About me: Nyx | she/her | '02 | 🇧🇷🇺🇸 | Too many hyperfixations
Rules: I write almost everything. Characters' portrayals are inspired by canon, with adjustments for the sake of the narrative.
I won't write: Extreme gore, anything that makes me uncomfortable or feels genuinely weird, or that I feel disrespects a character's integrity or the real-life actor/VA!
DO NOT repost, translate, modify, or feed my content to AI. All rights to the original writing and plots belong to me.
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My contribution to the Kakashi Path of Life Zine organized by @kakashizine 🍃
When I was choosing which part of Kakashi's life I wanted to paint for this zine, I knew the exact moment I wanted to catch. That second of stillness after he opens Obito's eye for the first time.
The moment just before he pulls his father's tanto for the last time.
(Over)Traumatized!Hokage Kakashi x Pregnant!Reader
(Kakashi's baby cr: Pinterest)
When the reality of fatherhood triggers his deepest fears of losing everything, Kakashi goes to extreme lengths to keep you safe, especially after you fall ill. But when the time comes, he is miles away from home. Will he finally be on time for once, or will history rewrite his greatest tragedy?
.✦ ݁˖ Proofread: Yes! | Word Count: 4.6k (wow) | Warnings: pregnancy (STAY WITH ME, HOLD ON), Fem!reader, descriptions of natural labor pain, heavy pregnancy anxiety, PTSD triggers, established relationship, heavy angst, emotional vulnerability. Readers are free to scroll past if this specific character interpretation does not align with their comfort levels. Characters' portrayals are inspired by canon, with adjustments for the sake of the narrative.
.✦ ݁˖ a/n: Just got my master's with honors, got sick, and am having imposter syndrome. What a time! Anyway, thank you all for reading my AUs!! I appreciate every single one of you! I see your requests in my inbox, and I'm taking care of them, I promise. Thank you for sending them! Also, anyone else whose first language is NOT English has their browsers full of "X word synonym" like I do? Comments, likes & reblogs are always welcome. Enjoy <3 (I truly believe that there is a TIME and PLACE for the preg trope and this is it. STAY WITH ME ON THIS ONE, YALL! One of my best AUs so far :'))
Every sound. Every breeze. Everything was too overwhelming right now for Kakashi.
His palms, sweaty.
His forehead, sweaty.
His heart, almost jumping out of his chest.
Tsunade pushed her stool back. The small wheels scraped against the white linoleum floor. You gripped the edge of the examination cot, afraid of the unknown. The crinkly paper beneath your legs was almost completely ruined from how much you had been shifting around. You sat down after the soft green chakra finally faded from Tsunade's palms.
Kakashi hovered right by your knee. The heavy fabric of his Hokage robe brushed against your shins. He looked like he desperately wanted to pace the room, but he refused to step away from your side.
During the past few days you had been feeling funny, but you brushed it off as something minor. Maybe the flu? Maybe just a bad meal? The morning sickness had to be something you ate, right?
Right?
Tsunade stood up and grabbed a metal clipboard from the nearby counter. Kakashi was following her every move, as if in a matter of seconds, his world could crash down. He didn't ask any questions or try to rush the diagnosis. He just stood there, waiting.
Tsunade flipped a page and finally looked up at the two of you. Her strict posture relaxed into a completely unguarded smile.
"Congratulations! You two are officially expecting."
A pause.
A deep breath.
Is the room spinning, or is it just your and Kakashi's heads?
You let out a massive breath that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. Kakashi immediately reached out to you. His hand enveloped yours, squeezing it softly. You could see his chest heaving with a deep, shaky sigh. He was entirely overwhelmed in the best possible way.
Tsunade tapped her pen against her chin while checking the paper on the clipboard. "Chakra signatures are a bit tricky this early. I would bet my last ryo you are having a little girl, though."
A little girl.
Kakashi's baby girl.
His little, precious little princess.
Kakashi's hand tightened around yours again. His visible eye curved into a soft crescent shape as he raised your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it.
Tsunade began calculating the timeline for the pregnancy, listing out the physical changes you should expect. "We can expect her to be here in early May. Shizune will assist you with the scheduling of future appointments."
The reality of the next nine months settled heavily over the small clinic room. Kakashi tilted his head to look at you. You were glowing, but his hyper-vigilant mind immediately started categorizing every single threat in and out of the village. You were carrying his child. Now you were the most fragile thing in his entire universe.
The profound joy was quickly swallowed by an overwhelming terror. Kakashi had spent his entire life watching his comrades slip through his fingers. He had failed to protect Kushina when he was assigned to guard her. He had nearly lost Sakura in battle countless times.
And Rin.
Rin.
Panic.
The thought of history repeating itself made his blood run completely cold. Now, he was the one wearing the Hokage cloak instead of Minato. Instead of Kushina, you were the one carrying the entire weight of his legacy. Or, at least, the most important part of it.
He stared at your smiling face and silently vowed, once again, to burn the world down before he let anything happen to you.
But could he really keep this promise?
Or would he be late like Minato, the famous Yellow Flash, who was always fast to bring down enemies but too late for situations that actually mattered.
Fear.
Panic.
How many times would Kakashi feel these two emotions over the next nine months?
It started a week after you found out.
You would go to the market for fresh fruit, and Yamato would coincidentally be inspecting grapes two stalls down. You would take a slow walk near the training grounds, and he would somehow be patching up a wooden fence right along your path.
Weird.
At first, you thought it was just a funny coincidence. Then, it became an unquestionable pattern.
Why was Yamato always there? Why was Yamato always in a highly alert state whenever you came across him?
You thought it was very suspicious, and maybe, just maybe, something deep inside of you knew why he was always there. You knew Kakashi wasn’t going to let you be by yourself for too long while he worked on his Hokage responsibilities.
However, you were still not 100% aware of the conversation that had taken place behind the closed doors of the Hokage's office immediately after the clinic visit.
Kakashi had been staring blindly at a stack of trade agreements, his pen completely still.
A single knock on the heavy wood was followed by a sharp "Come in." Yamato stepped into the room as soon as the door opened. He stood at attention on the other side of the oak desk, waiting for whatever conversation was about to happen.
"Tenzo," Kakashi said. His voice sounded nothing like its usual lazy drawl. "I have an ongoing S-rank mission for you."
Yamato braced himself, fully expecting a border dispute or a rogue ninja tracking mission. Whatever it was, he was ready.
"I'm going to be a dad." There was not a single hesitation in his speech. Yamato had seen Kakashi speak in a very stern tone, but there was something entirely different in his words this time. "I fear being the Hokage won't allow me the time to be fully present at every second of her day. That is why you are going to shadow her," Kakashi ordered.
He finally looked up, his visible eye dark and uncompromising. "Every time she steps out of the house. Every time I am stuck behind this desk. You are her secondary shadow. You must report back immediately if anything happens."
Yamato blinked. It took him a second to process the request. He quickly congratulated the Sixth Hokage, but he saw the slight tremor in Kakashi's clenched jaw. The unspoken history of the Fourth Hokage and his pregnant wife hung heavily in the air between them.
Yamato bowed his head immediately. "With my life, Lord Sixth."
Kakashi was not finished yet. He bit his thumb and slammed his hand against the heavy oak desk. A small puff of smoke cleared immediately. It revealed the wrinkly familiar pug sitting right on top of the trade agreements.
Pakkun looked between the Hokage and the now highly stressed ANBU captain. "Another tracking mission, boss?" He yawned.
Kakashi leaned forward and rested his chin on his intertwined fingers. "You are on baby duty, Pakkun. You stay inside the house with her." Pakkun scratched behind his ear lazily, not really impressed by the "mission".
“That means you sleep at the foot of her bed." Now THAT got Pakkun’s attention. Kakashi continued. "You smell danger before it even gets close to our front porch. If her chakra drops, you bite Yamato so he can take her to Tsunade."
Yamato gulped loudly at the “minor” threat, but he didn't dare argue. Pakkun just sighed and mumbled something about his paws needing a massage. He immediately jumped off the desk and trotted away to find you.
From that day on, you had that squishy shadow following you from room to room. Yamato guarded the perimeter outside, but Pakkun was your absolute indoor protector.
He became your favorite couch buddy. Whenever you sat down to rest, Pakkun would hop up and lay his little chin right on your growing bump. He would fall asleep listening to the baby’s heartbeat, completely unbothered whenever your daughter decided to kick him directly in the snout.
Maybe this baby and “mommysitting” mission wasn’t too bad after all.
Yamato and Pakkun were not the only ones hovering. As your bump grew, the entire village seemed to silently agree to wrap you in a protective bubble.
Naruto and Sakura made it a weekly habit to randomly pop up wherever you were. Sakura would drop by the house with special prenatal vitamins she or Tsunade had personally mixed. Naruto would literally materialize out of thin air to carry your groceries, refusing to let you hold anything heavier than a single apple. Keeping the village AND his sensei’s wife protected became his not-so-official mission.
Gai and Lee were even more intense. They would appear at your front gate with ridiculous, and very highly questionable "Youthful Pregnancy Supplements." Sakura promptly confiscated those and threw them in the trash, to say the least.
“Are you two going crazy? Absolutely NOT!” She would yell at their faces.
Instead of letting them feed you, you compromised by letting them do all the yard work so you wouldn't have to lift a finger.
You took this time to learn how to care even deeper for others. It gave you a deep sense of purpose. You prepared fresh meals and drinks for whoever was helping you out. They always said there was no need, but you insisted so you wouldn't feel completely useless.
Everything felt incredibly safe. Until the sixth month hit.
The beautiful, glowing phase of pregnancy completely vanished. It was replaced by a terrifying exhaustion. Your baby was growing fast, and she was greedy, pulling heavily on your chakra reserves.
You started feeling dizzy just walking from the kitchen to the living room. The normal discomforts morphed into very sharp and sudden aches that left you breathless. The first two times it happened, Kakashi was there. He promptly rushed you to bed to rest while he asked Pakkun to find a medical ninja immediately. Shizune evaluated you, recommended intensive rest, and left some medicine to help ease the strain.
One evening, you were making tea when a sudden cramp seized your stomach. The ceramic mug slipped from your hands, shattering across the kitchen floor. Before the pieces even settled, Pakkun jumped up to the kitchen window and called Yamato, who was positioned just outside the back porch.
Yamato let himself in as if he also owned the house. His eyes scanned the room for a threat before landing on you, holding your stomach. He needed to act immediately. He grabbed the first coat in sight, draped it over your shoulders, and escorted you straight to the hospital while Pakkun stayed close to your heels.
These emergency trips became a frequent occurrence over the next two months. Yamato would rush you to the hospital at the slightest wince, and Kakashi would always arrive a few minutes later.
He was the Hokage. He couldn't just abandon a council meeting with the Daimyōs the second his ANBU guard or ninken sent a distress signal. He had to excuse himself, hand off his duties, and then sprint.
Was Kakashi too late?
Would there ever be a time he wouldn’t make it fast enough to see you still there? Waiting for him.
You would be sitting on a hospital cot with an IV drip of chakra supplements when the door would slide open. Kakashi would walk in, his chest heaving. His silver hair messy from sprinting across the rooftops, streets, and whatever free path he could find to reach you. The heavy guilt in his eye every time he arrived was absolutely heartbreaking.
It became a ritual. He would pull a chair right up against the mattress and bury his face in your neck, inhaling your scent just to prove to himself you were still there. He would press kiss after kiss to your knuckles, whispering apologies into your skin for not being there the exact second you felt pain.
You would always acknowledge his feelings, gently assuring him that everything was fine.
You were never mad.
You chose to share this life with him, and backing out was never an option. He was doing everything in his power to keep you safe, but his duties to the village were slowly pulling him away when you needed him most.
Kakashi’s anxiety finally reached its absolute peak in the first week of May.
May.
It’s almost time.
You were just a couple of days away from your due date. Kakashi had prepared everything. You two agreed on two options: either make it to the hospital or call someone to deliver the baby in your house. The second option was his preferred one, so he made sure you had everything you’d need months prior to your due date in case a home delivery would be chosen.
Kakashi still kept up with the ANBU squad, so when he announced that you were about to give birth and he was worried about any potential threats, his ex-squad was ready to take on anything in order to keep you and the baby safe.
Not everything would go according to plan. Of course it wouldn’t.
The village required its Hokage.
A mandatory summit in the Land of Lightning was called. It was an emergency dispute that could not be handled by proxies. Kakashi fought the council for three agonizing days, but he eventually had to pack his travel bag.
Before leaving, he sat by your side in our shared bed and pressed his forehead against yours. You stayed like that in the silence of your house for a few seconds, before he pressed a kiss close to your mouth. You held his face with your hands, as gentle as you could.
“Go. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine! After all, we’re both members of the Hatake clan, huh?” You said under a soft laugh. Kakashi’s smile was there, but very faint. “I promise I will come back as fast as I can. I’m leaving you two in great hands, but please, take care.” He said while kissing the palms of your hands. You nodded and mumbled an “I love you!” to which he immediately responded.
He left Yamato and Pakkun at your house with strict orders. He promised you again that he would rush back the second the final paper was signed.
Kakashi had only been gone for a single day when the illness hit you.
It wasn't that sharp and agonizing pain of a contraction that you read about and were expecting. It was a wave of nauseating sickness that sent you collapsing onto the living room sofa. You were sweating, your vision was blurry, and your stomach felt completely wrong.
Too wrong.
Were you supposed to feel like this?
You assumed it was just the baby draining your chakra again, a severe repeat of your sixth-month symptoms that you thought had finally gone away by now.
Pakkun paced nervously around the rug. He kept whining, his wet nose twitching violently as he sniffed the air around you.
"Yamato!” you gasped out, pressing a cold hand to your forehead. "Please get Sakura. Tell her there’s something wrong with the baby.”
Yamato disappeared instantly. Less than ten minutes later, the front door burst open. Sakura rushed in with her medical bag, her face entirely focused and professional, but with a deep worry that she was trying to cover.
“Please lie back," she instructed gently. Her hands glowed with green chakra as she hovered them over your heavy stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the familiar relief of the medical ninjutsu to ease the nausea or work its magic to make you feel better.
But instead of relief, you felt a different pop.
A rush of warm fluid soaked completely through your clothes and onto the sofa cushions. The room went completely silent for what felt like hours, but everything went by faster than you could realize.
The moment you opened your eyes, you saw Sakura staring down at the couch. Her professional calm almost shattered into wide-eyed realization. "That is not a chakra drop," Sakura said. Her voice was breathless. "Your water just broke."
Pakkun let out a frantic bark. He finally smelled it. The sickness was not an illness. It was your body preparing for the inevitable. For the moment you waited patiently for 9 months.
It’s time.
"We need to move her to the room right now!" Sakura ordered. She immediately grabbed your arm to help you sit up, moving with practiced speed. "Yamato! Help me, but BE careful!"
"What about Kakashi?" you asked. Panic was finally clawing its way up your throat as a real, terrifying contraction seized your abdomen.
You were definitely NOT ready to do this on your own.
You needed your baby’s father.
You needed your man, your husband.
You needed your Kakashi.
Pakkun stood firmly by the front door. "I will handle the boss," the ninken growled. He barked sharply at Yamato. "Open the door!"
Yamato twisted the knob and threw the heavy wood open. Gai and Lee were standing right on the porch. They were holding massive baskets of raw vegetables and more suspicious supplement bottles. Sakura's head snapped toward the entrance. Her professional medical calm completely vanished.
"Are you two going crazy?!" Sakura yelled. "Didn't I already tell you to stop bringing this junk here?!"
Gai didn't even flinch at her yelling. His wide eyes locked onto you holding your stomach, trying to control your breathing, your face red and sweaty, and he instantly realized what was happening.
The memory of a quiet evening two months ago flashed through his mind.
It was your seventh month. Kakashi had visited the Memorial Stone long after the sun went down.
The air was getting thicker with the evening fog and the sound of the cicadas. Gai had known exactly where to find his rival and best friend.
“Kakashi,” Gai called out. His name was probably one of Gai’s favorite words. “I knew I’d find you here. How are the preparations for the arrival of the youth?”
Kakashi was standing completely still in front of the polished dark monument. His shoulders were slumped heavily. He looked completely stripped of his Hokage title. Standing there was no longer Lord 6th, but the man terrified of losing his entire world, now staring blindly at the carved names of his old comrades.
A minute went by. Kakashi took a deep breath, eye still focused on the stone in front of him.
"Gai," Kakashi spoke in a low tone. "I keep having nightmares about the Kyuubi attack."
Gai stopped walking and stood respectfully beside him. He knew exactly what that meant.
The Nine-Tailed Fox that destroyed the village years ago. Kushina had gone into labor, resulting in the tragic deaths of Kakashi's sensei and his wife.
"I am thinking about calling in the ANBU,” Kakashi admitted. He finally pulled his gaze away from Minato's name to look at Gai.
"I need a completely secure perimeter when the time comes," Kakashi continued. "I cannot afford to be late. I cannot lose them. She's getting sicker and sicker each day.” He spoke as if he already knew something could go wrong, or as if his duties wouldn’t allow him to be present when the time came. He needed to be prepared for whatever scenario would play out.
Gai had placed a reassuring hand on Kakashi's shoulder. He promised to be there when the storm finally hit.
The storm was officially here.
Gai snapped back to the present. He dropped his basket of vegetables right onto the wooden porch waisting no time. “LEE!!” Gai commanded with authority. "You will stay here and guard the area with your life!"
Lee saluted through his dramatic tears and gave Gai a thumbs up. "Yes, Gai sensei!"
Gai turned back toward the village. He struck a dramatic pose, his teeth literally sparkling. "The Power of Youth waits for no man!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Had you not been in labor, that would’ve made you laugh loudly. But oh boy, the pain was almost unbearable at this point.
He leapt into the air, moving faster than the eye could track. He rushed straight toward the ANBU headquarters to summon the squad. His booming voice echoed across the entire village. "The bloom of youth is ready to sprout!"
Pakkun watched Gai disappear. "I am going to get the boss,” Pakkun barked sharply. The small pug channeled a massive amount of chakra into all four paws. He launched himself off the porch and vanished into the trees.
A few minutes after Gai’s booming announcement, the air around the house shifted completely. A dozen masked ANBU operatives dropped silently from the trees. They landed on the roof, the porch, and the surrounding area.
Lee wiped his dramatic tears and dropped into a defensive stance right by the front door. The perimeter was entirely locked down. Only a complete fool would dare to try anything funny.
Inside, Sakura and Yamato didn't waste a single second. Yamato carefully helped you stand up and guided you to the room. Sakura was right behind you, making sure to support your back.
Yamato set you down gently on the bed. Then, he immediately stepped outside the door to stand guard in the hallway. You were finally alone with Sakura, but the true nightmare of labor was just beginning.
The pain was no longer just a dull ache. It felt like a heavy iron band was wrapping around your lower back. The invisible band tightened violently with every contraction. It completely crushed the air out of your lungs.
"Shiiiiiit...It hurts so much, Sakura!" you let out, completely lost in how bad the pain was.
"Breathe with me," Sakura commanded gently. Her hands glowed with soothing green chakra against your skin. "In through your nose. Out through your mouth."
You tried to follow her voice, but a blinding spike of agony made you scream instead. Your hands tangled desperately into the clean bedsheets.
"I’m nnnhg...it hurts. I’m never doing this again."
Your entire body was shaking uncontrollably. You were drenched in a cold sweat. The sheer pressure building in your lower abdomen was overwhelming. It felt like your body was tearing itself apart from the inside out to make room.
Miles away in the Land of Lightning, Kakashi stood in the marble hallway. The council was on a brief fifteen minute recess. Kakashi was leaning heavily against a stone pillar, rubbing his tired eye.
