
Sometimes when you passed by one of his favorite bookstores, your eyes would instinctively track the new releases displayed in the window, and a faint ache would bloom behind your ribs. It wasn’t a desperate longing anymore, just an unfortunate heavy note of nostalgia for the version of Kakashi that existed in a very distant past. The man who used to curl up on your couch with green tea in hand, reading aloud while his fingers traced idle patterns into your hip.
It was a brief, bittersweet pause; a small acknowledgment of a past life that no longer belonged to you, or at least you thought.
"If you stare at that pattern any longer, you're going to burn a hole right through it."
The voice was low, rich, and alive, instantly making you smile widely. You looked up, a genuine smile instantly erasing the lingering thoughts of the bookstore.
Standing in the doorway to the staff area was Kaiza. He stood with his arms folded over his broad chest, his dark, unruly hair falling into sharp, intense eyes that looked directly at you. His loose linen shirt was laced casually at the collar, completely open, exposing the warm skin of his throat. Kaiza was a chef who absolutely loved to spoil you, and for the past two months, he had become your safe haven.
It all started three months ago during a girls' night out with Kurenai and Shizune. They had taken you to check out a newly opened restaurant in the district. The short-haired one had ended up getting pretty wasted, talking absolutely nonsense most of the time and explain to us how Kurenai got the prettiest perfect size tits and a body that could make any man’s head spin, especially a certain Mr. Asuma. Shizune wasn't wrong; everyone thought that. Kurenai and I laughed until our stomachs ached because we knew that shizune would be completely out of it tomorrow.
The chaotic night had ended with you and Kurenai literally carrying Shizune out of the establishment. It was a massive struggle, since every two steps, Shizune tried to break free and sprint back inside to finish the remaining sake bottles under the excuse she wouldn’t be able to do it again until god knows when. Just as your arms were giving out, Kaiza had stepped out of the door behind you three and like a true gentleman, he offered his help, lifting a rapidly sleeping Shizune into his arms and carrying her while you and Kurenai guided him.
Once you finally reached the apartment, Kurenai announced she was staying overnight to make sure Shizune would be fine in the morning, but before crossing the threshold, she made sure to speak firm enough for the strange man to hear; she casually dropped that she was an elite Jonin for the Leaf, and that Shizune was a deadly shinobi herself; when not wasted. It was a blatant, highly effective warning in case he tried anything funny.
Back then, Kaiza didn't even flinch; he simply lifted his hands in a peaceful, defensive gesture that clearly signaled I wouldn’t dare.
Assuring the crimson-eyed woman that you were heading straight home, Kaiza warmly offered to walk you the rest of the way. Right before the door clicked shut, Kurenai poked her head out one last time, glaring down at him to make absolutely sure he took her threat seriously. He did, in fact, to the point that the silent threat still felt relevant even in the present day.
The walk had been nice and filled with laughs from the both of you when he admitted to being scared of Kurenai. Through a couple of easy chats here and there, you learned he was actually the owner and head chef of the restaurant you had just left; he had been wrapping up a long shift to head home when he spotted you and the girls struggling on the sidewalk.
After that night, the universe seemed determined to keep tossing you into each other's paths. You would randomly run into him at the morning markets, where he was hand-selecting fresh produce for his kitchen and you were shopping for your empty fridge.
A week later, you bumped into him again outside your favorite tea shop; he had immediately paid for your drink, and then both of you decided to walk on the sunny street corner while he just listened to you talk about your love for clothes.
After a third accidental run-in at the dango stand, Kaiza had finally smiled, looked you dead in the eye, and asked you out on a proper, official date to a quiet spot on the edge of the village.
From then on, the dynamic had evolved. It started with late-night drinks and casual hookups, but it had steadily deepened into something beautifully intentional. He didn't come with a countdown timer, and he most definitely stayed for the entirety of every single date.
"I brought the beef noodles you liked from the test kitchen," Kaiza said, stepping into your workroom and immediately grounding the space with his presence. “No spicy seasoning this time, since you can’t even handle a single lick of Rayu anymore”.(rayu: Japanese chili oil). He set the steaming container on your table, casually nudging a stray spool of thread out of the way.