Can this be any more boring?
Shikamaru stood right beside him. The advisor was holding a stack of trade agreements and complaining about the Raikage's demands. Right then, Pakkun made his way through the hallway and jumped into Kakashi’s arms, panting heavily.
Shikamaru jumped back.
A tiny trail of blood seeped from the ninken’s paw pads from channeling too much chakra. "Boss," Pakkun wheezed out. He looked up at Kakashi with urgency. "She’s ready. It's time."
Kakashi didn't ask a single question. He didn't even go back inside the meeting room to excuse himself. "Shikamaru! Handle the rest of the summit," Kakashi ordered. His voice was completely deprived of emotion.
"Wait, WHAT?" was the only thing the Nara heir could say before Kakashi vanished in a crackle of blue lightning.
Kakashi pushed his body far beyond its physical limits. He tore across the lands, entirely blind to the scenery blurring past him. His lungs were burning. His chakra reserves were dropping dangerously low. He was using everything in his power to ensure he would make it. He needed to make it!
Please let me make it in time.
Please let me be there for them.
Panic.
Fear.
He finally crossed the gates of Konoha as the sun began to set. He didn't slow down. There was no way he would slow down, even if he had to drag his exhausted body to your shared house.
A silver blur crashed violently onto the front of the house. Three ANBU operatives reacted instantly. Kunai flashed in the dim evening light. They surrounded the intruder before he could make another move. A cold blade was pressed directly against Kakashi's throat.
Kakashi stared at the masked operatives. "Stand down," he said, trying to catch his breath. "It is me." The ANBU ninjas lowered their weapons and bowed their heads in apology.
Kakashi didn't care about the near-attack. Actually, a deep wave of relief washed over him. The squad had followed his orders perfectly. They were protecting you. He would properly thank them later, but right now, he was running out of time.
He pushed past Lee, who gently bowed his head, and threw the front door open. This is when he heard the agonizing scream that echoed from the back hallway. It made Kakashi's heart physically stop in his chest.
Panic.
Fear.
He sprinted down the corridor. Yamato got out of the way without hesitation. He threw the door to the room open.
The room was dim and suffocatingly hot. You were leaning back against the pillows, your face completely flushed and drenched in sweat. Sakura turned her head to look at the door.
"Kakashi sensei!" she exclaimed, and you looked up.
Kakashi dropped to his knees right beside the mattress. The heavy fabric of his Hokage cloak pooled on the floor. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier," he said under his breath, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.
You looked at him amidst your pain, grabbing some of the strength you barely had left, and touched his face with your hand. "My love, you are right on time."
You are right on time.
On time.
Kakashi had made it!
He grabbed your hand with both of his. His calloused fingers intertwined tightly with yours. The blurry image of his silver hair grounding you.
"I am right here," Kakashi whispered. He pressed his masked mouth against your knuckles. "I am not going anywhere. I am right here, my baby."
“Okay! You know it’s time so I need you to push!" Sakura yelled firmly.
Another contraction seized your body with terrifying force. The involuntary urge to bear down consumed you entirely. It was overpowering. Kakashi removed the hair stuck to your face and pushed it back. His attention was completely locked on you.
"Here comes another one. PUSH!" Sakura instructed again.
You gripped Kakashi's hand hard enough to break a normal man's bones. You squeezed your eyes shut and pushed with every single ounce of strength you had left. Sakura lifted her green eyes to look at you. They held a very serious look.
"Listen! The next one is THE one. She’s almost out, so I need you to give me your all, okay?"
Tears were now falling down your face, mixing with the sweat. You took a deep breath and nodded. It was now or never.
Kakashi tightened his grip around the hand that was holding his. A sign that he was ready whenever you were.
"Right! This is it. PUUUUUUUSH!”
And you did, like your life depended on it. Because it did. Because now, you were responsible for another life too, and you would bear the weight of any pain to make that little life feel nothing but love.
A strange sense of relief flooded your lower half. The crushing pressure finally broke. The room, once filled with your screams, was now full of hope and happiness. Then, it came.
A cry.
Your baby’s cry.
The cry of Kakashi's baby girl.
He let out a shaky breath. His eye immediately filled again with unblinking tears.
Sakura smiled. She carefully wrapped the tiny baby in a soft white cloth. She stepped forward and gently placed your daughter directly onto your chest. "Congratulations, it’s a healthy and pretty girl!"
Kakashi leaned forward until his forehead rested against your damp hair. He looked down at the perfect face of his child.
He reached out with a trembling finger and softly stroked her warm cheek. The terrifying nightmares of his past finally went quiet. He had successfully fulfilled his first duty as a father: being there from the beginning.
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Readers also liked: [NEJI] After you, I won't seek love again, because if I do, I'll be searching for pieces of you in everyone | 💌 Masterlist | Have a request? Drop it here!
🎀 DO NOT repost, modify, or feed my content to AI. All rights to the original writing and plots belong to me! | Divider by the myth, the legend @cafekitsune
Fratjo breaks up with you and instantly regrets it - series
The first time Satoru Gojo realizes he made a mistake is when he can’t find you on campus.
At first he thinks it’s funny.
You’ve always been easy to find. The west library corner seat by the window. The campus café at 10:30 with a vanilla latte and that same notebook you pretend isn’t a diary.
But after the breakup?
You vanish.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Your Instagram, phone number, Snapchat — blocked.
He stares at his phone in the Alpha Tau living room while music blasts around him and someone hands him another drink.
Blocked.
“Damn,” one of the guys laughs. “She actually did it.”
Gojo scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “I’ll get her back,” he says cockily.
Like he’s not the one who said it. I need to focus on football.
The lie sounded convincing at the time. The scouts were watching. His coach kept yelling about discipline. Everyone said relationships were a distraction.
So he broke up with you.
Clean and quick.
Two weeks later, he’s drunk at three different frat parties, shamefully sneaking out of sorority house hookups before the sun even rises.
And somehow that’s when he realizes something feels wrong.
———-
The First Attempt
He tries texting.
It doesn’t go through. Still blocked.
He laughs to himself. “Dramatic much.”
But that night he still walks across campus toward the all-girl dorms.
Except the front desk girl just shrugs. “She’s not here.”
Gojo frowns, “What do you mean she’s not here?”
“Means she’s not here.”
He stands outside the dorm building for ten minutes before leaving.
The next day he tries again. Still no sight of you.
Flowers
A week later a bouquet arrives at your dorm. White lilies and baby’s breath.
Attached card: —SG <3
He doesn’t even know if you like lilies. You used to talk about flowers sometimes, but he never listened carefully enough to remember, and now he regrets it.
The desk girl tells him later you picked them up without saying a word.
Still no message back.
The Letters
Then the letters start. The handwritten notes made him feel romantic, he was sure this would get a response out of you.
The first one is simple.
I know you blocked me. I deserve it.
Let me know if you wanna talk
-Satoru <3
No response.
The second one is longer.
I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you. I thought I was doing the responsible thing.
Please unblock me xoxo
The third one is messy.
He writes it at 2 AM after a party he left early because some girl laughed too loud in a way that sounded a little too much like you.
I keep looking for you around campus.
You used to sit by the west library window. I checked yesterday. You weren’t there. Are you avoiding me?
- Toru
Your Favorite Snacks
The dorm desk starts receiving packages. Your favorite chocolate. Spicy chips.
Strawberry gummies you always bought from the vending machine during late-night study sessions.
Deliveries of your favourite bubble tea.
The desk girl starts recognizing his name. “Another one from the football guy. I told him you weren’t here again like you asked.”
Meanwhile
Gojo’s reputation doesn’t change. He’s still the star player. Still the loud one at parties. Still the guy everyone thinks has everything.
But lately he keeps checking doorways. Scanning crowds at football games. Looking for someone who isn’t there.
The First Time He Sees You Again
It’s raining. He’s leaving practice when he spots you across the quad under a blue umbrella.
For a second he thinks he imagined it.
But then you look up. And your eyes meet his.
The look on your face isn’t anger. It’s worse.
It’s indifference.
You turn and keep walking. Gojo’s heart drops straight into his stomach. He can’t let you escape after all this time of chasing you.
“Hey—!”
You stop slowly. You look over your shoulder. “…What?” Your voice is calm.
Gojo suddenly forgets every speech he rehearsed. “I—did you get the letters?”
“Yes.”
“…And?…will you please talk to me?”
You stare at him for a long moment “Goodnight, Gojo.”
Then you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the rain, watching you disappear.
݁.𖥔 Tags: smut with at least a little plot, established relationship, p in v, rough sex, oral (both receiving), light sub/dom, praising kink, bondage, edging, orgasm denial, aftercare; the duality of Gojo Satoru
credits for the fanart: @_3aem on twitter
A/N: Based on this request. (˶˃⤙˂˶) 7.2 k words
Satoru’s speed of light was a necessity in urgent times. Condensing the space between where he is right now (finishing an annoying mission at the other part of the city) and his target (you) was really much needed. That doesn’t mean he abuses his power if his real desire is to come home to his love that probably waited for him these past days.
What digs his grave deeper is that he said it will take no time. Poof, and he’s home. He even bragged about it a little. But how could he leave his lovely kids all alone with no supervision? What if they need him? They are juniors in jujutsu's world. The fact he did go here and there to show them some places around the beaches in Kings Chiba was not a big deal. It was a first for them! It’s not like he reaaally wanted to go. It was just his idea!
But… But. Satoru’s inner voices announced to him faintly that you hadn't replied to his texts for a while, yet he brushed it off. It's not like there's a chance his lover might be very irritated right now.
He didn’t knock; he just opened the front door of your home, lightly like his steps, until they guided him instantly upstairs at no sight of you. Satoru ruffled his hair and stretched his body as we walked through the hallway; not a thought was in his mind besides that he could really need a shower. As he slowly opened your rooms' doors, he reached inside.
You must be really tired, as you didn’t even sense him. He liked to joke before about how you could never be one step ahead of him here, but now? He didn’t even try that much. In fact, he wanted to see you. Awake.
He raised an eyebrow at the way you slept, on your side, pillow barely covering your almost bare body that messed a little with his head, yet your phone was in your grip. Hm. So you saw his messages. He decides to go wash himself, coming later to bed when you were already way too far from him, almost hugging the wall.
Satoru was completely unaware that you faked being, much too annoyed at him, even though you’re glad he is finally back.
You moved your hand smoothly, coordinated despite the agitating noise in your mind. The breakfast was simple, sweet just how he enjoyed it. Not like you did it intentionally. You only gave Satoru a side glance when he came into the kitchen, enough to see him yawn, stretching his arms above his head, enough to catch a glimpse of his waist. Annoying.
“Oh, no chocolate?”
His mouth twitched at the glare you sent over your shoulder as he approached you from behind. Satoru’s hand settled on your waist, giving you a peck on the cheek. You didn’t budge. The pancakes were more worthy of your attention, spreading maple syrup over them and the berries sprawled on top.
Your voice was robotic, a passive-aggressive tone melded into it.
“I thought we said we would try to eat healthier.”
He clicked his tongue, a silent complaint that carried no real weight, more teasing than anything. But somehow, Satoru was more composed than usual, murmuring a quiet “Okay” before he gave you another peck and returned to the table.
As clueless as Satoru might seem, he could feel a pressure hanging over him, yet he decided to brush it off for now. His attention focused on the phone, smiling at some pictures Yuuji sent him. He looked up at you when you placed the plate in front of him and he noticed you taking a glance at what he was watching.
“Thank you, baby. Want to see them?”
You cut him off as you sat down on the chair across from him.
“How was the mission?” He blinked when he heard the slight sharpness in your tone. You looked at him seriously, even as the sound of forks only mixed with the tension. “Was it hard for them?”
He gestured with a hand, smiling faintly.
“No, it was pretty easy.” He turned around in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as he rolled the pancake with his fingers(like a freak), taking a bite before speaking again. “No special grade curses. Ah, you really should’ve seen Yuuji throwing—“
“A week spent on grade 4 curses?”
It was the second time Satoru got cut off, but he didn’t mind. He only raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it was an infestation at the hospital. Both of them.”
“Both?”
“Yes. Two hospitals next to each other. The second one contained the actual source of curses.”
You hummed, swallowing your words. Still not excusable. The chair scraped against the floor as you rose to your feet to dump the plate, not wanting to wash it because it meant staying here longer with him.
On the other hand, Satoru sized you up, the teacher clothes really suited you, making your curves more accentuated, appealing to his lovely blue eyes.
You caught him when you turned around, almost making him embarrassed by the way you looked at him, like he wasn’t allowed.
“Already going? Do you want me to drive you to Jujutsu High?” You walked towards the exit door of your apartment as he lifted his hand, trying to brush against your, to catch you, anything. Where was his goodbye kiss?
“I saw you had fun with the kids at the beach.”
“It was fun. Maybe we can go soon? Hm?”
“Bye, Satoru.”
The door handle clicked shut, not so gently, leaving Satoru dumbfounded.
Sooo… someone’s mad.
***
It’s not a common occurrence to go without him at school. Because he is late most of the time, not because you avoid people seeing you together. A few words of dissent might have been uttered by the higher-up at first, but Satoru dismissed your worries. He said their inability to act beyond mere complaints, given their own exploitation of him, while he retained the freedom to pursue his own aims with his title. And you hate them anyway.
It’s not a common occurrence for him to be all over your place when you worked, following you in classes or anything. Maybe before you got together. He had an evil desire to tease you, calling it "courting." And now you feel like you were right in the beginning.
Just now, sitting in a small window to drink the second coffee with Shoko in a relaxing corner, near her working place since your office it's next to her, was distrupted by your not-so lovely boyfriend.
"Hello, hello. Might if I join?"
Shoko observed as you sighed, turning your ergonomic chair to focus on the papers ahead for the next lesson. As highly skilled as she is as a doctor, the primary physician for Jujutsu High School, Shoko was your first help when you joined the school. You were teaching her methods to young generations that might be their followers, or at least be educated in this area.
Shoko checked her hand clock, puffing out the smoke in the room. The air purifier might come in handy, but by the way Shoko smokes at least 1 pack a day, it still made Satou wave the polluted air with his hand.
"Shouldn't you be in the class?"
"Should I? Maybe." He gave his friend his usually carefree grin as he came behind you, giving both of your shoulders a little squeeze, massaging the knots, the contraction of your tired muscles that indeed needed relief, but now they tensed further as he was the one touching you. He bent down, tilting his head until his face was next to you, watching your focused, serious look as you scribbled some points you needed to explain soon. "But more important is to see what my lovely partner is doing, right?"
Shoko flicked the cigarette in the ashtray, her elbow sitting lazily near it on her desk. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, not like she cares about what's other business, but more like curiosity to see why her friend purposely ignores Satoru. She understands, anyway.
"You can see now." You murmur, giving him a short glance, not letting your eyes linger on his, black sunglasses sitting lower on the nose so it was hard to avoid the galaxies in his eyes.
"I'm always impressed by how much effort you put into these lessons. Really, you deserve a promotion."
"Shoko deserves one first."
Shoko snorted, shaking her head slightly as she spoke. "Yeah, like they will ever do promotions."
He was too damn close, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face, making your skin prickle in return.
"Nothing I couldn't resolve."
In moments like this, Satoru will wait for a retort back, rolling your eyes, anything. But the only thing he could see was the weight of your grip on your pen, ink pressing on the sheet, eyes not meeting his, body unmovable, basically just accepting his presence. He straightened his body, biting his lip before he made eye contact with Shoko, who gave him a funny, small look, telling him, ‘You fucked up, huh?’. He shoved his hand in his pants pockets, watching your back as he spoke.
"Okay, okay. Someone is busy. I get the message. I'll wait for you after school, yes?" At the lack of an answer, Satoru spoke again as he opened the door for him to leave. "Yes, [Name]?"
"Yeah." You gestured with your hand, not turning around. "Good luck with…whatever you're doing. Bye."
"Mhm. Bye, baby."
You could feel Shoko's stare on you as you mumble under your breath.
"Don't ask."
***
Satoru was a man of his words, when he wanted to.
As you left the school, not even taking a step outside of it, a car's tires lost traction, causing a screeched sound to trouble your ears. The door opened automatically, giving you a free show of your lover sitting there—arm resting on the edge of the car window while he propped his head against his knuckles, the other arm was lazily over the black wheel. His black glasses still on, the irritating grin still on his face.
"Right on time."
"Mhm."
You come on his left, to the empty seat, even though your intrusive thoughts suggest you go in the back, treating it like a normal taxi drive, but that's too petty.
Speaking on the back seat, Satoru turned his body dramatically. "Oh, right." His long hand was searching for something until he found it. A bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."
Ajisai flowers. The most iconic apology flowers in Japan. Rooted in a historical folktale where an emperor gifted them to a maiden to apologise for neglecting her.
You glanced at them, then at him as he gave you a soft smile, like the flower choice wasn't intentional.
Everything is intentional with Satoru.
"Thank you, Satoru. They are beautiful." You smiled back only with your eyes, but it was enough for him. But then, you added. "Especially this kind of flower."
Satoru starts driving, his hand moving smoothly. He gave you a short glance, pretending to be sooo focused on the drive.
"Yes? They suited you."
"Yes? Should I also buy Nemophila ones? They match your eyes."
Nemophilia, or "baby blue eyes", flowers symbolise the sentiment of "I forgive you."
He chuckled, and you felt more annoyed as he completely dodgedthe subtle remark. "To give me flowers? I'm not sure, baby. Never received before."
You took your eyes away from him, deciding to focus more on the window and the passing cars; it was easier to control the situation.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to give you anytime soon."
Sometimes, he likes to open the door for you manually, running to your door like a gentleman would do, but today, as he wanted to press the button, you stopped him mid-air.
"Don't need to."
You missed his puzzled expression as he looked at you getting out of the car while you already started walking towards your shared house. Since his money wasn't ever a problem, the house wasn't small either. And now, it overwhelmed you, wanting only to go inside, take a bath and do anything that didn't include him. He almost ran, more like jogging towards you until he opened the front door for you.
For once, Satoru was silent. He barely heard your murmured "Thank you", as you didn't even look at him. You dropped your clothing on the coat rack, your shoes came off, and you were out.
He should talk, shouldn't he? He dropped himself over the couch, looking at the ceiling and almost laughed at himself. His love is upstairs, ignoring him, and here he is, forced to face his feelings. He almost feels like a teenager. A sudden thought entangled him. What will his old friend say? He will probably know how to resolve this. He always did… before.
Anyway, Satoru rewinds the last week, even scrolls through the messages. The universe even decided to help him a little with some random thoughts passing through his mind and old flashbacks of your fight with him before he joined a mission. It was a dangerous one. You didn't even like him that time. Or you did? Now he needs to know. Maybe he was clueless back there and he missed the subtle signs. But he remembers you told him something along the lines of "Call us. At least to let us know you're good." As he brushed your fear off. He's the strongest, did you forget? “Please, Satoru. Don't act so arrogant. It doesn't help!" At the second line, Satoru looked at you a second too long under his white bandages that hide his eyes, before nodding to you slowly.
You hate not knowing his whereabouts. It's not really personal, is it? More like, you fear your closest one can disappear all of the sudden. In fact, he realises he is not so much different from you. Besides that, in the morning you said something about the beach he went to. You didn't speak about things like this randomly. It might mean something.
Satoru sighed, raising himself from the couch. Less talk, more action. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you coming down the stairs in your pyjamas, wearing a satin nightgown over it, probably coming right from the bath. Beautiful, he thought. Still, how long did he stay here on the couch?
"I wanted to buy some takeout. Your favourite?"
Your back was to him, taking a glass to fill with water from the cabinet above your head. He almost hissed as your shorts raised a little, more skin visible to his eyes. You caught him as he did so; your late response wasn't minded since Satoru's mind was somewhere else entirely for a moment.
"Not hungry. Maybe later."
He watched you go again to the stairs. Your firm steps played with his heart, at least a little. Every step was in tandem with his pulse.
"[Name]."
This really shouldn't take too long.
On your side, your thoughts were anything but calm. Did I do too much? You missed him, probably as much as he missed you. You're sure he realised something is off by the time he came home and you didn't hug or kiss him, not at night, not in the morning, not all day. But he wouldn't learn if you'll accept anything.
You hate doing games like this. You know he cares about you. Damn, sometimes you're surprised by how affectionate Satoru can be. Yet, when he refuses to be serious when you need him to, a fear takes root inside of you. Should you cut the roots? Sure. Easy to say. You said you were not hungry. You were. Well, more hungry for something else entirely.
You hate it when he looks at you like this. Like he wants you right here and here. Even before, you knew something restless sat behind those blue eyes when he looked at you. Maybe he wasn't even aware of it. You hate it when he craves your touch because it makes you crave it too. It's not even about sex, but the desire to be close to each other, two souls apart that can't resist much without each other. But you're still annoyed by him. By leaving for no reason for so much time. He should've at least told you, not treating you like a common friend he usually speaks with, not minding giving any personal details.
Well, he did share pictures every time with him. Or the kids. Or with a random cat, dog, or any animal he found. Or every place he visited.
You sighed, staring at the ceiling until you heard the bathroom door. Your pulse ticked every time you heard a step of him from the corridor. Shit, he is coming here.
You rise from the bed, already up when he enters the door and sees you preparing for the next day at school, making your bag and choosing your clothes. Satoru sized you up, seeing the slight tremble in your body.
That's it.
You felt his presence closer and closer until your breath stilled.
Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, the other finding a place on your waist. As you felt it, the impulse to turn around to escape his intoxicating heat stilled, just like ghe air in you lungs when he whispered against your ear, tilting his head in doing so.
“Can I know why my baby ignored me all day?” He sensed you wanted to move, not giving you a chance when his arms, which just sent goosebumps over your arm until now, came on top of your belly, pushing you against him. “Should I drag the answer myself?”
Your voice wavered, an opening for him.
"I—I don’t want to talk.”
He hummed against your ear, his face buried in your neck. “You don’t want to?" He left faint kisses here and here, enough for your skin to heat. “Then can I make you talk?” You place your hand over his on your belly, intent on escaping his grip as your pulse accelerates, blurring your senses and your anger. “Hmm? You know…I can't take it anymore.”
He let you go from his warm embrace as you turned around, having a much clearer look at how your chest rises and how your eyes glimmer with passion as he barely could take your glare seriously.
“I’m mad at you.” You stepped back as he stepped closer until your legs hit the bed. “You can’t come to me and do whatever you want.”
Satoru’s palm wraps around your pointed finger, gently for now. But his look was anything but gentle.
“Whatever I want?” He looked down at you, his face inches apart while one of his hands cupped your chin and the other was on your hip, gripping tight enough to immobilize you. “But the way you look at me seems to say something else.” His thumb comes to spread your lip, making your mouth open as you did almost unconsciously. His own mouth twitched as you responded to his touch, coming closer to brush his lips against yours. When he straightened, letting you all panting while he distanced himself, you swore you wanted to strangle him and he chuckled. “Or am I wrong?”
Satoru’s eyes lingered on you until his gaze rested on the lingerie you chose; the bra barely showed, hidden, but he knew what it was. His patience was on edge, realizing that even if he might upset you genuinely and for that is sorry, all this attitude was hiding another thing too. You want him. You missed him. But it will not be easy. Still, Satoru definitely knows how to handle you.
“You are.”
Satoru’s smile widened at your answer, letting the distance between you two fade again as he glanced first at your eyes, then at your lips. He whispered against them.
“Yeah?” You only nod, unsure of your voice to speak again as your mouth parted slightly before he brushed his lips over yours, breath faltering. Then, he did it again one more time.
When you didn’t stop him, Satoru stole your glance once before he finally kissed you, one hand cupping your cheek, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, the other one placed behind, on your head, to guide you closer, much closer than you expected. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from not responding back, triggered by the small, pleased sound he gave you.
Satoru’s lips left you, leaving you breathless, a mess—and dizzy from how much his taste affected you. His eyes were so intense, you could say they were the ones making you lower yourself until you sat on the bed, not his hands that were placed on your shoulders.
When he lowered himself until his knees hit the floor, a switch inside of him flipped. He gripped you by the thighs, dragging you all of a sudden as your back met the mattress, legs now around his body.
“Satoru, what are you—“
“Shh. Now you lost the chance to complain.” Your shorts come off in an instant, hardly giving you time to react, before he parts your legs. “Not like you didn’t want exactly that.”
You raise on your elbows, hair all over your face as you try to blow it off.
“I didn’t.”
You gasped when his hands started wandering between your inner thighs, making them shiver from anticipation. He glanced at the wet spot over your white panties, matching the hidden bra, before he looked up at you. Your flustered expression, trying to act innocent, was all in vain for Satoru’s six eyes.
He comes over to you then, only kneeling next to your body. One of his hands is placed next to your head in support as the second one starts brushing your skin, from the top to the bottom of your body, in a teasing manner. He comes back over your breast, squeezing both of them by turns over the clothes. He drags from the middle of the blouse down roughly—now the white bra is on full display. Your cheek burned as you avoided his gaze and looked mindlessly in the other direction. And if you matched them, what?
His big palm comes under your breast to let them breathe over the bra, playing with your nub before he comes to lick around it in slow flicks of his lips. What you did was a mistake when you looked down at him, as he was already watching you, a twinkle of roguishness in his blue eyes. He palmed the other breast and switched to do the same treatment as you start moaning without meaning to. You refused to give him that so freely.
Satoru lifts himself, looking at how sexy you look as ravished as right now—hair sprawled all over, swollen breast out of your bra, legs apart with a full view on your wet panties.
He missed you too.
Satoru’s hand comes between your legs, hovering over your waistline and teasing the tensed muscle here. “And you tell me my favorite match on you wasn’t on purpose.”
“You catch it fast.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t miss the sarcasm in your tone, nor did he notice you biting your lip in distress, curious of what he might do. It’s not happening often, but it did happen to see this side of Satoru before, especially when you two fight.
In fact, the first time you had sex with him was like this.
When the tips of his fingers start rubbing over your clit, you realize you already lost it, two fingers set above your needy spot, while his thumb played with it.
“Do you want it?” Your moans escaped from your mouth as he set the panties aside, touching your skin directly; his long fingers leave trails between your folds, gathering more wetness to rub your clit faster. “Tell me.”
He was mean in his touches, alternating between giving you fast, circled motions, applying more pressure, the way you love it when you’re wet enough, and slow, faint ones that keep you wanting more. “Do you want me?”
“You’re so arrogant.” Your eyes closed, eyes scrunching in pleasure. “D-Did I told you that before?”
What was more surprising was that his voice turned deeper and hoarser as he watched you so intensely, the playful glint disappearing for now. As scary as he was in fights, Satoru had a singular purpose right now that you’re afraid to find out.
In a smooth manner, he lowered himself until he was again in his initial position, between your legs, and your hands came instantly to his head when his mouth found your pussy, sucking around your trembling clit, flicking his tongue around it, and slurping all the wetness you gave him. You gasped loudly when he slapped you here for touching his hair, watching you as he did so.
“Satoru!” You looked surprised at him as he teased your clit with his fingers one more time before he rose to his feet. You understood instantly when his hands came to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t you dare—“
His knees hit the bed as he came over to you. His gaze didn’t leave yours, taking both of your hands above your head.
“Satoru!”
The metal clicked, and your hands were now tied as you tried to budge it. When he whispered against your lips, his teasing glint returned for a moment.
“Much better.”
“Oh, you’re done. You’re so…” Satoru was already between your legs, continuing to eat you again. "…f-fucking done.”
He gripped you tight, squeezing in surrender around his head as his mouth devoured you how he wanted, how he needed, not caring about every twitch of your muscles while his face was buried here. You had no hope but to keep up with his slurps and licks while your moans turned worse.
“God—Don’t stop…”
At your appreciative words, he slowed his moves and you whined, before his fingers switched places to play with your clit instead.
“Tell me.”
“Why did you s… Tell you w-what?”
“What I asked before.” His finger circled slowly, dragging it down only to come again and again until it finds your pussy, teasing your entrance. "Or do you already forget?”
His tone seemed neutral, but you could see on his face he was intentionally teasing, like he wanted you to pay off for the attitude.
“Fuck y—“ You moaned as he slipped his fingers inside your pussy, slowly to stretch you at first until he pumped it faster.
“Be careful, live. This night can be much longer for you if you’re not.”
Satoru comes over to you, his body warm and overwhelming, the scent driving you more mad than you already were. He swallowed your moans, kissing you as you barely responded when he added another finger, pumping roughly and hitting your g-spot without a break until you reminded him of your beautiful screams. His smile returned for a second, watching you struggle against the belt as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes.
“So how's it going to be?”
You nod desperately; your body moves frenziedly against his touch.
“I want you. I want you, Satoru—"
"Mhm." His pumps turned faster, pleased by your finally giving what he wanted.
“I'm gonna, I’m g-gonna—" Your mouth parted, ready to feel that sweet edge, building as the second passed; your voice hitched, realizing way too late how Satoru slowed his movements, feeling how the spark never came as your eyes fluttered, his fingers slipping in and out slowly until they stopped.
“Satoru, you’re such an—“ He swallowed your word, "asshole," turning it into a moan when he kissed you.
“Not so fast.” He was serious; his expression didn’t soften, watching you—no, devouring you whole like he was bewitched. His hands took yours, placing it above your head as he claimed your lips again, letting your short-winded murmurs barely slip against his mouth.
“I’m going to make you regret this.”
Satoru hummed, his hair tickling your cheek as he moved, finding a place for his tongue on your neck, marking wet kisses or bites, you didn’t know, along your sensitive skin.
“Yes? You don’t want me to make you cum?”
You couldn’t even touch him; only your thighs lifted, finding a place around his waist, feeling how hard he is against your soaked panties, enough to make your mind gamble with it.
“Hmm?” His mouth twitched at the lack of answer, pecking your lips one more time before he threw the blouse over his head, (not) forcing your eyes to linger on his toned muscles.
“Untie me.”
His mouth twitches as his hands come to undress the lower part of himself, letting only in his shorts. Satoru felt his dick twitch at your hungry gaze, lingering on the wet spot forming around his leaking tip. His shorts were too tight and you were watching it like you felt sorry for him.
"I want to touch you. It's not fair at all—"
He chuckled, coming where he was before, the same as his hand finding its place between your trembling legs and your needy clit. You followed every move of him, pleading with your eyes to not mess with you again.
You grasp the belt, twisting your wrist and gripping it, muscles tensing instantly when his fingers find your clit again, not giving you time like before. You were already stretched enough to take his rough thrusts. Satoru’s palm was toward your clit, slapping the skin, a wet, embarrassing noise, like he did it on purpose. You closed your eyes, whining about how good you felt, but he didn't have it.
“Aw, you’re embarrassed? “His thumb comes over your clit, pressing it gently as he starts circling around. "But she talks so sweet to me." Your blabbering sounds were so irritating to yourself, like you couldn't even speak coherently anymore, only focusing on the sweet, harsh sensations of his fingers hitting your g-spot on and on.
Your eyes open at a particular thrust, making eye contact, since he was already looking at every reaction you gave him.
“Don’t hide.”
Satoru lowered his face, mouth parted as yours, heavy breath falling from it.
"Only you. Only you can make me feel like this—
He groaned, claiming your lips in a second, his tongue slipping inside, kissing you so desperately, so messily, as his fingers find an overwhelming rhythm, bringing you back where you were.
"Show me." He let you breathe; your body started convulsing under him as you watched him through half-lidded eyes when you came, before he found your lips while you ride your orgasm. He didn’t stopped neither when he unclasped your hands swiftly, letting the belt fall somewhere on the floor.
When he looked at you again, Satoru could see the slight uncomfortable expression, giving a peck on both wrists before he helped you put your hands over his back and shoulders. But they didn't stay here too much; when his hands started wandering, palming your breast and touching your curves, yours did too, coming between your bodies, palming his hard dick until he moaned into your mouth.
When he lifted himself, Satoru followed your lead still in his way when you moved, coming on your hands and knees closer to him. His hand rested on your head, guiding you.
"Come here."
You nudged his dick softly with your nose, kissing the wet spot there. He helped you, dragging his shorts down until his dick jumped slightly, resting on your mouth. Your tongue comes out, making sure you look up at him to drive him mad as you let him slap it on your tongue. When you smiled, Satoru knew you're not so different from him.
Your tongue swirl around his tip, letting a long wet string to the base before you take in your mouth. Satoru’s grip on your hair tightened a little when you swallowed his dick in, sucking him for all it costs until you let him hit the back of your throat, urge him to while his hips thrust in return.
“F-Fuck. You’re so beautiful, baby.” Satoru’s grip loosening, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, massaging your head.
He slipped out of your mouth slowly as you gave him a peck on his pretty tip. His hand comes to cup your chin, tilting your head to meet him in the middle while he kisses you, romantic even. The other one comes to guide you to sit on his level, both of you in the middle of the bed, on your knees. He comes to cup your cheek instead, tilting your head to the side so he can deepen the kiss, not letting your breath.
His wandering hand caressed your body, cupping your breast, until he slowly pinched your sensitive nubs, teasing you to moan more against his mouth. Then, it lowered until it was on your puffy clit, playing with it just to spread more wetness around, until he found your hole again. Your hands come over his shoulder, riding the air as you meet his rhythm as he finds you.
You breathe out against his mouth, impatient.
“Satoru…”
“Yes?”
He nibbled your lip, giving you slow pecks, like he barely could stop himself.
“I want to feel you, baby. You don’t want to feel me?”
He slipped his fingers from your pussy, spreading the wetness around his own dick, making you gasp needily. Satoru took your hand and placed his over yours as he guided you to stroke him. “I don’t want?" What do you think?” You could feel him getting harder if that was even possible, going to massage his painfully full balls too, moistening them as his breath faltered as he whispered, his blue eyes hypnotizing you. “Hm?”
Your back meets the bed as you part your legs for him, but he turns you around in a second. “What are you—“ His hands come to move your hips, raising your ass while pressing a hand over your back until your face is pressed on the bed. "Satoru—" Slap. “Fuck!” Slap. Satoru massaged your now red ass, squeezing the sensitive skin for her.
“Shh.” He chuckled at how you move your hips, chasing him, and how you stopped when his dick finally made contact with your pussy, sliding his dick between your folds.
You turned your head more to look at him, and he made sure to maintain your craving, loving gaze when he started filling you. “Baby, fuck. Please, relax a bit.” Satoru closed his eyes, hissing, eyebrows furrowed in concentration while your tight walls tortured his dick.
“More, more—“ Be damn sure he wants it too. Hell, he planned to fuck you until you couldn't breathe, but when he finally fucking felt you, Satoru actually took his time. He lowered himself over you, thrusting inside slowly.
“Yeah? How much?”
You whined, trying to meet his hips, but you had no chance as he gave you a deep thrust, making you almost incapable of speaking between your moans. “S-So much! Baby, please—“!
He took your arms and moved them on your back, his hands placed on both of your wrists as he started fucking you deeper, rougher. “As much as m-me?” Hell. There’s no chance for him to last longer. Every wet noise your pussy made by how he filled you so good, so punishing after, left you with no thoughts besides how good it felt. He groaned, taking a pause, slipping out as he turned you around.
By the fucked-up look on your face, Satory was the one to part your legs before you felt him skin on skin. “So pretty.” His murmur went unnoticed. At least, your legs come over his hips, hugging his lower part, or more like, chasing his dick back, missing him filling your pussy. And he gives it to you, thrusting inside as fast as he slips off, compensating for the seconds he lets your pussy empty.
Satoru didn’t let you take your eyes off him, his rough thrust waking you over and over as your voice catches, only his grunts and the shortened air at every sweet thrust.
“Please, baby.” His lips brushed against yours, coming so close that his body moved against yours, your clit grinding against his skin. “Cum in me, Satoru. I’m so close—you give him a short kiss between your begging. “S-So close!”
Satoru’s head was buried into your neck, and your face was barely seen over his shoulder, your sweet screaming muffled by the skin. Your pussy squeezed against his veiny dick, creaming him with your own orgasm while chanting his name. He groaned in pleasure, filthy curses were whispered into your ear, accentuated by how harder his dick started pounding into you, shaking the bed until he filled you completely, deep inside your pussy while his dick stilled.
Satoru collapsed over you, his entire body pressing down, bringing you closer than ever as he remained inside your warm walls. His face rested against the crook of your neck, kissing, nibbling nearing your jawline and melting your heavy, racing heart.
"Satoru…I can't breathe.”
He snorted while he put oressure in his palms, on both side of your head, slipping off slowly from inside your pussy as you let out a small whimper, squeezing around him like you want him here as he twitched inside of you. He glanced shortly with a warily look, a gaze that didn't need words to say "You can't take it again." He slipped off, your sweet, mixed cum make it glistening around his swollen tip after he broke your poor insides.
He dropped next to you, sharing a breathless laugh with you as you looked at each other, completely drawn off. It sure was a much-needed sex. A good, mind-blowing one. His arm rising instinctively for you to come hug his chest, resting your head here.
It didn't take long for him to complain as you spoke first, the reality still setting in slowly.
"I feel so dirty."
He looked down at you, then, tilting his head slightly to see how messy the bed looked, his head hit the bed dramatically.
"We need to wash, don't we?" A perfect moment to use it to his advantage. "Can we teleport in the bathroom?"
"Don't even try."
Satoru smiled. He held your gaze, searching over your face until he could see the hidden vulnerability in here, the aftermath fading by seconds; serotonin slowly turned into something else, the clear mind after the orgasm was flooding you with feelings you reprimanded before this. All of this.
Now, it's the moment Satoru has no choice but to speak. He's not sure why he feels this weight on his heart; his tongue feels heavy as he starts speaking.
“[Name].”
You can hear in his tone the concern. He's aware that he doesn't take accountability for this, even if it's not the worst thing happening; future things will add eventually, making you distance yourself until maybe you'll get tired of his antics and—
He spoke again, pushed by the thoughts, he just blocked it, knowing a familiar spiraling will come if he does not do it now. Satoru's back of his hand brushed your cheeks as you glanced shortly at him.
“I’ll run a bath for you, and we…will talk. "His mouth twitches. "If you’re not too tired for that.” He kissed between the space of your furrowed eyebrows, washing away the threatening look as he started placing kisses all over your face. “Muah." You gripped his arm that cupped your cheeks for him to kiss you better, letting out a soft giggle. "I already know why you might be mad."
You didn't sound ill-intended, mostly teasing.
“Of course you do. That’s why you are an asshole.”
Satoru placed his hand over his chest.
“Auch. Deserved.”
You placed your hand over his, above his pumping heart.
“I prefer to at least tell me you’ll take long for whatever reason. Even if it’s a stupid one and I will need to wait for you more.”
He nodded, acknowledging too fast, like he enjoyed the way the conversation started; his anxiety dissipated, his fear of vulnerability too.
“I can do that.”
“Of course you can and you will.”
He chuckled, tilting his forehead until it brushed against yours for a second, before he let out a relieved sigh.
“Do you want to see the pictures now?”
You rolled your eyes, and Satoru realized he missed it.
“No.”
And you realized you missed his irritating grin too, now present on his face.