"I handled it perfectly fine until your recipe burned my tastebuds off," you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully as you smoothed down the fabric of the dress you were working on. "A chef shouldn't be weaponizing his spice against innocent civilians."
Kaiza let out a rich, booming chuckle that instantly filled the quiet room. "You've been sewing since the last time I was here,” he noted smoothly, completely ignoring your defense as he walked around the long worktable to step right up behind you; his close proximity cast a sudden, comforting wave of heat over your shoulders. “And I was literally here this morning. Step away from the mannequin and let me take care of you for thirty minutes."
You turned around to face him, stepping directly into his space and letting his strong arms wrap securely around your waist. When he leaned down to kiss you, his lips were warm, tasting faintly of ginger and star anise; there was no hesitation in his touch, no underlying fear of a sudden summoning scroll violently tearing him away from your side.
"You're a lifesaver, Mr. Togashi," you murmured against his jaw, leaning your entire weight into him.
"I know," he chuckled, his fingers lightly kneading the tension out of your lower back. "Now sit. Eat. Tell me how the trade meeting with the Suna merchants went, and later I'm dragging you out to the restaurant tonight. I'm finalizing the private booth menu, and I need my best critic."
By the time dusk painted the village in deep shades of indigo and violet, the boutique was finally locked for the night. Walking down the bustling main street, your fingers were loosely intertwined with Kaiza’s. He was telling a story about a spice market in the Land of Lightning, his deep laughter echoing softly against the storefronts. His palm was broad, warm and anchored against your side.
For the first time in so many years you felt completely visible. You weren't a secret kept in an apartment; you were a woman being proudly led into the light.
Meanwhile, only a few hundred yards away, the vibrant energy of the village felt entirely detached from the heavy silence hovering over the Jonin standby station.
Kakashi leaned against a wooden railing, his hands buried deep in his pockets as Asuma stood beside him, lazily exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. They had just returned from a gruelling, week-long scouting mission near the border, their bodies exhausted.
Asuma was speaking about the mission report having to be at Tsunade's desk by the next morning, his voice low and steady. Kakashi nodded along out of habit, his lone visible eye tracking the crowd with passive vigilance.
Then, his entire universe came to a violent halt.
A familiar silhouette stepped into the glow of a street lantern, Kakashi’s breathing locked in his throat. His visible pupil dilated in an instant, a sharp, physical jolt of recognition firing straight through his chest.
It had been five years. Five years of agonizing silence, of forcing himself to try to stop thinking about you, of convincing his own fractured soul that letting you go was the only noble thing he had ever done. He had memorized the shape of your sadness on that final night, but seeing you now, the contrast was staggering.
You were still breathtaking, just like he remembers. The dark circles under your eyes were entirely gone; your long hair caught the low breeze flowing and your posture relaxed, and radiantly alive. Your eyes shone with a light that had been completely missing during the rocky final months of you and him.
But the air left Kakashi's lungs entirely when his eye traced the path of your arm down to your hand, firmly, comfortably locked inside the grasp of another man.
Kakashi’s gaze locked onto Kaiza. His shinobi instincts, usually reserved for lethal threats, began furiously analyzing the stranger man. He didn't know who this man was. He didn't know where you were going. All he could see was a man who stood with absolute confidence; wearing comfortable, open linen that didn't carry the weight of a flak jacket. Kakashi watched as the man leaned down, whispering something in your ear that made you throw your head back and laugh, a genuine, unburdened sound that Kakashi hadn't heard from you in the final six months of your relationship.
A suffocating wave of something similar to a planet caught in their orbit, and bitter jealousy roared to life inside Kakashi's chest, hot and punishing. A thought echoed sharply in his mind, dark and unbidden, born from a desperate, bleeding ego.
At the same time, Asuma trailed off mid-sentence. He had noticed the sudden, rigid shift in his friend's shoulders, the way the usually lazy, slouching man had gone entirely static, his posture wired like a wire under tension. Asuma followed the line of Kakashi's vacant, hyper-fixated stare across the crowded street until his eyes landed on you and Kaiza.
Asuma took a slow, heavy drag from his cigarette, a profound wave of sympathy washing over him. Because of his own relationship with Kurenai, Asuma understood the brutal toll of loving someone while bound to the shinobi life. Kurenai had told him how much you had suffered before the break and after, and how hard you had worked to rebuild your personal life from the ashes.