“Why?”
“You said we were going to go here in the future, but you already decided to see it without me.”
“Oh, man…” He breathed out a laugh, but the pout that followed on your face made him give you a peck to make it go away. "What I want to say is that I’ll go with you everywhere.”
You pointed your finger on his chest, poking as you speak.
“But it didn’t cross your mind what you told me when you go.”
He licked his lips, taking your words in.
“Right.” He glanced up, looking at the mindless spot as his voice turned more serious. "You know how I am, yes? From the beginning, you know. I…might or might not fuck so things in the future, not intending to.”
“Okay? And I should accept—“
He glanced back at you, cutting you off.
“But I want you to know I want you in every stage of my life too. Firstly, you. Then the others.”
You analyzed every small reaction from him as he said it; then his thoughts hit harder than expected, realizing that's what you wanted to hear. You could see his eyes widening a bit at the emotions in them, taking his eyes off as he tried to disperse the tension. “And we could go see every place in the whole world, okay? You need to keep up with me.”
But you want him a little bit more in the present with you.
“Satoru…” He swallowed, taking two seconds until he met your gaze. As he glanced at your lips, he sensed what would follow; his heartbeat violently spiked.
“I love you.”
He is sure that's not a lie, but he needed more time to fully accept that; that's why he took a moment to say something, anything, not fully aware of your own fearful feelings. He exhales hard, closing his eyes to gain a bit of strength as he speaks; at the same time, he opens them.
“I love you too.”
You gave him a small reassurance glance. Not that it was the first time you shared these 3 words. Also, he's more courageous through texts. But this was different, somehow gluing the bond between you two stronger. He came to the side, hugging you as you gripped him tight, following each other's rhythm of breath.
Until, slowly, mischievously, Satoru's hand comes under your ass, the other one comes behind your head. It was clear you had no time to react.
hai haiii ♥︎_♥︎ congrats on your masters!!!! im devouring ur naruto fics, u write them so good especially kakashi..
could I request headcanons of naruto men (shino, naruto, kakashi, sasuke and u pick others if u want) and fem reader when she's pmsing pls? thanks 🌞
How they deal with you during your luteal/PMS phase | Shikamaru, Might Guy, Kiba, Kakashi, Shino, Naruto, Sasuke & Itachi
.✦ ݁˖ Proofread: Ngl, kinda! Warnings: AFAB!reader, fluffy & domestic (some of 'em), mild profanity, mildly suggestive (Kiba, duh!), and some humor to lighten the mood. Shino's section contains mentions of insects. Readers are free to scroll past if these specific character interpretations or themes do not align with their comfort levels.
A/n: Thank YOUUU, sweet nonnie! I really appreciate it <3 I'm also happy you enjoy my AUs. I've been writing your request for a few days now, sorry it took so long! Malina helped me with the Kiba part, otherwise I'd have to put an MDNI here 😭 Also debuting Shino (and Guy) in my headcanons. Look who's also getting confident writing the Uchihas 😝 (I did consider making the reader and Naruto cry, but it was funnier in my head, tho)
Tag list: @ichxraaa | @itachispetrock | Tag list is OPEN for all AUs, please comment or DM me so I can add you to whatever you want to be tagged in <3
Enjoy! 🤍
Shikamaru
The violent thwack of the kitchen knife against the cutting board was the only thing tethering you to sanity. The summer heat pressing through the open windows at Shikamaru's house was unbearable enough on its own, but the vicious cramps radiating through your pelvis made the air feel too thick to breathe.
Your humor had been a shitty one since yesterday, and now your whole body ached and the cramps were almost eating you alive. Your PMS symptoms couldn't have started at a worse time.
You chopped another carrot, your knuckles white, the sound a little too sharp, a little too loud. You poured your frustration into the blade, pretending that if you struck hard enough, you might miraculously sever the ache right along with the vegetables.
Your hormones were a frayed wire, leaving you feeling like a raw nerve exposed to the open air. Behind you, the soft slide of the shoji screen signaled your boyfriend's arrival.
"Are you trying to intimidate dinner into cooking itself, or can I safely confiscate that?" Shikamaru teased, his voice with that familiar laziness that instantly made your jaw clench.
Really not the time, Shikamaru!
You slammed the knife down and gripped the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain ripped through your lower abdomen. Your feelings were now too intense, even for your own liking, and you were so not about to start a fight with him or end up crying over whatever it was that you were feeling.
You knew exactly how his mind worked; he avoided volatile emotions, so you fully expected him to turn his lazy feet right back around to avoid your hormonal wreckage.
"I'm fine, Shikamaru. Just let me cook," you snapped, though your voice quivered entirely too much to be convincing.
"Yeah, you look perfectly fine," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with dry sarcasm. He stepped right up behind you, his chest pressing lightly against your back as he removed the weapon from your tight grip.
"You're a terrifying woman when your uterus is angry, and I'd rather not bleed out in my own kitchen." You sighed and allowed him to move your body away from the counter.
Twelve agonizingly slow steps. That was exactly how long it took him to guide your exhausted body out of the stifling heat and into the cool shaded sanctuary of the living room.
He guided your sore body down, maneuvering you carefully until you were lying on your side atop a plush zabuton cushion, your back pressed securely against his folded legs.
His fingers found the exact base of your spine. His thumbs kneaded deeply into the aching lumbar muscles, applying a heavy pressure that instantly softened the tension right out of your pissed nervous system.
You let out a shaky whimper, the pain slowly draining out of you. "Aren't you supposed to be complaining about how troublesome I am?"
"You are troublesome. But you're my trouble," he replied with a lazyish smile. "And if I let you keep cooking, we'd be eating pulverized carrots. Close your eyes. I'm ordering takeout."
You went completely pliable against his legs as his thumbs continued their heavy, rhythmic pressure along your spine. "Thank you, Shikamaru," you huffed, your eyelids growing heavy.
He didn't say anything too sentimental back. Shikamaru was not a grand monologue type of guy, but he was always there for you, no matter the situation. He stretched his right arm, grabbing a woven fan from the low table to cool the sticky summer air around you.
"Yeah. I got you, baby," was the last thing he breathed before you drifted into a well-deserved nap.
Might Guy
Hiding in the darkness of your bedroom closet seemed like a brilliant plan until your spine locked up against the fluffy mat on the hardwood floor. But you refused to move as the unbearable ache radiating through your abdomen made the thought of uncurling your legs sound like absolute torture.
You buried your face deeper into the thick wool of your oversized sweater, praying the shadows would swallow you whole before he returned.
Too late.
You heard the front door open. It was followed by the relentlessly cheerful voice that usually made your heart flutter, but today simply made you wince.
Might Guy tracked your cycle with the exact same dedication he applied to his eight-gates training. He kept a very detailed color-coded calendar taped to the inside of the bathroom cabinet. He knew exactly what week it was. And worse, he knew exactly what was recommended for the pain.
He had read about it in a wellness magazine and immediately consulted Tsunade to confirm the method's validity. Her simple "yes" was all it took for him to draft an entire dynamic stretch plan specifically for your cycle.
"My beautiful lotus!" his voice echoed down the hallway, the floorboards literally shaking under his enthusiastic strides. "It is time to embrace the healing power of the dynamic stretch!"
You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut.
Please don't find me here. Please, please...
Guy could find you in any crowd, anywhere, at any moment. So when the closet door swung open, flooding your dark sanctuary with blinding afternoon light, you were not entirely surprised.
He stood in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips. His signature gleaming smile softened the second his dark eyes locked onto your miserable form.
His large hand encircled your ankle securely. He eased you out of the closet with a smooth continuous pull, completely ignoring your pathetic whine of protest.
"I am NOT doing yoga, Guy," you croaked. "Let me die in the dark."
"Nonsense!" he declared, though his volume was noticeably dialed down to a rumbling baritone.
He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling your body against his bulky chest. "The Springtime of Youth does not surrender to uterine distress! But," he paused, pressing a kiss to your temple, "it does allow for negotiation."
He carried you to the center of the tatami mat and laid you down lovingly.
"Negotiation?"
"Three modified stretches," he bargained. "Ten minutes of deep breathing to open your chakra pathways." He leaned in closer to finish his proposal. "And in return, I will personally carry you to the onsen and feed you sweet dumplings until you fall asleep in my arms."
"Can we do sweet dumplings first and then hot springs?" you asked with pleading puppy eyes.
"You got yourself a deal, my lotus!" He chanted, helping you stand up straight so you could begin your stretching session.
Kiba
The ruthless ache anchored deep in your pelvis made simply existing feel like an impossible task; your head ached so bad it felt like it was about to explode. You traded your jeans for sweatpants after you came home from work, and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, waiting for the painkillers to finally kick in. You tossed and turned against the sheets, desperate for any kind of release from the discomfort.
You didn't hear the front door open, only the faint click of your bedroom door that barely registered over the hammering in your head. What gave him away was the sudden shift in the air, a clear trace of petrichor and pine creeping into the room.
Kiba leaned lazily against the doorframe, his wolf-like eyes raking over your messy form. A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, you look so hot. Is all that for me?"
What was wrong with men and their weird habit of finding you hot on your absolute worst days? I'm in literal sweatpants.
You didn't even have the energy to glare at him properly. "Kiba, please, not today," you grunted, burying your feverish face into your hands. "This is not the time nor the place."
A low puff of amusement escaped him. He pushed off the wood, crossing the room with padded steps.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he murmured. "I could smell your hormones dropping from a mile away, duh."
You let out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl into a miserable little ball. "Then let me suffer in peace. Bye."
You didn't even get the chance to fully roll away. The mattress dipped heavily behind you, his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you in place as his broad chest pressed closer against your spine.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tongue dragging a slick line against your skin. The sharp inhale he took and the soft heat of his mouth sent a comforting wave straight down your back.
"Well," he teased, his voice dropping into a rough but incredibly suggestive beat. "I know a few ways to ease the ache."
He shifted closer, his warmth acting as the perfect human heating pad against your lower back, but the friction of his hips pressing into you told a slightly different story.
"Besides," his teeth nipped against your pulse point, his feral edge completely melting into an intoxicating devotion. "This drop in your scent always drives me insane."
You finally turned to face him, staring right into his eyes. You batted your eyelashes, your defenses crumbling as he leaned in closer and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.
His left hand slid down your back, his fingers massaging firmly against your lower spine. The heavy pressure relieved the tension for a second, pulling a relieved sigh from your throat.
"Hmm, Kiba. That feels so much better," you breathed, leaning your weight completely into his hold.
"I know, baby. I gotcha," was the only thing he managed to mutter before pressing his forehead against yours. He then dropped his face to your collarbone, biting gently at the sensitive skin. He pulled the thick blanket over both of you, entwining his legs with yours so you were surrounded by his heat.
"Gosh, your body heat is literally magic," you cooed, the cramps finally starting to ease under his touch.
"See? Even when you want to kick me out, your body literally can't resist me, huh? C'mere, let me show you another way to make the pain go away."
Kakashi
Staring at merchant trade maps for six hours straight was exhausting on a good day, but doing it while your uterus felt like a literal war zone was pure torture. You had fought tooth and nail for the Village Liaison position at the Hokage's tower, but the physical toll of your cycle had entirely eclipsed any sign of your ambition today.
You had spent the entire morning trying to hide the gnawing waves of cramps that kept pulling you out of your focus, and you thought you were hiding it well enough from the rest of the tower staff, but you could never hide it from Kakashi.
He was in the building quite often most days, reviewing mission reports or tending to the Hokage’s endless requests. Lately, he had been using those tasks as a thinly veiled excuse to loiter in your workspace, casually claiming the lavender armchair in the corner as his official spot, and turning the pages of his crude orange book while you deciphered trade manifests in total silence. Except today, that silence felt heavy, charged with the weight of his unblinking attention.
He didn't stare, of course, that would be too obvious even for him, but he was a man who noticed everything. He watched the pained flicker of your eyelids when you stood up to reach a high shelf, and how you pressed your lips into a thin line every time you sank back into your chair.
He recognized the subtle signs of physical distress a little too well.
It wasn’t until he looked away from his book to check on you that he finally understood the real reason behind it. When you pulled a small blister pack of pills from your bag, his eye caught the label in a split second, the pieces clicking together right before him.
Oh, so you were feeling that kind of pain.
Now, back in the comfort of your own place after a dreadful day at the office, you groaned, trying to find a proper position in your bed. You pulled the thick duvet completely over your head as another crushing contraction tore through your abdomen and legs.
The weight of the afternoon dragged on until a knock at your front door finally broke the silence.
"Who is it?"
“Hey. It's me," came Kakashi's muffled, lazy drawl.
You dragged yourself out of bed, opening the door just a crack. He stood there in his standard casual clothes, holding a stack of trade route maps you had intentionally left behind at the archives.
"You left these on the desk," he lied effortlessly, because he knew you didn’t have any plans on bringing work home. A quick brow pinch of genuine concern betrayed his casual posture the second he saw how pale your face was.
"Thanks, Kakashi, but honestly... not today. I clocked out thirty minutes ago," you mumbled, leaning your head against the doorframe, far too exhausted to deal with office talk, or any talk for that matter.
“I see… It’s fine. Why don’t you go get some rest? I'll just leave these on the kitchen island.” His eye curved into a softened gaze as he blatantly ignored your dismissal, slipping right past you and into your apartment. You were in too much pain to argue.
“Right. Just don’t… mind the mess, please,” you sighed in defeat, promptly retreating back to the dark sanctuary of your bedroom.
When you finally woke up from a two-hour nap, the simmering coil in your stomach had dulled to a manageable ache, so you decided to stand up and at least tidy up what you could. But the moment you shuffled out into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.
It wasn't deep-cleaned, but the piles and piles of stray papers were organized. The coffee mug you’d left out was rinsed alongside the small pile of dirty dishes from the night before, and the heart-warming smell of a covered bowl of fresh Okayu drifted from the stove.
Sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to a glass of water and a blister pack of the exact same painkillers he had seen you taking, was his worn, overfamiliar orange book. A small sticky note was slapped onto the cover, his characteristically messy handwriting scribbled hastily across the paper.
“Hopefully this helps you laugh a bit through the pain :) It usually works for me. I’ll come by later. — K”
Shino
You were the type who treated physical ailments like a personal challenge. While most people would immediately reach for a bottle of pain relievers, you preferred to raw dog your way through it.
Every. Single. Time.
Today, however, the twisting cramps in your lower abdomen were testing all limits of your resolve.
You were curled tightly on the edge of the living room rug, your jaw locked as you forcefully tried to focus on the scroll in your lap. A vicious spike of pain tore through your core again, pulling a small gasp from your throat.
Shino had been observing you from the other side of the room for the last ten minutes. His dark glasses completely concealed his eyes, but his (hyper) focused posture gave him away. He noticed your shallow breathing and the way your knuckles turned stark white against the parchment every second, and at this point, he'd had enough.
He knew your stubbornness intimately, he knew you way too well, aware that if he offered a soothing cup of medicinal tea or suggested you lie down, your knee-jerk reaction would be to wave him off.
So, he simply bypassed the argument at once.
His ghost-like footsteps barely registered before he dropped onto the floor right behind you. His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his solid chest, his soothing touch already consuming you.
"Shino, I'm fine," you grunted, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
"You are not! Why? Because your body language suggests otherwise." His deep voice was a rumble against your spine. "And you do not have to prove your endurance to me."
He didn't give you the chance to argue. His hands found their way under your sweater and moved to rest directly over your stomach. The hum of his chakra resonated against your skin as he quietly ordered his kikaichu to disperse across your abdomen, completely hidden beneath the fabric layers.
A flowing heat bloomed across your skin. It was far more effective than anything you could’ve tried, melting into your muscles and making you relax instantly. The relief was so jarring that a heavy sigh ripped its way out of your chest, making your hardheaded posture completely dissolve as your head fell back onto his shoulder.
"Better," he wooed, his thumb gently stroking the skin near your waistband.
"Sneaky," you breathed through a small chuckle, closing your eyes to relax under his touch.
"Efficiency requires a silent approach," he cooed, adjusting his high-collared coat to completely envelop you in his warmth.
Naruto
“Shiiit,” you cursed as you dropped the laundry basket. The loud clatter of plastic spilling clothes echoed against the hardwood as you sank down right beside it, completely winded. The pain in your lower back finally peaked into an overpowering cramp.
The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thump.
"I'm HOOOOOME—" Naruto's happy voice rang through the apartment, cutting off into a gasp as he saw you on the floor. He took in the scattered laundry and your trembling form curled on the floor, tension gripping his jaw.
He dropped his takeout bags and crossed the distance in a millisecond, dropping to his knees with panic in his eyes. "Who did this? Are we under attack? What happened?“ he babbled.
His hands hovered over your body like he was terrified he might break you, inspecting you for any signs of injuries.
"Naruto," you croaked, taking a deep breath, "It's just my cycle."
He blinked.
The trepidation fully drained from his face, replaced by pure relief.
"Oh. Oh." He let out a nervous laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Okay. Yeah, yeah, I totally knew that."
He scooped you right off the floor, pulling your frame flush against his chest.
His body ran notoriously hot, so the immediate friction of his skin against yours acted like a giant human heating pad against your cramping muscles.
"I brought Ichiraku for you," he coaxed, carrying you toward the bedroom. He deposited you carefully onto the mattress, pulling the blanket right up to your chin.
"Don't move, I'll be right back."
He sprinted back down the hall to retrieve the abandoned takeout and returned with the brown bags, crawling in beside you to share his body heat once again.
"We are getting you comfortable, and I am feeding you noodles until you feel better," his voice losing its goofy edge and settling into something more tender, more caring.
You didn't even have the energy to say you weren't really hungry as he unpacked the takeout containers directly onto the bed. He blew on a cluster of noodles to cool them down for you, completely determined to heal your pain with pork broth and his unadulterated love.
Sasuke
You were staring at the glass jar on the kitchen counter with burning rage. What should have been a minor inconvenience had quickly escalated into a wave of hormonal fury.
The metal lid refused to budge, your hands shaking as you twisted it again, the friction burning your skin.
“Why won’t you open, you little—”
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, silently watching you wage war against the inanimate object. It was almost funny.
Almost.
But he knew any wrong move would result in that havoc being projected somewhere else, or worse, onto someone else. He was smarter than that; he would not volunteer as a tribute to this impending massacre happening in the kitchen of your shared house.
When you finally slammed the jar down and let out a frustrated sob, he pushed off the wood. He knew your cycle made your emotions swing out of control, way more than you even admitted most of the time, turning the smallest obstacles into total tragedies.
He stepped into the room, closing the distance between you. Reaching past your shoulder, he took the glass from your grip, gave it a single twist, and the lid popped open.
“Thank you, Sasuke…” You could barely look at him. “It's stupid," you choked out, wiping the tears of frustration spilling over your lashes. "I'm just so mad for no reason."
Sasuke set the jar aside and took you in his gaze. He didn't offer a logical solution or tell you to calm down, because he knew that would only make the situation infinitely worse. Instead, he turned you around and pulled you tight against his body.
"I know," he hushed, his fingers tangling into your hair to gently press your face into the crook of his neck.
You gripped his shirt, letting the irrational anger and frustration evaporate. He steadied you right there in the middle of the kitchen, swaying you slightly to calm you down in the ways he knew best.
"Take your time," he breathed against your temple, his reassuring presence absorbing every ounce of your oscillating mood.
Itachi
You had spent the last twenty minutes reorganizing the books and scrolls on Itachi's bookshelf. His diligent nature usually made this a calming task for you, and you took pride in helping him, but today, you were desperate to burn off the stifling wave of hormonal anxiety clawing at your chest.
Every little thing felt too intense.