"Kakashi," Asuma muttered softly, the smoke curling around his bearded face as he spoke in a low, warning tone. He didn't look at his friend, keeping his eyes on the crowd to protect whatever dignity Kakashi had left. "Let it be. You gave up the right to look at her like that the second you crossed the door."
Kakashi didn't answer right away. His knuckles turned white inside his pockets, his eye remained entirely anchored to your back as you and Kaiza turned the corner toward the newer district of the village, disappearing from his sight but burning a permanent, agonizing image into his mind.
Once the last flash of your coat vanished around the stone corner; the street seemed to darken instantly in your absence, keeping Kakashi entirely frozen. A suffocating silence hung over the two men.
Asuma didn't push immediately. He let the silence breathe, watching the embers of his cigarette burn down to a sharp orange point before flicking the ash over the edge. He knew the volatile nature of a man’s regret; he had stared it down in his own mirror more times than he cared to admit.
"She looks well, Kakashi," Asuma said quietly, his voice low and steady. It wasn't meant to wound; it was just an unavoidable truth.
Kakashi didn't move a single muscle. His lone visible eye remained locked on the empty corner where you had been just seconds before, his pupil still tightly dilated from the shock of seeing you. The image of your hand resting so naturally in Kaiza’s palm was burned into his retinas. Since the break up, he had convinced himself that you were simply working on your business, that you were safe, and that his absence was a shield protecting you from his chaotic world. He had never prepared himself for the reality of you replacing him, even after five years.
"She does," Kakashi finally replied. His voice was raspy, stripped entirely of its usual casual cadence. It sounded hollow, like a man speaking from the bottom of a well.
"Kurenai tells me her business is expanding to the other villages," Asuma continued, turning his back to the street to lean his elbows against the railing, giving his friend some space to breathe. "She's been grinding like crazy these last years. Works herself ragged. Kurenai says she’s finally smiling again.”
The words struck Kakashi with the blunt-force of a physical blow. Smiling again. It meant that during their final six months together, he had been the one draining the light out of your face.
He remembered the dark circles under your eyes on the night of the breakup, the redness of your nose, the tears sliding down your face, the absolute finality in your posture, and the devastating realization that he had become the villain in your life just by trying to survive his missions.
"Who is he?" Kakashi asked. The question tore out of him before he could stop it. It was a weak, deeply human inquiry that felt entirely foreign on the tongue of Konoha's most lethal captain.
Asuma glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, noting the rigid, tension running through Kakashi’s shoulders. "I don’t know much about him, but his name is Kaiza Togashi. Apparently a chef who opened that high-end place down in the new district last month." Asuma paused, letting the description sink in before adding the most critical statement.
Kakashi closed his eye, a deep, exhausting ache blooming behind his eyelids. The bitter, possessive instinct that had flared up when he saw Kaiza whisper in your ear was still simmering in his chest, making him feel entirely unraveled. He wondered what the man had said to make you laugh like that. He wondered how soft that man’s hands were to make you grip them so tightly, and how warm his body was to make you want to stay so close. He wondered if anything in that man reminded you of him. Kakashi wanted to despise the man, wanted to find a flaw in his posture or a threat in his open demeanor, but there was nothing.
The stranger was just a good man holding the hand of an amazing woman Kakashi had abandoned.
"You both made a choice years ago," Asuma said, his voice dropping into a firmer, older brother tone as he tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his sandal. "You told her she deserved someone who could stay. You were right then, and you're right now. Don't go tearing down the peace she finally found just because it hurts to see her living it."
Kakashi remained silent for a long moment, the cool night breeze ruffling his silver hair.
"I know," Kakashi murmured, his voice returning to that flat, unreadable slate that the everyone knew so well. He pushed himself off the railing, his posture instantly melting back into his trademark lazy, slouched demeanor , a perfect mask over a bleeding soul. "I'm just tired from the mission. I'm going to head home. You can take care of the mission report."
Asuma watched him walk away into the shadows of the street, his heart heavy for his friend. He knew Kakashi wouldn't sleep tonight; he knew the man would spend the dark hours pacing his empty apartment, haunted by the ghost of a civilian girl who had finally stepped into the light.