The binding of a heavy medical text refused to sit properly against the others, and the minor inconvenience actually made your eyes burn with frustrated tears.
“Why can’t you stay put—” you hissed, forcefully shoving the book into place.
"The categorizations are color-coded, yet you have placed anatomy in the center of the summoning section."
You jumped violently, and your shoulder slammed hard into the edge of the wooden shelf.
“Oh, fuck,” you hissed, instinctively grabbing your collarbone as the stinging pain radiated down your arm.
The room fell dead silent.
Itachi was standing in the doorway. You hadn't even sensed his presence until now, but his dark eyes were already analyzing the tense line of your spine.
"Are you alright?”
"I'm fine." You swallowed hard, turning around and forcing a counterfeit smile. "It's just my shoulder. I’m… doing some rearranging."
He didn't even blink.
He stepped fully into the room, his presence crowding out your messy energy. "I did not take you for the kind that would ever lie," he observed, stopping just a breath away from you. "Especially to me."
The gentle chastise completely dissolved your defenses. Your fake smile faded while your hands dropped uselessly to your sides, the exhaustion of your mood swing finally showing.
“Sorry, ‘tachi. I guess my body is just being difficult," you whispered, feeling ridiculous in front of him. "I'm overwhelmed for absolutely no reason.”
He reached out, his long fingers catching your wrist to guide you away from the shelf. With all the care in the world, he gathered you into his arms, wrapping you in a cocoon of his radiating warmth and safety.
"You do not need a reason to seek comfort,” he cooed, his chin coming to rest gently on the crown of your head.
You surrendered instantly, burying your face in the soft cotton of his black yukata. His hand settled firmly between your shoulder blades, his thumb mapping a slow circle to anchor your racing thoughts. He was content to just stand there and hold you together until the storm in your mind and body passed.
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hai haiii ♥︎_♥︎ congrats on your masters!!!! im devouring ur naruto fics, u write them so good especially kakashi..
could I request headcanons of naruto men (shino, naruto, kakashi, sasuke and u pick others if u want) and fem reader when she's pmsing pls? thanks 🌞
How they deal with you during your luteal/PMS phase | Shikamaru, Might Guy, Kiba, Kakashi, Shino, Naruto, Sasuke & Itachi
.✦ ݁˖ Proofread: Ngl, kinda! Warnings: AFAB!reader, fluffy & domestic (some of 'em), mild profanity, mildly suggestive (Kiba, duh!), and some humor to lighten the mood. Shino's section contains mentions of insects. Readers are free to scroll past if these specific character interpretations or themes do not align with their comfort levels.
A/n: Thank YOUUU, sweet nonnie! I really appreciate it <3 I'm also happy you enjoy my AUs. I've been writing your request for a few days now, sorry it took so long! Malina helped me with the Kiba part, otherwise I'd have to put an MDNI here 😭 Also debuting Shino (and Guy) in my headcanons. Look who's also getting confident writing the Uchihas 😝 (I did consider making the reader and Naruto cry, but it was funnier in my head, tho)
Tag list: @ichxraaa | @itachispetrock | Tag list is OPEN for all AUs, please comment or DM me so I can add you to whatever you want to be tagged in <3
Enjoy! 🤍
Shikamaru
The violent thwack of the kitchen knife against the cutting board was the only thing tethering you to sanity. The summer heat pressing through the open windows at Shikamaru's house was unbearable enough on its own, but the vicious cramps radiating through your pelvis made the air feel too thick to breathe.
Your humor had been a shitty one since yesterday, and now your whole body ached and the cramps were almost eating you alive. Your PMS symptoms couldn't have started at a worse time.
You chopped another carrot, your knuckles white, the sound a little too sharp, a little too loud. You poured your frustration into the blade, pretending that if you struck hard enough, you might miraculously sever the ache right along with the vegetables.
Your hormones were a frayed wire, leaving you feeling like a raw nerve exposed to the open air. Behind you, the soft slide of the shoji screen signaled your boyfriend's arrival.
"Are you trying to intimidate dinner into cooking itself, or can I safely confiscate that?" Shikamaru teased, his voice with that familiar laziness that instantly made your jaw clench.
Really not the time, Shikamaru!
You slammed the knife down and gripped the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain ripped through your lower abdomen. Your feelings were now too intense, even for your own liking, and you were so not about to start a fight with him or end up crying over whatever it was that you were feeling.
You knew exactly how his mind worked; he avoided volatile emotions, so you fully expected him to turn his lazy feet right back around to avoid your hormonal wreckage.
"I'm fine, Shikamaru. Just let me cook," you snapped, though your voice quivered entirely too much to be convincing.
"Yeah, you look perfectly fine," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with dry sarcasm. He stepped right up behind you, his chest pressing lightly against your back as he removed the weapon from your tight grip.
"You're a terrifying woman when your uterus is angry, and I'd rather not bleed out in my own kitchen." You sighed and allowed him to move your body away from the counter.
Twelve agonizingly slow steps. That was exactly how long it took him to guide your exhausted body out of the stifling heat and into the cool shaded sanctuary of the living room.
He guided your sore body down, maneuvering you carefully until you were lying on your side atop a plush zabuton cushion, your back pressed securely against his folded legs.
His fingers found the exact base of your spine. His thumbs kneaded deeply into the aching lumbar muscles, applying a heavy pressure that instantly softened the tension right out of your pissed nervous system.
You let out a shaky whimper, the pain slowly draining out of you. "Aren't you supposed to be complaining about how troublesome I am?"
"You are troublesome. But you're my trouble," he replied with a lazyish smile. "And if I let you keep cooking, we'd be eating pulverized carrots. Close your eyes. I'm ordering takeout."
You went completely pliable against his legs as his thumbs continued their heavy, rhythmic pressure along your spine. "Thank you, Shikamaru," you huffed, your eyelids growing heavy.
He didn't say anything too sentimental back. Shikamaru was not a grand monologue type of guy, but he was always there for you, no matter the situation. He stretched his right arm, grabbing a woven fan from the low table to cool the sticky summer air around you.
"Yeah. I got you, baby," was the last thing he breathed before you drifted into a well-deserved nap.
Might Guy
Hiding in the darkness of your bedroom closet seemed like a brilliant plan until your spine locked up against the fluffy mat on the hardwood floor. But you refused to move as the unbearable ache radiating through your abdomen made the thought of uncurling your legs sound like absolute torture.
You buried your face deeper into the thick wool of your oversized sweater, praying the shadows would swallow you whole before he returned.
Too late.
You heard the front door open. It was followed by the relentlessly cheerful voice that usually made your heart flutter, but today simply made you wince.
Might Guy tracked your cycle with the exact same dedication he applied to his eight-gates training. He kept a very detailed color-coded calendar taped to the inside of the bathroom cabinet. He knew exactly what week it was. And worse, he knew exactly what was recommended for the pain.
He had read about it in a wellness magazine and immediately consulted Tsunade to confirm the method's validity. Her simple "yes" was all it took for him to draft an entire dynamic stretch plan specifically for your cycle.
"My beautiful lotus!" his voice echoed down the hallway, the floorboards literally shaking under his enthusiastic strides. "It is time to embrace the healing power of the dynamic stretch!"
You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut.
Please don't find me here. Please, please...
Guy could find you in any crowd, anywhere, at any moment. So when the closet door swung open, flooding your dark sanctuary with blinding afternoon light, you were not entirely surprised.
He stood in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips. His signature gleaming smile softened the second his dark eyes locked onto your miserable form.
His large hand encircled your ankle securely. He eased you out of the closet with a smooth continuous pull, completely ignoring your pathetic whine of protest.
"I am NOT doing yoga, Guy," you croaked. "Let me die in the dark."
"Nonsense!" he declared, though his volume was noticeably dialed down to a rumbling baritone.
He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling your body against his bulky chest. "The Springtime of Youth does not surrender to uterine distress! But," he paused, pressing a kiss to your temple, "it does allow for negotiation."
He carried you to the center of the tatami mat and laid you down lovingly.
"Negotiation?"
"Three modified stretches," he bargained. "Ten minutes of deep breathing to open your chakra pathways." He leaned in closer to finish his proposal. "And in return, I will personally carry you to the onsen and feed you sweet dumplings until you fall asleep in my arms."
"Can we do sweet dumplings first and then hot springs?" you asked with pleading puppy eyes.
"You got yourself a deal, my lotus!" He chanted, helping you stand up straight so you could begin your stretching session.
Kiba
The ruthless ache anchored deep in your pelvis made simply existing feel like an impossible task; your head ached so bad it felt like it was about to explode. You traded your jeans for sweatpants after you came home from work, and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, waiting for the painkillers to finally kick in. You tossed and turned against the sheets, desperate for any kind of release from the discomfort.
You didn't hear the front door open, only the faint click of your bedroom door that barely registered over the hammering in your head. What gave him away was the sudden shift in the air, a clear trace of petrichor and pine creeping into the room.
Kiba leaned lazily against the doorframe, his wolf-like eyes raking over your messy form. A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, you look so hot. Is all that for me?"
What was wrong with men and their weird habit of finding you hot on your absolute worst days? I'm in literal sweatpants.
You didn't even have the energy to glare at him properly. "Kiba, please, not today," you grunted, burying your feverish face into your hands. "This is not the time nor the place."
A low puff of amusement escaped him. He pushed off the wood, crossing the room with padded steps.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he murmured. "I could smell your hormones dropping from a mile away, duh."
You let out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl into a miserable little ball. "Then let me suffer in peace. Bye."
You didn't even get the chance to fully roll away. The mattress dipped heavily behind you, his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you in place as his broad chest pressed closer against your spine.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tongue dragging a slick line against your skin. The sharp inhale he took and the soft heat of his mouth sent a comforting wave straight down your back.
"Well," he teased, his voice dropping into a rough but incredibly suggestive beat. "I know a few ways to ease the ache."
He shifted closer, his warmth acting as the perfect human heating pad against your lower back, but the friction of his hips pressing into you told a slightly different story.
"Besides," his teeth nipped against your pulse point, his feral edge completely melting into an intoxicating devotion. "This drop in your scent always drives me insane."
You finally turned to face him, staring right into his eyes. You batted your eyelashes, your defenses crumbling as he leaned in closer and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.
His left hand slid down your back, his fingers massaging firmly against your lower spine. The heavy pressure relieved the tension for a second, pulling a relieved sigh from your throat.
"Hmm, Kiba. That feels so much better," you breathed, leaning your weight completely into his hold.
"I know, baby. I gotcha," was the only thing he managed to mutter before pressing his forehead against yours. He then dropped his face to your collarbone, biting gently at the sensitive skin. He pulled the thick blanket over both of you, entwining his legs with yours so you were surrounded by his heat.
"Gosh, your body heat is literally magic," you cooed, the cramps finally starting to ease under his touch.
"See? Even when you want to kick me out, your body literally can't resist me, huh? C'mere, let me show you another way to make the pain go away."
Kakashi
Staring at merchant trade maps for six hours straight was exhausting on a good day, but doing it while your uterus felt like a literal war zone was pure torture. You had fought tooth and nail for the Village Liaison position at the Hokage's tower, but the physical toll of your cycle had entirely eclipsed any sign of your ambition today.
You had spent the entire morning trying to hide the gnawing waves of cramps that kept pulling you out of your focus, and you thought you were hiding it well enough from the rest of the tower staff, but you could never hide it from Kakashi.
He was in the building quite often most days, reviewing mission reports or tending to the Hokage’s endless requests. Lately, he had been using those tasks as a thinly veiled excuse to loiter in your workspace, casually claiming the lavender armchair in the corner as his official spot, and turning the pages of his crude orange book while you deciphered trade manifests in total silence. Except today, that silence felt heavy, charged with the weight of his unblinking attention.
He didn't stare, of course, that would be too obvious even for him, but he was a man who noticed everything. He watched the pained flicker of your eyelids when you stood up to reach a high shelf, and how you pressed your lips into a thin line every time you sank back into your chair.
He recognized the subtle signs of physical distress a little too well.
It wasn’t until he looked away from his book to check on you that he finally understood the real reason behind it. When you pulled a small blister pack of pills from your bag, his eye caught the label in a split second, the pieces clicking together right before him.
Oh, so you were feeling that kind of pain.
Now, back in the comfort of your own place after a dreadful day at the office, you groaned, trying to find a proper position in your bed. You pulled the thick duvet completely over your head as another crushing contraction tore through your abdomen and legs.
The weight of the afternoon dragged on until a knock at your front door finally broke the silence.
"Who is it?"
“Hey. It's me," came Kakashi's muffled, lazy drawl.
You dragged yourself out of bed, opening the door just a crack. He stood there in his standard casual clothes, holding a stack of trade route maps you had intentionally left behind at the archives.
"You left these on the desk," he lied effortlessly, because he knew you didn’t have any plans on bringing work home. A quick brow pinch of genuine concern betrayed his casual posture the second he saw how pale your face was.
"Thanks, Kakashi, but honestly... not today. I clocked out thirty minutes ago," you mumbled, leaning your head against the doorframe, far too exhausted to deal with office talk, or any talk for that matter.
“I see… It’s fine. Why don’t you go get some rest? I'll just leave these on the kitchen island.” His eye curved into a softened gaze as he blatantly ignored your dismissal, slipping right past you and into your apartment. You were in too much pain to argue.
“Right. Just don’t… mind the mess, please,” you sighed in defeat, promptly retreating back to the dark sanctuary of your bedroom.
When you finally woke up from a two-hour nap, the simmering coil in your stomach had dulled to a manageable ache, so you decided to stand up and at least tidy up what you could. But the moment you shuffled out into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.
It wasn't deep-cleaned, but the piles and piles of stray papers were organized. The coffee mug you’d left out was rinsed alongside the small pile of dirty dishes from the night before, and the heart-warming smell of a covered bowl of fresh Okayu drifted from the stove.
Sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to a glass of water and a blister pack of the exact same painkillers he had seen you taking, was his worn, overfamiliar orange book. A small sticky note was slapped onto the cover, his characteristically messy handwriting scribbled hastily across the paper.
“Hopefully this helps you laugh a bit through the pain :) It usually works for me. I’ll come by later. — K”
Shino
You were the type who treated physical ailments like a personal challenge. While most people would immediately reach for a bottle of pain relievers, you preferred to raw dog your way through it.
Every. Single. Time.
Today, however, the twisting cramps in your lower abdomen were testing all limits of your resolve.
You were curled tightly on the edge of the living room rug, your jaw locked as you forcefully tried to focus on the scroll in your lap. A vicious spike of pain tore through your core again, pulling a small gasp from your throat.
Shino had been observing you from the other side of the room for the last ten minutes. His dark glasses completely concealed his eyes, but his (hyper) focused posture gave him away. He noticed your shallow breathing and the way your knuckles turned stark white against the parchment every second, and at this point, he'd had enough.
He knew your stubbornness intimately, he knew you way too well, aware that if he offered a soothing cup of medicinal tea or suggested you lie down, your knee-jerk reaction would be to wave him off.
So, he simply bypassed the argument at once.
His ghost-like footsteps barely registered before he dropped onto the floor right behind you. His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his solid chest, his soothing touch already consuming you.
"Shino, I'm fine," you grunted, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
"You are not! Why? Because your body language suggests otherwise." His deep voice was a rumble against your spine. "And you do not have to prove your endurance to me."
He didn't give you the chance to argue. His hands found their way under your sweater and moved to rest directly over your stomach. The hum of his chakra resonated against your skin as he quietly ordered his kikaichu to disperse across your abdomen, completely hidden beneath the fabric layers.
A flowing heat bloomed across your skin. It was far more effective than anything you could’ve tried, melting into your muscles and making you relax instantly. The relief was so jarring that a heavy sigh ripped its way out of your chest, making your hardheaded posture completely dissolve as your head fell back onto his shoulder.
"Better," he wooed, his thumb gently stroking the skin near your waistband.
"Sneaky," you breathed through a small chuckle, closing your eyes to relax under his touch.
"Efficiency requires a silent approach," he cooed, adjusting his high-collared coat to completely envelop you in his warmth.
Naruto
“Shiiit,” you cursed as you dropped the laundry basket. The loud clatter of plastic spilling clothes echoed against the hardwood as you sank down right beside it, completely winded. The pain in your lower back finally peaked into an overpowering cramp.
The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thump.
"I'm HOOOOOME—" Naruto's happy voice rang through the apartment, cutting off into a gasp as he saw you on the floor. He took in the scattered laundry and your trembling form curled on the floor, tension gripping his jaw.
He dropped his takeout bags and crossed the distance in a millisecond, dropping to his knees with panic in his eyes. "Who did this? Are we under attack? What happened?“ he babbled.
His hands hovered over your body like he was terrified he might break you, inspecting you for any signs of injuries.
"Naruto," you croaked, taking a deep breath, "It's just my cycle."
He blinked.
The trepidation fully drained from his face, replaced by pure relief.
"Oh. Oh." He let out a nervous laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Okay. Yeah, yeah, I totally knew that."
He scooped you right off the floor, pulling your frame flush against his chest.
His body ran notoriously hot, so the immediate friction of his skin against yours acted like a giant human heating pad against your cramping muscles.
"I brought Ichiraku for you," he coaxed, carrying you toward the bedroom. He deposited you carefully onto the mattress, pulling the blanket right up to your chin.
"Don't move, I'll be right back."
He sprinted back down the hall to retrieve the abandoned takeout and returned with the brown bags, crawling in beside you to share his body heat once again.
"We are getting you comfortable, and I am feeding you noodles until you feel better," his voice losing its goofy edge and settling into something more tender, more caring.
You didn't even have the energy to say you weren't really hungry as he unpacked the takeout containers directly onto the bed. He blew on a cluster of noodles to cool them down for you, completely determined to heal your pain with pork broth and his unadulterated love.
Sasuke
You were staring at the glass jar on the kitchen counter with burning rage. What should have been a minor inconvenience had quickly escalated into a wave of hormonal fury.
The metal lid refused to budge, your hands shaking as you twisted it again, the friction burning your skin.
“Why won’t you open, you little—”
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, silently watching you wage war against the inanimate object. It was almost funny.
Almost.
But he knew any wrong move would result in that havoc being projected somewhere else, or worse, onto someone else. He was smarter than that; he would not volunteer as a tribute to this impending massacre happening in the kitchen of your shared house.
When you finally slammed the jar down and let out a frustrated sob, he pushed off the wood. He knew your cycle made your emotions swing out of control, way more than you even admitted most of the time, turning the smallest obstacles into total tragedies.
He stepped into the room, closing the distance between you. Reaching past your shoulder, he took the glass from your grip, gave it a single twist, and the lid popped open.
“Thank you, Sasuke…” You could barely look at him. “It's stupid," you choked out, wiping the tears of frustration spilling over your lashes. "I'm just so mad for no reason."
Sasuke set the jar aside and took you in his gaze. He didn't offer a logical solution or tell you to calm down, because he knew that would only make the situation infinitely worse. Instead, he turned you around and pulled you tight against his body.
"I know," he hushed, his fingers tangling into your hair to gently press your face into the crook of his neck.
You gripped his shirt, letting the irrational anger and frustration evaporate. He steadied you right there in the middle of the kitchen, swaying you slightly to calm you down in the ways he knew best.
"Take your time," he breathed against your temple, his reassuring presence absorbing every ounce of your oscillating mood.
Itachi
You had spent the last twenty minutes reorganizing the books and scrolls on Itachi's bookshelf. His diligent nature usually made this a calming task for you, and you took pride in helping him, but today, you were desperate to burn off the stifling wave of hormonal anxiety clawing at your chest.
Every little thing felt too intense.
The binding of a heavy medical text refused to sit properly against the others, and the minor inconvenience actually made your eyes burn with frustrated tears.
“Why can’t you stay put—” you hissed, forcefully shoving the book into place.
"The categorizations are color-coded, yet you have placed anatomy in the center of the summoning section."
You jumped violently, and your shoulder slammed hard into the edge of the wooden shelf.
“Oh, fuck,” you hissed, instinctively grabbing your collarbone as the stinging pain radiated down your arm.
The room fell dead silent.
Itachi was standing in the doorway. You hadn't even sensed his presence until now, but his dark eyes were already analyzing the tense line of your spine.
"Are you alright?”
"I'm fine." You swallowed hard, turning around and forcing a counterfeit smile. "It's just my shoulder. I’m… doing some rearranging."
He didn't even blink.
He stepped fully into the room, his presence crowding out your messy energy. "I did not take you for the kind that would ever lie," he observed, stopping just a breath away from you. "Especially to me."
The gentle chastise completely dissolved your defenses. Your fake smile faded while your hands dropped uselessly to your sides, the exhaustion of your mood swing finally showing.
“Sorry, ‘tachi. I guess my body is just being difficult," you whispered, feeling ridiculous in front of him. "I'm overwhelmed for absolutely no reason.”
He reached out, his long fingers catching your wrist to guide you away from the shelf. With all the care in the world, he gathered you into his arms, wrapping you in a cocoon of his radiating warmth and safety.
"You do not need a reason to seek comfort,” he cooed, his chin coming to rest gently on the crown of your head.
You surrendered instantly, burying your face in the soft cotton of his black yukata. His hand settled firmly between your shoulder blades, his thumb mapping a slow circle to anchor your racing thoughts. He was content to just stand there and hold you together until the storm in your mind and body passed.
𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 Readers also liked: SMAU!Texting Naruto characters 2.0 | ✧ Masterlist | Have a request? Drop it here!
🎀 DO NOT repost, translate, modify, or feed my content to AI. All rights to the original writing and plots belong to me!
hai haiii ♥︎_♥︎ congrats on your masters!!!! im devouring ur naruto fics, u write them so good especially kakashi..
could I request headcanons of naruto men (shino, naruto, kakashi, sasuke and u pick others if u want) and fem reader when she's pmsing pls? thanks 🌞
How they deal with you during your luteal/PMS phase | Shikamaru, Might Guy, Kiba, Kakashi, Shino, Naruto, Sasuke & Itachi
.✦ ݁˖ Proofread: Ngl, kinda! Warnings: AFAB!reader, fluffy & domestic (some of 'em), mild profanity, mildly suggestive (Kiba, duh!), and some humor to lighten the mood. Shino's section contains mentions of insects. Readers are free to scroll past if these specific character interpretations or themes do not align with their comfort levels.
A/n: Thank YOUUU, sweet nonnie! I really appreciate it <3 I'm also happy you enjoy my AUs. I've been writing your request for a few days now, sorry it took so long! Malina helped me with the Kiba part, otherwise I'd have to put an MDNI here 😭 Also debuting Shino (and Guy) in my headcanons. Look who's also getting confident writing the Uchihas 😝 (I did consider making the reader and Naruto cry, but it was funnier in my head, tho)
Tag list: @ichxraaa | @itachispetrock | Tag list is OPEN for all AUs, please comment or DM me so I can add you to whatever you want to be tagged in <3
Enjoy! 🤍
Shikamaru
The violent thwack of the kitchen knife against the cutting board was the only thing tethering you to sanity. The summer heat pressing through the open windows at Shikamaru's house was unbearable enough on its own, but the vicious cramps radiating through your pelvis made the air feel too thick to breathe.
Your humor had been a shitty one since yesterday, and now your whole body ached and the cramps were almost eating you alive. Your PMS symptoms couldn't have started at a worse time.
You chopped another carrot, your knuckles white, the sound a little too sharp, a little too loud. You poured your frustration into the blade, pretending that if you struck hard enough, you might miraculously sever the ache right along with the vegetables.
Your hormones were a frayed wire, leaving you feeling like a raw nerve exposed to the open air. Behind you, the soft slide of the shoji screen signaled your boyfriend's arrival.
"Are you trying to intimidate dinner into cooking itself, or can I safely confiscate that?" Shikamaru teased, his voice with that familiar laziness that instantly made your jaw clench.
Really not the time, Shikamaru!
You slammed the knife down and gripped the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain ripped through your lower abdomen. Your feelings were now too intense, even for your own liking, and you were so not about to start a fight with him or end up crying over whatever it was that you were feeling.
You knew exactly how his mind worked; he avoided volatile emotions, so you fully expected him to turn his lazy feet right back around to avoid your hormonal wreckage.
"I'm fine, Shikamaru. Just let me cook," you snapped, though your voice quivered entirely too much to be convincing.
"Yeah, you look perfectly fine," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with dry sarcasm. He stepped right up behind you, his chest pressing lightly against your back as he removed the weapon from your tight grip.
"You're a terrifying woman when your uterus is angry, and I'd rather not bleed out in my own kitchen." You sighed and allowed him to move your body away from the counter.
Twelve agonizingly slow steps. That was exactly how long it took him to guide your exhausted body out of the stifling heat and into the cool shaded sanctuary of the living room.
He guided your sore body down, maneuvering you carefully until you were lying on your side atop a plush zabuton cushion, your back pressed securely against his folded legs.
His fingers found the exact base of your spine. His thumbs kneaded deeply into the aching lumbar muscles, applying a heavy pressure that instantly softened the tension right out of your pissed nervous system.
You let out a shaky whimper, the pain slowly draining out of you. "Aren't you supposed to be complaining about how troublesome I am?"
"You are troublesome. But you're my trouble," he replied with a lazyish smile. "And if I let you keep cooking, we'd be eating pulverized carrots. Close your eyes. I'm ordering takeout."
You went completely pliable against his legs as his thumbs continued their heavy, rhythmic pressure along your spine. "Thank you, Shikamaru," you huffed, your eyelids growing heavy.
He didn't say anything too sentimental back. Shikamaru was not a grand monologue type of guy, but he was always there for you, no matter the situation. He stretched his right arm, grabbing a woven fan from the low table to cool the sticky summer air around you.
"Yeah. I got you, baby," was the last thing he breathed before you drifted into a well-deserved nap.
Might Guy
Hiding in the darkness of your bedroom closet seemed like a brilliant plan until your spine locked up against the fluffy mat on the hardwood floor. But you refused to move as the unbearable ache radiating through your abdomen made the thought of uncurling your legs sound like absolute torture.
You buried your face deeper into the thick wool of your oversized sweater, praying the shadows would swallow you whole before he returned.
Too late.
You heard the front door open. It was followed by the relentlessly cheerful voice that usually made your heart flutter, but today simply made you wince.
Might Guy tracked your cycle with the exact same dedication he applied to his eight-gates training. He kept a very detailed color-coded calendar taped to the inside of the bathroom cabinet. He knew exactly what week it was. And worse, he knew exactly what was recommended for the pain.
He had read about it in a wellness magazine and immediately consulted Tsunade to confirm the method's validity. Her simple "yes" was all it took for him to draft an entire dynamic stretch plan specifically for your cycle.
"My beautiful lotus!" his voice echoed down the hallway, the floorboards literally shaking under his enthusiastic strides. "It is time to embrace the healing power of the dynamic stretch!"
You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut.
Please don't find me here. Please, please...
Guy could find you in any crowd, anywhere, at any moment. So when the closet door swung open, flooding your dark sanctuary with blinding afternoon light, you were not entirely surprised.
He stood in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips. His signature gleaming smile softened the second his dark eyes locked onto your miserable form.
His large hand encircled your ankle securely. He eased you out of the closet with a smooth continuous pull, completely ignoring your pathetic whine of protest.
"I am NOT doing yoga, Guy," you croaked. "Let me die in the dark."
"Nonsense!" he declared, though his volume was noticeably dialed down to a rumbling baritone.
He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling your body against his bulky chest. "The Springtime of Youth does not surrender to uterine distress! But," he paused, pressing a kiss to your temple, "it does allow for negotiation."
He carried you to the center of the tatami mat and laid you down lovingly.
"Negotiation?"
"Three modified stretches," he bargained. "Ten minutes of deep breathing to open your chakra pathways." He leaned in closer to finish his proposal. "And in return, I will personally carry you to the onsen and feed you sweet dumplings until you fall asleep in my arms."
"Can we do sweet dumplings first and then hot springs?" you asked with pleading puppy eyes.
"You got yourself a deal, my lotus!" He chanted, helping you stand up straight so you could begin your stretching session.
Kiba
The ruthless ache anchored deep in your pelvis made simply existing feel like an impossible task; your head ached so bad it felt like it was about to explode. You traded your jeans for sweatpants after you came home from work, and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, waiting for the painkillers to finally kick in. You tossed and turned against the sheets, desperate for any kind of release from the discomfort.
You didn't hear the front door open, only the faint click of your bedroom door that barely registered over the hammering in your head. What gave him away was the sudden shift in the air, a clear trace of petrichor and pine creeping into the room.
Kiba leaned lazily against the doorframe, his wolf-like eyes raking over your messy form. A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, you look so hot. Is all that for me?"
What was wrong with men and their weird habit of finding you hot on your absolute worst days? I'm in literal sweatpants.
You didn't even have the energy to glare at him properly. "Kiba, please, not today," you grunted, burying your feverish face into your hands. "This is not the time nor the place."
A low puff of amusement escaped him. He pushed off the wood, crossing the room with padded steps.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he murmured. "I could smell your hormones dropping from a mile away, duh."
You let out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl into a miserable little ball. "Then let me suffer in peace. Bye."
You didn't even get the chance to fully roll away. The mattress dipped heavily behind you, his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you in place as his broad chest pressed closer against your spine.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tongue dragging a slick line against your skin. The sharp inhale he took and the soft heat of his mouth sent a comforting wave straight down your back.
"Well," he teased, his voice dropping into a rough but incredibly suggestive beat. "I know a few ways to ease the ache."
He shifted closer, his warmth acting as the perfect human heating pad against your lower back, but the friction of his hips pressing into you told a slightly different story.
"Besides," his teeth nipped against your pulse point, his feral edge completely melting into an intoxicating devotion. "This drop in your scent always drives me insane."
You finally turned to face him, staring right into his eyes. You batted your eyelashes, your defenses crumbling as he leaned in closer and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.
His left hand slid down your back, his fingers massaging firmly against your lower spine. The heavy pressure relieved the tension for a second, pulling a relieved sigh from your throat.
"Hmm, Kiba. That feels so much better," you breathed, leaning your weight completely into his hold.
"I know, baby. I gotcha," was the only thing he managed to mutter before pressing his forehead against yours. He then dropped his face to your collarbone, biting gently at the sensitive skin. He pulled the thick blanket over both of you, entwining his legs with yours so you were surrounded by his heat.
"Gosh, your body heat is literally magic," you cooed, the cramps finally starting to ease under his touch.
"See? Even when you want to kick me out, your body literally can't resist me, huh? C'mere, let me show you another way to make the pain go away."
Kakashi
Staring at merchant trade maps for six hours straight was exhausting on a good day, but doing it while your uterus felt like a literal war zone was pure torture. You had fought tooth and nail for the Village Liaison position at the Hokage's tower, but the physical toll of your cycle had entirely eclipsed any sign of your ambition today.
You had spent the entire morning trying to hide the gnawing waves of cramps that kept pulling you out of your focus, and you thought you were hiding it well enough from the rest of the tower staff, but you could never hide it from Kakashi.
He was in the building quite often most days, reviewing mission reports or tending to the Hokage’s endless requests. Lately, he had been using those tasks as a thinly veiled excuse to loiter in your workspace, casually claiming the lavender armchair in the corner as his official spot, and turning the pages of his crude orange book while you deciphered trade manifests in total silence. Except today, that silence felt heavy, charged with the weight of his unblinking attention.
He didn't stare, of course, that would be too obvious even for him, but he was a man who noticed everything. He watched the pained flicker of your eyelids when you stood up to reach a high shelf, and how you pressed your lips into a thin line every time you sank back into your chair.
He recognized the subtle signs of physical distress a little too well.
It wasn’t until he looked away from his book to check on you that he finally understood the real reason behind it. When you pulled a small blister pack of pills from your bag, his eye caught the label in a split second, the pieces clicking together right before him.
Oh, so you were feeling that kind of pain.
Now, back in the comfort of your own place after a dreadful day at the office, you groaned, trying to find a proper position in your bed. You pulled the thick duvet completely over your head as another crushing contraction tore through your abdomen and legs.
The weight of the afternoon dragged on until a knock at your front door finally broke the silence.
"Who is it?"
“Hey. It's me," came Kakashi's muffled, lazy drawl.
You dragged yourself out of bed, opening the door just a crack. He stood there in his standard casual clothes, holding a stack of trade route maps you had intentionally left behind at the archives.
"You left these on the desk," he lied effortlessly, because he knew you didn’t have any plans on bringing work home. A quick brow pinch of genuine concern betrayed his casual posture the second he saw how pale your face was.
"Thanks, Kakashi, but honestly... not today. I clocked out thirty minutes ago," you mumbled, leaning your head against the doorframe, far too exhausted to deal with office talk, or any talk for that matter.
“I see… It’s fine. Why don’t you go get some rest? I'll just leave these on the kitchen island.” His eye curved into a softened gaze as he blatantly ignored your dismissal, slipping right past you and into your apartment. You were in too much pain to argue.
“Right. Just don’t… mind the mess, please,” you sighed in defeat, promptly retreating back to the dark sanctuary of your bedroom.
When you finally woke up from a two-hour nap, the simmering coil in your stomach had dulled to a manageable ache, so you decided to stand up and at least tidy up what you could. But the moment you shuffled out into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.
It wasn't deep-cleaned, but the piles and piles of stray papers were organized. The coffee mug you’d left out was rinsed alongside the small pile of dirty dishes from the night before, and the heart-warming smell of a covered bowl of fresh Okayu drifted from the stove.
Sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to a glass of water and a blister pack of the exact same painkillers he had seen you taking, was his worn, overfamiliar orange book. A small sticky note was slapped onto the cover, his characteristically messy handwriting scribbled hastily across the paper.
“Hopefully this helps you laugh a bit through the pain :) It usually works for me. I’ll come by later. — K”
Shino
You were the type who treated physical ailments like a personal challenge. While most people would immediately reach for a bottle of pain relievers, you preferred to raw dog your way through it.
Every. Single. Time.
Today, however, the twisting cramps in your lower abdomen were testing all limits of your resolve.
You were curled tightly on the edge of the living room rug, your jaw locked as you forcefully tried to focus on the scroll in your lap. A vicious spike of pain tore through your core again, pulling a small gasp from your throat.
Shino had been observing you from the other side of the room for the last ten minutes. His dark glasses completely concealed his eyes, but his (hyper) focused posture gave him away. He noticed your shallow breathing and the way your knuckles turned stark white against the parchment every second, and at this point, he'd had enough.
He knew your stubbornness intimately, he knew you way too well, aware that if he offered a soothing cup of medicinal tea or suggested you lie down, your knee-jerk reaction would be to wave him off.
So, he simply bypassed the argument at once.
His ghost-like footsteps barely registered before he dropped onto the floor right behind you. His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his solid chest, his soothing touch already consuming you.
"Shino, I'm fine," you grunted, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
"You are not! Why? Because your body language suggests otherwise." His deep voice was a rumble against your spine. "And you do not have to prove your endurance to me."
He didn't give you the chance to argue. His hands found their way under your sweater and moved to rest directly over your stomach. The hum of his chakra resonated against your skin as he quietly ordered his kikaichu to disperse across your abdomen, completely hidden beneath the fabric layers.
A flowing heat bloomed across your skin. It was far more effective than anything you could’ve tried, melting into your muscles and making you relax instantly. The relief was so jarring that a heavy sigh ripped its way out of your chest, making your hardheaded posture completely dissolve as your head fell back onto his shoulder.
"Better," he wooed, his thumb gently stroking the skin near your waistband.
"Sneaky," you breathed through a small chuckle, closing your eyes to relax under his touch.
"Efficiency requires a silent approach," he cooed, adjusting his high-collared coat to completely envelop you in his warmth.
Naruto
“Shiiit,” you cursed as you dropped the laundry basket. The loud clatter of plastic spilling clothes echoed against the hardwood as you sank down right beside it, completely winded. The pain in your lower back finally peaked into an overpowering cramp.
The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thump.
"I'm HOOOOOME—" Naruto's happy voice rang through the apartment, cutting off into a gasp as he saw you on the floor. He took in the scattered laundry and your trembling form curled on the floor, tension gripping his jaw.
He dropped his takeout bags and crossed the distance in a millisecond, dropping to his knees with panic in his eyes. "Who did this? Are we under attack? What happened?“ he babbled.
His hands hovered over your body like he was terrified he might break you, inspecting you for any signs of injuries.
"Naruto," you croaked, taking a deep breath, "It's just my cycle."
He blinked.
The trepidation fully drained from his face, replaced by pure relief.
"Oh. Oh." He let out a nervous laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Okay. Yeah, yeah, I totally knew that."
He scooped you right off the floor, pulling your frame flush against his chest.
His body ran notoriously hot, so the immediate friction of his skin against yours acted like a giant human heating pad against your cramping muscles.
"I brought Ichiraku for you," he coaxed, carrying you toward the bedroom. He deposited you carefully onto the mattress, pulling the blanket right up to your chin.
"Don't move, I'll be right back."
He sprinted back down the hall to retrieve the abandoned takeout and returned with the brown bags, crawling in beside you to share his body heat once again.
"We are getting you comfortable, and I am feeding you noodles until you feel better," his voice losing its goofy edge and settling into something more tender, more caring.
You didn't even have the energy to say you weren't really hungry as he unpacked the takeout containers directly onto the bed. He blew on a cluster of noodles to cool them down for you, completely determined to heal your pain with pork broth and his unadulterated love.
Sasuke
You were staring at the glass jar on the kitchen counter with burning rage. What should have been a minor inconvenience had quickly escalated into a wave of hormonal fury.
The metal lid refused to budge, your hands shaking as you twisted it again, the friction burning your skin.
“Why won’t you open, you little—”
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, silently watching you wage war against the inanimate object. It was almost funny.
Almost.
But he knew any wrong move would result in that havoc being projected somewhere else, or worse, onto someone else. He was smarter than that; he would not volunteer as a tribute to this impending massacre happening in the kitchen of your shared house.
When you finally slammed the jar down and let out a frustrated sob, he pushed off the wood. He knew your cycle made your emotions swing out of control, way more than you even admitted most of the time, turning the smallest obstacles into total tragedies.
He stepped into the room, closing the distance between you. Reaching past your shoulder, he took the glass from your grip, gave it a single twist, and the lid popped open.
“Thank you, Sasuke…” You could barely look at him. “It's stupid," you choked out, wiping the tears of frustration spilling over your lashes. "I'm just so mad for no reason."
Sasuke set the jar aside and took you in his gaze. He didn't offer a logical solution or tell you to calm down, because he knew that would only make the situation infinitely worse. Instead, he turned you around and pulled you tight against his body.
"I know," he hushed, his fingers tangling into your hair to gently press your face into the crook of his neck.
You gripped his shirt, letting the irrational anger and frustration evaporate. He steadied you right there in the middle of the kitchen, swaying you slightly to calm you down in the ways he knew best.
"Take your time," he breathed against your temple, his reassuring presence absorbing every ounce of your oscillating mood.
Itachi
You had spent the last twenty minutes reorganizing the books and scrolls on Itachi's bookshelf. His diligent nature usually made this a calming task for you, and you took pride in helping him, but today, you were desperate to burn off the stifling wave of hormonal anxiety clawing at your chest.