The transition from the cool breezy main street into Kaiza’s restaurant felt like stepping directly into a furnace of warmth and life. The establishment was stunning; the architecture blended polished cedar wood with minimalist paper screens, completely filled with the rich, intoxicating aromas of toasted sesame, ginger, and rich bone broths.
Thriving under Tsunade’s economic boom, the main dining room was completely packed with local civilians and off-duty shinobi. Yet, the moment Kaiza slid open the heavy door to the private booth in the back, the bustling noise of Konoha melted away into a quiet, intimate sanctuary.
"Welcome back to my office," Kaiza murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile as he gestured for you to take a seat on the plush tatami mats.
He didn't immediately join you; instead, he bypassed the table to shed his outer coat, hanging it up alongside yours before moving toward a small, private prep station built into the corner of the booth. Stripped down to his simple clothes, the sprawling veins across his forearms flexed as he washed his hands.
You couldn’t help yourself from watching the effortless way his muscles moved under his skin; a sudden, low pull of warmth stirred deep within your chest, a heavy and long-forgotten rhythm typing against your ribs as your eyes lingered on the solid strength of his back.
Yet, right alongside that quiet flare of heat, a wave of profound comfort settled over you. This was a man completely grounded in his craft. Unlike the chaotic, unstable experiences you had survived in your past life, Kaiza’s entire world was tangible, predictable, and sweet.
"I've been working on a five-course tasting menu inspired by my time in the Land of Fire's capital," he explained, his expressive dark eyes locking onto yours with undivided attention. "But tonight, you're only getting the centerpiece. A slow-braised duck with plum glaze and hand-pulled noodles."
"You're completely spoiling me, Kaiza," you teased, leaning your chin in your hand as you watched his precise, unhurried movements.
"That's exactly the plan," he replied smoothly, pouring you a small cup of warm, premium sake before setting a beautifully arranged plate in front of you.
As you took your first bite, the rich, savory flavors burst across your palate, perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the plum. You let out a quiet sigh of pure satisfaction, making Kaiza chuckle with genuine pride. He finally sat down across from you, pouring himself a cup of sake and folding his arms on the low table.
"You know, I’ve been thinking about how nice it's been going out with you," he said softly, taking a slow sip of his sake. “I’ve been enjoying our moments quite a lot”. His dark, expressive eyes didn't waver; they anchored you right to the spot with a quiet intensity.
The warmth of the sake burning down your throat paired with his directness made the low pull in your chest flare into something entirely undeniable. It had been years since you last shared a connection like this with anyone. Your last breakup had shattered your heart into a million jagged pieces; it had taken an immense amount of time to glue it all back together, forming a new fragile heart.
You couldn't lie and say you hadn't deeply enjoyed these last two months with Kaiza. Even when things were just a casual hookup, he was incredibly attentive; he made you feel thoroughly seen and desired. "It’s been the best part of my months too, Kaiza."
As he slid closer to you, his large frame instantly blocked out the rest of the room. When his broad hand reached out, his warm, soft thumb cupped your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his.
“Good.” That’s all he said before his lips closed the distance, warm and tasting faintly of sweet plum and premium sake.
The moment his mouth pressed into yours, that same stubborn, powerful spark fired deep within your brain; intoxicating, heavy rush of pure familiarity that left you momentarily breathless. Without your mind actively recognizing or being able to name the feeling, your body instantly melted into the sensation, your veins singing with the phantom memory of what it felt like to be completely consumed by a reckless and familiar passion. Your subconscious instinctively mapped this heat to a blueprint it already knew by heart; the precise, consuming way another man used to demand your space, your air, and your entire soul. It felt incredibly good to feel that specific, devastating fire again.
Kaiza let out a low, rough growl against your mouth, his large hand locking firmly around your waist to pull your weight completely into his body. His lips parted yours with a smooth, consuming hunger, his tongue tasting you deeply, almost capable of driving away every lingering thought of the outside world.
Your heart hammered a wild, frantic rhythm against your ribs; your hands slid up from his shirt to grip the broad muscles of his shoulders, your nails sinking slightly into his skin as the sheer intensity of the intimacy overwhelmed your senses. It had been a very long time since you had been held like this; without a countdown timer, without a hidden mask, and without the terrifying underlying fear of a sudden mission violently tearing him away from your side. Kaiza was entirely present in the heat of the moment, his mouth moving against yours with a raw, desperate possessiveness that left you completely breathless, melting every ounce of your resolve into the plush tatami mats beneath you.
─────────𐙚─────────
author note: let me know what you guys think, I love reading comments as silly as they might be. ily 🤟🏻
𐙚 like i would mini series : fem!reader x kakashi hatake. (au)
𐙚 context: after years of your break up with kakashi, he makes sure you understand that no other man would love you like he would.
𐙚 chapter 1/4 - word count: 1410 - ch: 2
𐙚 authors note: please read the final note
"If it's what you want, then so be it." His voice sounded firm, a carefully constructed barrier meant to hide the sharp ache blooming in his chest.
Kakashi hated the words you had just spoken. Every word felt like a defeat he couldn't strategize his way out of. He stared at you, his visible eye wide and unblinking; he was trying so hard to brace himself that he looked completely detached, terrified that if he showed even a fracture of his composure, he would fall apart right in front of you.
But across from him, you were too emotionally diminished to care about his feelings, like you once did.
You just wanted him to stop looking at you that way. The way his visible pupil trembled in desperation proved he was hurting. You knew it, but so were you.
Your mind violently flashed back to a year ago; the argument in this very house when he had promised he would talk to the Lady Hokage about reducing his border patrols. You still remembered the desperate warmth of his hands holding yours, promising that things would change, that he would find a way to be more present in your life. You had believed him then. But looking at him now, you realized it was just a loop. It was a draining, endless cycle where you kept ignoring the truth just to avoid the fallout, only for the silence between you to grow heavier and angrier every time he left your side.
For a year now, you had survived on the pathetic scraps of his time, waiting up for a man who was always everywhere else but never there for you. You were entirely done waiting to receive the bare minimum, knowing that, in the end, he gave everything he had left to his job. You had tried to be the understanding girlfriend for too long, but loving a ghost was emptying you out from the inside.
A heavy wave of guilt weighed on you, bitter and familiar. You knew exactly what you had gotten yourself into three years ago when he first walked into your shop with Might Guy, who had been one of your longest time clients, a jumpsuit lover freak. It was then, the moment your eyes had crossed Kakashi's, the entire atmosphere in the room had shifted. The room suddenly felt different from any other person who had ever been at the shop before.
But now the atmosphere has shifted again.
“Yes, that’s what I want. Sure, Kakashi,” you said, your voice dripping with a bitter, defensive sarcasm born of pure heartbreak. You wondered how a man could be so brilliant on the battlefield and so utterly blind here. You hated him so intensely in this exact moment, purely because of how much you still loved him. “Because I wanted to be in this position? Because I wanted to receive scraps from my own boyfriend, who can barely spare an hour for me?”
“I tried my best! I tried everything I could! To be here and to keep doing my job. I don’t know what you want from me!”
Kakashi's voice rose, cutting through the tense silence of the apartment like a blade. Inside, he was panicking. He never shouted. He had never once raised his voice at you, even during your worst disagreements, but the terrifying prospect of losing you entirely made him unravel like paper on water. His shoulders were rigid, his breathing shallow. He was a man who conquered the impossible for his village, yet here, in front of you, was completely powerless to stop the slow death of the only good thing in his life.
You didn't flinch away from his anger. Instead, the tears you had suppressed for months finally overflowed, burning hot and bitter against your cheeks.
"I wanted you, kakashi," you whispered, your once soft voice cracking under the weight of your heart breaking. The shouting was gone, replaced by a devastating grief. "Not your ghost. I wanted a partner. Someone to share moments with. Someone who doesn't look at the clock the second he crosses my door." You were falling apart in front of him, unraveling like you never had before in your life. “I look at you standing right across from me, and it feels like there is an entire ocean keeping us apart. There is too much empty space between us now.”