Every little thing felt too intense.
The binding of a heavy medical text refused to sit properly against the others, and the minor inconvenience actually made your eyes burn with frustrated tears.
“Why can’t you stay put—” you hissed, forcefully shoving the book into place.
"The categorizations are color-coded, yet you have placed anatomy in the center of the summoning section."
You jumped violently, and your shoulder slammed hard into the edge of the wooden shelf.
“Oh, fuck,” you hissed, instinctively grabbing your collarbone as the stinging pain radiated down your arm.
The room fell dead silent.
Itachi was standing in the doorway. You hadn't even sensed his presence until now, but his dark eyes were already analyzing the tense line of your spine.
"Are you alright?”
"I'm fine." You swallowed hard, turning around and forcing a counterfeit smile. "It's just my shoulder. I’m… doing some rearranging."
He didn't even blink.
He stepped fully into the room, his presence crowding out your messy energy. "I did not take you for the kind that would ever lie," he observed, stopping just a breath away from you. "Especially to me."
The gentle chastise completely dissolved your defenses. Your fake smile faded while your hands dropped uselessly to your sides, the exhaustion of your mood swing finally showing.
“Sorry, ‘tachi. I guess my body is just being difficult," you whispered, feeling ridiculous in front of him. "I'm overwhelmed for absolutely no reason.”
He reached out, his long fingers catching your wrist to guide you away from the shelf. With all the care in the world, he gathered you into his arms, wrapping you in a cocoon of his radiating warmth and safety.
"You do not need a reason to seek comfort,” he cooed, his chin coming to rest gently on the crown of your head.
You surrendered instantly, burying your face in the soft cotton of his black yukata. His hand settled firmly between your shoulder blades, his thumb mapping a slow circle to anchor your racing thoughts. He was content to just stand there and hold you together until the storm in your mind and body passed.
𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 Readers also liked: SMAU!Texting Naruto characters 2.0 | ✧ Masterlist | Have a request? Drop it here!
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hai haiii ♥︎_♥︎ congrats on your masters!!!! im devouring ur naruto fics, u write them so good especially kakashi..
could I request headcanons of naruto men (shino, naruto, kakashi, sasuke and u pick others if u want) and fem reader when she's pmsing pls? thanks 🌞
How they deal with you during your luteal/PMS phase | Shikamaru, Might Guy, Kiba, Kakashi, Shino, Naruto, Sasuke & Itachi
.✦ ݁˖ Proofread: Ngl, kinda! Warnings: AFAB!reader, fluffy & domestic (some of 'em), mild profanity, mildly suggestive (Kiba, duh!), and some humor to lighten the mood. Shino's section contains mentions of insects. Readers are free to scroll past if these specific character interpretations or themes do not align with their comfort levels.
A/n: Thank YOUUU, sweet nonnie! I really appreciate it <3 I'm also happy you enjoy my AUs. I've been writing your request for a few days now, sorry it took so long! Malina helped me with the Kiba part, otherwise I'd have to put an MDNI here 😭 Also debuting Shino (and Guy) in my headcanons. Look who's also getting confident writing the Uchihas 😝 (I did consider making the reader and Naruto cry, but it was funnier in my head, tho)
Tag list: @ichxraaa | @itachispetrock | Tag list is OPEN for all AUs, please comment or DM me so I can add you to whatever you want to be tagged in <3
Enjoy! 🤍
Shikamaru
The violent thwack of the kitchen knife against the cutting board was the only thing tethering you to sanity. The summer heat pressing through the open windows at Shikamaru's house was unbearable enough on its own, but the vicious cramps radiating through your pelvis made the air feel too thick to breathe.
Your humor had been a shitty one since yesterday, and now your whole body ached and the cramps were almost eating you alive. Your PMS symptoms couldn't have started at a worse time.
You chopped another carrot, your knuckles white, the sound a little too sharp, a little too loud. You poured your frustration into the blade, pretending that if you struck hard enough, you might miraculously sever the ache right along with the vegetables.
Your hormones were a frayed wire, leaving you feeling like a raw nerve exposed to the open air. Behind you, the soft slide of the shoji screen signaled your boyfriend's arrival.
"Are you trying to intimidate dinner into cooking itself, or can I safely confiscate that?" Shikamaru teased, his voice with that familiar laziness that instantly made your jaw clench.
Really not the time, Shikamaru!
You slammed the knife down and gripped the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain ripped through your lower abdomen. Your feelings were now too intense, even for your own liking, and you were so not about to start a fight with him or end up crying over whatever it was that you were feeling.
You knew exactly how his mind worked; he avoided volatile emotions, so you fully expected him to turn his lazy feet right back around to avoid your hormonal wreckage.
"I'm fine, Shikamaru. Just let me cook," you snapped, though your voice quivered entirely too much to be convincing.
"Yeah, you look perfectly fine," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with dry sarcasm. He stepped right up behind you, his chest pressing lightly against your back as he removed the weapon from your tight grip.
"You're a terrifying woman when your uterus is angry, and I'd rather not bleed out in my own kitchen." You sighed and allowed him to move your body away from the counter.
Twelve agonizingly slow steps. That was exactly how long it took him to guide your exhausted body out of the stifling heat and into the cool shaded sanctuary of the living room.
He guided your sore body down, maneuvering you carefully until you were lying on your side atop a plush zabuton cushion, your back pressed securely against his folded legs.
His fingers found the exact base of your spine. His thumbs kneaded deeply into the aching lumbar muscles, applying a heavy pressure that instantly softened the tension right out of your pissed nervous system.
You let out a shaky whimper, the pain slowly draining out of you. "Aren't you supposed to be complaining about how troublesome I am?"
"You are troublesome. But you're my trouble," he replied with a lazyish smile. "And if I let you keep cooking, we'd be eating pulverized carrots. Close your eyes. I'm ordering takeout."
You went completely pliable against his legs as his thumbs continued their heavy, rhythmic pressure along your spine. "Thank you, Shikamaru," you huffed, your eyelids growing heavy.
He didn't say anything too sentimental back. Shikamaru was not a grand monologue type of guy, but he was always there for you, no matter the situation. He stretched his right arm, grabbing a woven fan from the low table to cool the sticky summer air around you.
"Yeah. I got you, baby," was the last thing he breathed before you drifted into a well-deserved nap.
Might Guy
Hiding in the darkness of your bedroom closet seemed like a brilliant plan until your spine locked up against the fluffy mat on the hardwood floor. But you refused to move as the unbearable ache radiating through your abdomen made the thought of uncurling your legs sound like absolute torture.
You buried your face deeper into the thick wool of your oversized sweater, praying the shadows would swallow you whole before he returned.
Too late.
You heard the front door open. It was followed by the relentlessly cheerful voice that usually made your heart flutter, but today simply made you wince.
Might Guy tracked your cycle with the exact same dedication he applied to his eight-gates training. He kept a very detailed color-coded calendar taped to the inside of the bathroom cabinet. He knew exactly what week it was. And worse, he knew exactly what was recommended for the pain.
He had read about it in a wellness magazine and immediately consulted Tsunade to confirm the method's validity. Her simple "yes" was all it took for him to draft an entire dynamic stretch plan specifically for your cycle.
"My beautiful lotus!" his voice echoed down the hallway, the floorboards literally shaking under his enthusiastic strides. "It is time to embrace the healing power of the dynamic stretch!"
You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut.
Please don't find me here. Please, please...
Guy could find you in any crowd, anywhere, at any moment. So when the closet door swung open, flooding your dark sanctuary with blinding afternoon light, you were not entirely surprised.
He stood in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips. His signature gleaming smile softened the second his dark eyes locked onto your miserable form.
His large hand encircled your ankle securely. He eased you out of the closet with a smooth continuous pull, completely ignoring your pathetic whine of protest.
"I am NOT doing yoga, Guy," you croaked. "Let me die in the dark."
"Nonsense!" he declared, though his volume was noticeably dialed down to a rumbling baritone.
He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling your body against his bulky chest. "The Springtime of Youth does not surrender to uterine distress! But," he paused, pressing a kiss to your temple, "it does allow for negotiation."
He carried you to the center of the tatami mat and laid you down lovingly.
"Negotiation?"
"Three modified stretches," he bargained. "Ten minutes of deep breathing to open your chakra pathways." He leaned in closer to finish his proposal. "And in return, I will personally carry you to the onsen and feed you sweet dumplings until you fall asleep in my arms."
"Can we do sweet dumplings first and then hot springs?" you asked with pleading puppy eyes.
"You got yourself a deal, my lotus!" He chanted, helping you stand up straight so you could begin your stretching session.
Kiba
The ruthless ache anchored deep in your pelvis made simply existing feel like an impossible task; your head ached so bad it felt like it was about to explode. You traded your jeans for sweatpants after you came home from work, and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, waiting for the painkillers to finally kick in. You tossed and turned against the sheets, desperate for any kind of release from the discomfort.
You didn't hear the front door open, only the faint click of your bedroom door that barely registered over the hammering in your head. What gave him away was the sudden shift in the air, a clear trace of petrichor and pine creeping into the room.
Kiba leaned lazily against the doorframe, his wolf-like eyes raking over your messy form. A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, you look so hot. Is all that for me?"
What was wrong with men and their weird habit of finding you hot on your absolute worst days? I'm in literal sweatpants.
You didn't even have the energy to glare at him properly. "Kiba, please, not today," you grunted, burying your feverish face into your hands. "This is not the time nor the place."
A low puff of amusement escaped him. He pushed off the wood, crossing the room with padded steps.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he murmured. "I could smell your hormones dropping from a mile away, duh."
You let out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl into a miserable little ball. "Then let me suffer in peace. Bye."
You didn't even get the chance to fully roll away. The mattress dipped heavily behind you, his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you in place as his broad chest pressed closer against your spine.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tongue dragging a slick line against your skin. The sharp inhale he took and the soft heat of his mouth sent a comforting wave straight down your back.
"Well," he teased, his voice dropping into a rough but incredibly suggestive beat. "I know a few ways to ease the ache."
He shifted closer, his warmth acting as the perfect human heating pad against your lower back, but the friction of his hips pressing into you told a slightly different story.
"Besides," his teeth nipped against your pulse point, his feral edge completely melting into an intoxicating devotion. "This drop in your scent always drives me insane."
You finally turned to face him, staring right into his eyes. You batted your eyelashes, your defenses crumbling as he leaned in closer and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.
His left hand slid down your back, his fingers massaging firmly against your lower spine. The heavy pressure relieved the tension for a second, pulling a relieved sigh from your throat.
"Hmm, Kiba. That feels so much better," you breathed, leaning your weight completely into his hold.
"I know, baby. I gotcha," was the only thing he managed to mutter before pressing his forehead against yours. He then dropped his face to your collarbone, biting gently at the sensitive skin. He pulled the thick blanket over both of you, entwining his legs with yours so you were surrounded by his heat.
"Gosh, your body heat is literally magic," you cooed, the cramps finally starting to ease under his touch.
"See? Even when you want to kick me out, your body literally can't resist me, huh? C'mere, let me show you another way to make the pain go away."
Kakashi
Staring at merchant trade maps for six hours straight was exhausting on a good day, but doing it while your uterus felt like a literal war zone was pure torture. You had fought tooth and nail for the Village Liaison position at the Hokage's tower, but the physical toll of your cycle had entirely eclipsed any sign of your ambition today.
You had spent the entire morning trying to hide the gnawing waves of cramps that kept pulling you out of your focus, and you thought you were hiding it well enough from the rest of the tower staff, but you could never hide it from Kakashi.
He was in the building quite often most days, reviewing mission reports or tending to the Hokage’s endless requests. Lately, he had been using those tasks as a thinly veiled excuse to loiter in your workspace, casually claiming the lavender armchair in the corner as his official spot, and turning the pages of his crude orange book while you deciphered trade manifests in total silence. Except today, that silence felt heavy, charged with the weight of his unblinking attention.
He didn't stare, of course, that would be too obvious even for him, but he was a man who noticed everything. He watched the pained flicker of your eyelids when you stood up to reach a high shelf, and how you pressed your lips into a thin line every time you sank back into your chair.
He recognized the subtle signs of physical distress a little too well.
It wasn’t until he looked away from his book to check on you that he finally understood the real reason behind it. When you pulled a small blister pack of pills from your bag, his eye caught the label in a split second, the pieces clicking together right before him.
Oh, so you were feeling that kind of pain.
Now, back in the comfort of your own place after a dreadful day at the office, you groaned, trying to find a proper position in your bed. You pulled the thick duvet completely over your head as another crushing contraction tore through your abdomen and legs.
The weight of the afternoon dragged on until a knock at your front door finally broke the silence.
"Who is it?"
“Hey. It's me," came Kakashi's muffled, lazy drawl.
You dragged yourself out of bed, opening the door just a crack. He stood there in his standard casual clothes, holding a stack of trade route maps you had intentionally left behind at the archives.
"You left these on the desk," he lied effortlessly, because he knew you didn’t have any plans on bringing work home. A quick brow pinch of genuine concern betrayed his casual posture the second he saw how pale your face was.
"Thanks, Kakashi, but honestly... not today. I clocked out thirty minutes ago," you mumbled, leaning your head against the doorframe, far too exhausted to deal with office talk, or any talk for that matter.
“I see… It’s fine. Why don’t you go get some rest? I'll just leave these on the kitchen island.” His eye curved into a softened gaze as he blatantly ignored your dismissal, slipping right past you and into your apartment. You were in too much pain to argue.
“Right. Just don’t… mind the mess, please,” you sighed in defeat, promptly retreating back to the dark sanctuary of your bedroom.
When you finally woke up from a two-hour nap, the simmering coil in your stomach had dulled to a manageable ache, so you decided to stand up and at least tidy up what you could. But the moment you shuffled out into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.
It wasn't deep-cleaned, but the piles and piles of stray papers were organized. The coffee mug you’d left out was rinsed alongside the small pile of dirty dishes from the night before, and the heart-warming smell of a covered bowl of fresh Okayu drifted from the stove.
Sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to a glass of water and a blister pack of the exact same painkillers he had seen you taking, was his worn, overfamiliar orange book. A small sticky note was slapped onto the cover, his characteristically messy handwriting scribbled hastily across the paper.
“Hopefully this helps you laugh a bit through the pain :) It usually works for me. I’ll come by later. — K”
Shino
You were the type who treated physical ailments like a personal challenge. While most people would immediately reach for a bottle of pain relievers, you preferred to raw dog your way through it.
Every. Single. Time.
Today, however, the twisting cramps in your lower abdomen were testing all limits of your resolve.
You were curled tightly on the edge of the living room rug, your jaw locked as you forcefully tried to focus on the scroll in your lap. A vicious spike of pain tore through your core again, pulling a small gasp from your throat.
Shino had been observing you from the other side of the room for the last ten minutes. His dark glasses completely concealed his eyes, but his (hyper) focused posture gave him away. He noticed your shallow breathing and the way your knuckles turned stark white against the parchment every second, and at this point, he'd had enough.
He knew your stubbornness intimately, he knew you way too well, aware that if he offered a soothing cup of medicinal tea or suggested you lie down, your knee-jerk reaction would be to wave him off.
So, he simply bypassed the argument at once.
His ghost-like footsteps barely registered before he dropped onto the floor right behind you. His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his solid chest, his soothing touch already consuming you.
"Shino, I'm fine," you grunted, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
"You are not! Why? Because your body language suggests otherwise." His deep voice was a rumble against your spine. "And you do not have to prove your endurance to me."
He didn't give you the chance to argue. His hands found their way under your sweater and moved to rest directly over your stomach. The hum of his chakra resonated against your skin as he quietly ordered his kikaichu to disperse across your abdomen, completely hidden beneath the fabric layers.
A flowing heat bloomed across your skin. It was far more effective than anything you could’ve tried, melting into your muscles and making you relax instantly. The relief was so jarring that a heavy sigh ripped its way out of your chest, making your hardheaded posture completely dissolve as your head fell back onto his shoulder.
"Better," he wooed, his thumb gently stroking the skin near your waistband.
"Sneaky," you breathed through a small chuckle, closing your eyes to relax under his touch.
"Efficiency requires a silent approach," he cooed, adjusting his high-collared coat to completely envelop you in his warmth.
Naruto
“Shiiit,” you cursed as you dropped the laundry basket. The loud clatter of plastic spilling clothes echoed against the hardwood as you sank down right beside it, completely winded. The pain in your lower back finally peaked into an overpowering cramp.
The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thump.
"I'm HOOOOOME—" Naruto's happy voice rang through the apartment, cutting off into a gasp as he saw you on the floor. He took in the scattered laundry and your trembling form curled on the floor, tension gripping his jaw.
He dropped his takeout bags and crossed the distance in a millisecond, dropping to his knees with panic in his eyes. "Who did this? Are we under attack? What happened?“ he babbled.
His hands hovered over your body like he was terrified he might break you, inspecting you for any signs of injuries.
"Naruto," you croaked, taking a deep breath, "It's just my cycle."
He blinked.
The trepidation fully drained from his face, replaced by pure relief.
"Oh. Oh." He let out a nervous laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Okay. Yeah, yeah, I totally knew that."
He scooped you right off the floor, pulling your frame flush against his chest.
His body ran notoriously hot, so the immediate friction of his skin against yours acted like a giant human heating pad against your cramping muscles.
"I brought Ichiraku for you," he coaxed, carrying you toward the bedroom. He deposited you carefully onto the mattress, pulling the blanket right up to your chin.
"Don't move, I'll be right back."
He sprinted back down the hall to retrieve the abandoned takeout and returned with the brown bags, crawling in beside you to share his body heat once again.
"We are getting you comfortable, and I am feeding you noodles until you feel better," his voice losing its goofy edge and settling into something more tender, more caring.
You didn't even have the energy to say you weren't really hungry as he unpacked the takeout containers directly onto the bed. He blew on a cluster of noodles to cool them down for you, completely determined to heal your pain with pork broth and his unadulterated love.
Sasuke
You were staring at the glass jar on the kitchen counter with burning rage. What should have been a minor inconvenience had quickly escalated into a wave of hormonal fury.
The metal lid refused to budge, your hands shaking as you twisted it again, the friction burning your skin.
“Why won’t you open, you little—”
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, silently watching you wage war against the inanimate object. It was almost funny.
Almost.
But he knew any wrong move would result in that havoc being projected somewhere else, or worse, onto someone else. He was smarter than that; he would not volunteer as a tribute to this impending massacre happening in the kitchen of your shared house.
When you finally slammed the jar down and let out a frustrated sob, he pushed off the wood. He knew your cycle made your emotions swing out of control, way more than you even admitted most of the time, turning the smallest obstacles into total tragedies.
He stepped into the room, closing the distance between you. Reaching past your shoulder, he took the glass from your grip, gave it a single twist, and the lid popped open.
“Thank you, Sasuke…” You could barely look at him. “It's stupid," you choked out, wiping the tears of frustration spilling over your lashes. "I'm just so mad for no reason."
Sasuke set the jar aside and took you in his gaze. He didn't offer a logical solution or tell you to calm down, because he knew that would only make the situation infinitely worse. Instead, he turned you around and pulled you tight against his body.
"I know," he hushed, his fingers tangling into your hair to gently press your face into the crook of his neck.
You gripped his shirt, letting the irrational anger and frustration evaporate. He steadied you right there in the middle of the kitchen, swaying you slightly to calm you down in the ways he knew best.
"Take your time," he breathed against your temple, his reassuring presence absorbing every ounce of your oscillating mood.