Kakashi closed his eye, your words striking him with a precision that cut deeper than any kunai. The anger drained out of him just as quickly as it had flashed, leaving him looking soul-weary. He rubbed a hand over his face. He wanted to promise you the world, he knew he had made too many promises he couldn’t keep. Now the jar was overflowing.
"This is my job," he said, his voice dropping back down to that quiet, raspy tone, laced with a profound, hidden sorrow. It wasn't an excuse; it was just the brutal reality of his world. He took a single, instinctual step toward you, but stopped when he saw you instinctively tense up. The fact that you had never reacted to him like that shattered his heart in a thousand pieces. “Coming back to you alive is me trying my best."
"And I appreciate that, I really do," you said, your heart shattering completely as you spoke the finality of the truth. "But surviving isn't the same thing as loving me. You're giving everything you have to Konoha, and you're bringing the hollow shell of what's left over to my doorstep. I can't keep living on scraps. It's making me resent you. And I don't want to hate you."
Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Kakashi stood by the window, the moonlight catching the silver of his hair, his mind racing through the breathtaking moments you both had during the good time of the relationship.
He looked at you for a long, quiet moment. His lone visible eye recorded every line of pain and disappointment in your face. What once was a face full of brightness was now completely drowned by dark circles under the eyes that used to light up his hard days. He noted the slump of your shoulder, and the absolute finality in your posture, how you were physically protecting yourself from him. With a cruising weight in his chest, he finally realized what you had been trying to say all along. “I guess we’re already defeated for a while,” He murmured. “I just didn’t realize how deep the damage was.”
You looked up through your wet lashes. The relief of finally being understood was there, mixed with the crushing weight of knowing this was the end of what you had built for three years. The end of gentle kisses, warm hugs in the cold mornings, and the lighting spark of his body when touching you. It was all passing the finish line. You never thought there would be an after him, but here you were, stepping right into it. “I’ve been loving you in the dark, Kakashi. I can't stay this time. Not like before.”
"You deserve someone who can love you and actually be there for you," Kakashi said softly. The words sounded like they tore right out of his chest. “I’m sorry. I really thought we would make it through.”
He walked toward the door, his movements silent. He pulled his mask back up. The barrier against the world was up again, and now the perfect shinobi, even when walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to him, knew he couldn’t look back. He knew that if he turned around and saw you crying again, he would beg to stay. He would be selfish enough to want to keep you close even when it was destroying you. He refused to do that to the only woman who had ever dragged him out of the darkness of his own traumas.
His hand gripped the doorknob. "Goodbye."
The soft click of the lock turning felt louder than any explosion you had ever heard. To you, it felt like you had finally crossed the finish line, but there aren't any winners, only losers. To him, it felt like severing a piece of his own soul.
And just like that, he was gone into the Konoha night, leaving you alone in an apartment that now felt far too big, facing a healing process that would agonize you.
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authors note: hii guys! i hope you like the first chapter of this mini series. i really wanted to talk a little about it!
i got this idea while listening to like i would by our delicious zayn (͡o‿o͡). i kept wondering what it would be like to have THE kakashi hatake, the copy ninja himself, saying those words to me. anyways… i dreamed a little too hard (*ﾉ∀`*) and couldn’t stop myself from writing a fanfic about it.
i could’ve just written the smut, BUT where’s the fun in that? i love drama, i love fights, i love characters suffering and then making me go wowowowo—if you know what i mean.
also, idk if you guys noticed, but i also wrote this breakup chapter inspired in love in the dark by adele, the song was stuck in my head, then i was like… why not?
i was randomly listening to it right after like i would, and suddenly i was like, “wait… what if this song inspired the breakup?” my heart broke (つ﹏<。) just imagining it, and of course i had no choice but to write it. i’m just as emotionally attached to the pain as i am to the romance and smut. I love suffering (︶︹︺)
but anyways ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑ !! i’ll probably be posting the next - longer - chapter tomorrow or thursday (unless i completely lose my mind and post it tonight… but don’t get your hopes up lmao), so keep an eye out!
please please please let me know what you liked or didn’t like, because this is my FIRST EVER time posting a fanfic and i’m trying to build up my confidence. any genuine feedback is more than welcome! just don’t be mean… i’m very sensitive and i will cry.
ps: i love using kaomoji on my notes, so get used to it!
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