Itachi
You had spent the last twenty minutes reorganizing the books and scrolls on Itachi's bookshelf. His diligent nature usually made this a calming task for you, and you took pride in helping him, but today, you were desperate to burn off the stifling wave of hormonal anxiety clawing at your chest.
Every little thing felt too intense.
The binding of a heavy medical text refused to sit properly against the others, and the minor inconvenience actually made your eyes burn with frustrated tears.
“Why can’t you stay put—” you hissed, forcefully shoving the book into place.
"The categorizations are color-coded, yet you have placed anatomy in the center of the summoning section."
You jumped violently, and your shoulder slammed hard into the edge of the wooden shelf.
“Oh, fuck,” you hissed, instinctively grabbing your collarbone as the stinging pain radiated down your arm.
The room fell dead silent.
Itachi was standing in the doorway. You hadn't even sensed his presence until now, but his dark eyes were already analyzing the tense line of your spine.
"Are you alright?”
"I'm fine." You swallowed hard, turning around and forcing a counterfeit smile. "It's just my shoulder. I’m… doing some rearranging."
He didn't even blink.
He stepped fully into the room, his presence crowding out your messy energy. "I did not take you for the kind that would ever lie," he observed, stopping just a breath away from you. "Especially to me."
The gentle chastise completely dissolved your defenses. Your fake smile faded while your hands dropped uselessly to your sides, the exhaustion of your mood swing finally showing.
“Sorry, ‘tachi. I guess my body is just being difficult," you whispered, feeling ridiculous in front of him. "I'm overwhelmed for absolutely no reason.”
He reached out, his long fingers catching your wrist to guide you away from the shelf. With all the care in the world, he gathered you into his arms, wrapping you in a cocoon of his radiating warmth and safety.
"You do not need a reason to seek comfort,” he cooed, his chin coming to rest gently on the crown of your head.
You surrendered instantly, burying your face in the soft cotton of his black yukata. His hand settled firmly between your shoulder blades, his thumb mapping a slow circle to anchor your racing thoughts. He was content to just stand there and hold you together until the storm in your mind and body passed.
𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 Readers also liked: SMAU!Texting Naruto characters 2.0 | ✧ Masterlist | Have a request? Drop it here!
🎀 DO NOT repost, translate, modify, or feed my content to AI. All rights to the original writing and plots belong to me!
hai haiii ♥︎_♥︎ congrats on your masters!!!! im devouring ur naruto fics, u write them so good especially kakashi..
could I request headcanons of naruto men (shino, naruto, kakashi, sasuke and u pick others if u want) and fem reader when she's pmsing pls? thanks 🌞
How they deal with you during your luteal/PMS phase | Shikamaru, Might Guy, Kiba, Kakashi, Shino, Naruto, Sasuke & Itachi
.✦ ݁˖ Proofread: Ngl, kinda! Warnings: AFAB!reader, fluffy & domestic (some of 'em), mild profanity, mildly suggestive (Kiba, duh!), and some humor to lighten the mood. Shino's section contains mentions of insects. Readers are free to scroll past if these specific character interpretations or themes do not align with their comfort levels.
A/n: Thank YOUUU, sweet nonnie! I really appreciate it <3 I'm also happy you enjoy my AUs. I've been writing your request for a few days now, sorry it took so long! Malina helped me with the Kiba part, otherwise I'd have to put an MDNI here 😭 Also debuting Shino (and Guy) in my headcanons. Look who's also getting confident writing the Uchihas 😝 (I did consider making the reader and Naruto cry, but it was funnier in my head, tho)
Tag list: @ichxraaa | @itachispetrock | Tag list is OPEN for all AUs, please comment or DM me so I can add you to whatever you want to be tagged in <3
Enjoy! 🤍
Shikamaru
The violent thwack of the kitchen knife against the cutting board was the only thing tethering you to sanity. The summer heat pressing through the open windows at Shikamaru's house was unbearable enough on its own, but the vicious cramps radiating through your pelvis made the air feel too thick to breathe.
Your humor had been a shitty one since yesterday, and now your whole body ached and the cramps were almost eating you alive. Your PMS symptoms couldn't have started at a worse time.
You chopped another carrot, your knuckles white, the sound a little too sharp, a little too loud. You poured your frustration into the blade, pretending that if you struck hard enough, you might miraculously sever the ache right along with the vegetables.
Your hormones were a frayed wire, leaving you feeling like a raw nerve exposed to the open air. Behind you, the soft slide of the shoji screen signaled your boyfriend's arrival.
"Are you trying to intimidate dinner into cooking itself, or can I safely confiscate that?" Shikamaru teased, his voice with that familiar laziness that instantly made your jaw clench.
Really not the time, Shikamaru!
You slammed the knife down and gripped the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain ripped through your lower abdomen. Your feelings were now too intense, even for your own liking, and you were so not about to start a fight with him or end up crying over whatever it was that you were feeling.
You knew exactly how his mind worked; he avoided volatile emotions, so you fully expected him to turn his lazy feet right back around to avoid your hormonal wreckage.
"I'm fine, Shikamaru. Just let me cook," you snapped, though your voice quivered entirely too much to be convincing.
"Yeah, you look perfectly fine," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with dry sarcasm. He stepped right up behind you, his chest pressing lightly against your back as he removed the weapon from your tight grip.
"You're a terrifying woman when your uterus is angry, and I'd rather not bleed out in my own kitchen." You sighed and allowed him to move your body away from the counter.
Twelve agonizingly slow steps. That was exactly how long it took him to guide your exhausted body out of the stifling heat and into the cool shaded sanctuary of the living room.
He guided your sore body down, maneuvering you carefully until you were lying on your side atop a plush zabuton cushion, your back pressed securely against his folded legs.
His fingers found the exact base of your spine. His thumbs kneaded deeply into the aching lumbar muscles, applying a heavy pressure that instantly softened the tension right out of your pissed nervous system.
You let out a shaky whimper, the pain slowly draining out of you. "Aren't you supposed to be complaining about how troublesome I am?"
"You are troublesome. But you're my trouble," he replied with a lazyish smile. "And if I let you keep cooking, we'd be eating pulverized carrots. Close your eyes. I'm ordering takeout."
You went completely pliable against his legs as his thumbs continued their heavy, rhythmic pressure along your spine. "Thank you, Shikamaru," you huffed, your eyelids growing heavy.
He didn't say anything too sentimental back. Shikamaru was not a grand monologue type of guy, but he was always there for you, no matter the situation. He stretched his right arm, grabbing a woven fan from the low table to cool the sticky summer air around you.
"Yeah. I got you, baby," was the last thing he breathed before you drifted into a well-deserved nap.
Might Guy
Hiding in the darkness of your bedroom closet seemed like a brilliant plan until your spine locked up against the fluffy mat on the hardwood floor. But you refused to move as the unbearable ache radiating through your abdomen made the thought of uncurling your legs sound like absolute torture.
You buried your face deeper into the thick wool of your oversized sweater, praying the shadows would swallow you whole before he returned.
Too late.
You heard the front door open. It was followed by the relentlessly cheerful voice that usually made your heart flutter, but today simply made you wince.
Might Guy tracked your cycle with the exact same dedication he applied to his eight-gates training. He kept a very detailed color-coded calendar taped to the inside of the bathroom cabinet. He knew exactly what week it was. And worse, he knew exactly what was recommended for the pain.
He had read about it in a wellness magazine and immediately consulted Tsunade to confirm the method's validity. Her simple "yes" was all it took for him to draft an entire dynamic stretch plan specifically for your cycle.
"My beautiful lotus!" his voice echoed down the hallway, the floorboards literally shaking under his enthusiastic strides. "It is time to embrace the healing power of the dynamic stretch!"
You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut.
Please don't find me here. Please, please...
Guy could find you in any crowd, anywhere, at any moment. So when the closet door swung open, flooding your dark sanctuary with blinding afternoon light, you were not entirely surprised.
He stood in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips. His signature gleaming smile softened the second his dark eyes locked onto your miserable form.
His large hand encircled your ankle securely. He eased you out of the closet with a smooth continuous pull, completely ignoring your pathetic whine of protest.
"I am NOT doing yoga, Guy," you croaked. "Let me die in the dark."
"Nonsense!" he declared, though his volume was noticeably dialed down to a rumbling baritone.
He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling your body against his bulky chest. "The Springtime of Youth does not surrender to uterine distress! But," he paused, pressing a kiss to your temple, "it does allow for negotiation."
He carried you to the center of the tatami mat and laid you down lovingly.
"Negotiation?"
"Three modified stretches," he bargained. "Ten minutes of deep breathing to open your chakra pathways." He leaned in closer to finish his proposal. "And in return, I will personally carry you to the onsen and feed you sweet dumplings until you fall asleep in my arms."
"Can we do sweet dumplings first and then hot springs?" you asked with pleading puppy eyes.
"You got yourself a deal, my lotus!" He chanted, helping you stand up straight so you could begin your stretching session.
Kiba
The ruthless ache anchored deep in your pelvis made simply existing feel like an impossible task; your head ached so bad it felt like it was about to explode. You traded your jeans for sweatpants after you came home from work, and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, waiting for the painkillers to finally kick in. You tossed and turned against the sheets, desperate for any kind of release from the discomfort.
You didn't hear the front door open, only the faint click of your bedroom door that barely registered over the hammering in your head. What gave him away was the sudden shift in the air, a clear trace of petrichor and pine creeping into the room.
Kiba leaned lazily against the doorframe, his wolf-like eyes raking over your messy form. A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, you look so hot. Is all that for me?"
What was wrong with men and their weird habit of finding you hot on your absolute worst days? I'm in literal sweatpants.
You didn't even have the energy to glare at him properly. "Kiba, please, not today," you grunted, burying your feverish face into your hands. "This is not the time nor the place."
A low puff of amusement escaped him. He pushed off the wood, crossing the room with padded steps.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he murmured. "I could smell your hormones dropping from a mile away, duh."
You let out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl into a miserable little ball. "Then let me suffer in peace. Bye."
You didn't even get the chance to fully roll away. The mattress dipped heavily behind you, his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you in place as his broad chest pressed closer against your spine.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tongue dragging a slick line against your skin. The sharp inhale he took and the soft heat of his mouth sent a comforting wave straight down your back.
"Well," he teased, his voice dropping into a rough but incredibly suggestive beat. "I know a few ways to ease the ache."
He shifted closer, his warmth acting as the perfect human heating pad against your lower back, but the friction of his hips pressing into you told a slightly different story.
"Besides," his teeth nipped against your pulse point, his feral edge completely melting into an intoxicating devotion. "This drop in your scent always drives me insane."
You finally turned to face him, staring right into his eyes. You batted your eyelashes, your defenses crumbling as he leaned in closer and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.
His left hand slid down your back, his fingers massaging firmly against your lower spine. The heavy pressure relieved the tension for a second, pulling a relieved sigh from your throat.
"Hmm, Kiba. That feels so much better," you breathed, leaning your weight completely into his hold.
"I know, baby. I gotcha," was the only thing he managed to mutter before pressing his forehead against yours. He then dropped his face to your collarbone, biting gently at the sensitive skin. He pulled the thick blanket over both of you, entwining his legs with yours so you were surrounded by his heat.
"Gosh, your body heat is literally magic," you cooed, the cramps finally starting to ease under his touch.
"See? Even when you want to kick me out, your body literally can't resist me, huh? C'mere, let me show you another way to make the pain go away."
Kakashi
Staring at merchant trade maps for six hours straight was exhausting on a good day, but doing it while your uterus felt like a literal war zone was pure torture. You had fought tooth and nail for the Village Liaison position at the Hokage's tower, but the physical toll of your cycle had entirely eclipsed any sign of your ambition today.
You had spent the entire morning trying to hide the gnawing waves of cramps that kept pulling you out of your focus, and you thought you were hiding it well enough from the rest of the tower staff, but you could never hide it from Kakashi.
He was in the building quite often most days, reviewing mission reports or tending to the Hokage’s endless requests. Lately, he had been using those tasks as a thinly veiled excuse to loiter in your workspace, casually claiming the lavender armchair in the corner as his official spot, and turning the pages of his crude orange book while you deciphered trade manifests in total silence. Except today, that silence felt heavy, charged with the weight of his unblinking attention.
He didn't stare, of course, that would be too obvious even for him, but he was a man who noticed everything. He watched the pained flicker of your eyelids when you stood up to reach a high shelf, and how you pressed your lips into a thin line every time you sank back into your chair.
He recognized the subtle signs of physical distress a little too well.
It wasn’t until he looked away from his book to check on you that he finally understood the real reason behind it. When you pulled a small blister pack of pills from your bag, his eye caught the label in a split second, the pieces clicking together right before him.
Oh, so you were feeling that kind of pain.
Now, back in the comfort of your own place after a dreadful day at the office, you groaned, trying to find a proper position in your bed. You pulled the thick duvet completely over your head as another crushing contraction tore through your abdomen and legs.
The weight of the afternoon dragged on until a knock at your front door finally broke the silence.
"Who is it?"
“Hey. It's me," came Kakashi's muffled, lazy drawl.
You dragged yourself out of bed, opening the door just a crack. He stood there in his standard casual clothes, holding a stack of trade route maps you had intentionally left behind at the archives.
"You left these on the desk," he lied effortlessly, because he knew you didn’t have any plans on bringing work home. A quick brow pinch of genuine concern betrayed his casual posture the second he saw how pale your face was.
"Thanks, Kakashi, but honestly... not today. I clocked out thirty minutes ago," you mumbled, leaning your head against the doorframe, far too exhausted to deal with office talk, or any talk for that matter.
“I see… It’s fine. Why don’t you go get some rest? I'll just leave these on the kitchen island.” His eye curved into a softened gaze as he blatantly ignored your dismissal, slipping right past you and into your apartment. You were in too much pain to argue.
“Right. Just don’t… mind the mess, please,” you sighed in defeat, promptly retreating back to the dark sanctuary of your bedroom.
When you finally woke up from a two-hour nap, the simmering coil in your stomach had dulled to a manageable ache, so you decided to stand up and at least tidy up what you could. But the moment you shuffled out into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.
It wasn't deep-cleaned, but the piles and piles of stray papers were organized. The coffee mug you’d left out was rinsed alongside the small pile of dirty dishes from the night before, and the heart-warming smell of a covered bowl of fresh Okayu drifted from the stove.
Sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to a glass of water and a blister pack of the exact same painkillers he had seen you taking, was his worn, overfamiliar orange book. A small sticky note was slapped onto the cover, his characteristically messy handwriting scribbled hastily across the paper.
“Hopefully this helps you laugh a bit through the pain :) It usually works for me. I’ll come by later. — K”
Shino
You were the type who treated physical ailments like a personal challenge. While most people would immediately reach for a bottle of pain relievers, you preferred to raw dog your way through it.
Every. Single. Time.
Today, however, the twisting cramps in your lower abdomen were testing all limits of your resolve.
You were curled tightly on the edge of the living room rug, your jaw locked as you forcefully tried to focus on the scroll in your lap. A vicious spike of pain tore through your core again, pulling a small gasp from your throat.
Shino had been observing you from the other side of the room for the last ten minutes. His dark glasses completely concealed his eyes, but his (hyper) focused posture gave him away. He noticed your shallow breathing and the way your knuckles turned stark white against the parchment every second, and at this point, he'd had enough.
He knew your stubbornness intimately, he knew you way too well, aware that if he offered a soothing cup of medicinal tea or suggested you lie down, your knee-jerk reaction would be to wave him off.
So, he simply bypassed the argument at once.
His ghost-like footsteps barely registered before he dropped onto the floor right behind you. His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his solid chest, his soothing touch already consuming you.
"Shino, I'm fine," you grunted, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
"You are not! Why? Because your body language suggests otherwise." His deep voice was a rumble against your spine. "And you do not have to prove your endurance to me."
He didn't give you the chance to argue. His hands found their way under your sweater and moved to rest directly over your stomach. The hum of his chakra resonated against your skin as he quietly ordered his kikaichu to disperse across your abdomen, completely hidden beneath the fabric layers.
A flowing heat bloomed across your skin. It was far more effective than anything you could’ve tried, melting into your muscles and making you relax instantly. The relief was so jarring that a heavy sigh ripped its way out of your chest, making your hardheaded posture completely dissolve as your head fell back onto his shoulder.
"Better," he wooed, his thumb gently stroking the skin near your waistband.
"Sneaky," you breathed through a small chuckle, closing your eyes to relax under his touch.
"Efficiency requires a silent approach," he cooed, adjusting his high-collared coat to completely envelop you in his warmth.
Naruto
“Shiiit,” you cursed as you dropped the laundry basket. The loud clatter of plastic spilling clothes echoed against the hardwood as you sank down right beside it, completely winded. The pain in your lower back finally peaked into an overpowering cramp.
The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thump.
"I'm HOOOOOME—" Naruto's happy voice rang through the apartment, cutting off into a gasp as he saw you on the floor. He took in the scattered laundry and your trembling form curled on the floor, tension gripping his jaw.
He dropped his takeout bags and crossed the distance in a millisecond, dropping to his knees with panic in his eyes. "Who did this? Are we under attack? What happened?“ he babbled.
His hands hovered over your body like he was terrified he might break you, inspecting you for any signs of injuries.
"Naruto," you croaked, taking a deep breath, "It's just my cycle."
He blinked.
The trepidation fully drained from his face, replaced by pure relief.
"Oh. Oh." He let out a nervous laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Okay. Yeah, yeah, I totally knew that."
He scooped you right off the floor, pulling your frame flush against his chest.
His body ran notoriously hot, so the immediate friction of his skin against yours acted like a giant human heating pad against your cramping muscles.
"I brought Ichiraku for you," he coaxed, carrying you toward the bedroom. He deposited you carefully onto the mattress, pulling the blanket right up to your chin.
"Don't move, I'll be right back."
He sprinted back down the hall to retrieve the abandoned takeout and returned with the brown bags, crawling in beside you to share his body heat once again.
"We are getting you comfortable, and I am feeding you noodles until you feel better," his voice losing its goofy edge and settling into something more tender, more caring.
You didn't even have the energy to say you weren't really hungry as he unpacked the takeout containers directly onto the bed. He blew on a cluster of noodles to cool them down for you, completely determined to heal your pain with pork broth and his unadulterated love.
Sasuke
You were staring at the glass jar on the kitchen counter with burning rage. What should have been a minor inconvenience had quickly escalated into a wave of hormonal fury.
The metal lid refused to budge, your hands shaking as you twisted it again, the friction burning your skin.
“Why won’t you open, you little—”
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, silently watching you wage war against the inanimate object. It was almost funny.
Almost.
But he knew any wrong move would result in that havoc being projected somewhere else, or worse, onto someone else. He was smarter than that; he would not volunteer as a tribute to this impending massacre happening in the kitchen of your shared house.
When you finally slammed the jar down and let out a frustrated sob, he pushed off the wood. He knew your cycle made your emotions swing out of control, way more than you even admitted most of the time, turning the smallest obstacles into total tragedies.
He stepped into the room, closing the distance between you. Reaching past your shoulder, he took the glass from your grip, gave it a single twist, and the lid popped open.
“Thank you, Sasuke…” You could barely look at him. “It's stupid," you choked out, wiping the tears of frustration spilling over your lashes. "I'm just so mad for no reason."
Sasuke set the jar aside and took you in his gaze. He didn't offer a logical solution or tell you to calm down, because he knew that would only make the situation infinitely worse. Instead, he turned you around and pulled you tight against his body.
"I know," he hushed, his fingers tangling into your hair to gently press your face into the crook of his neck.
You gripped his shirt, letting the irrational anger and frustration evaporate. He steadied you right there in the middle of the kitchen, swaying you slightly to calm you down in the ways he knew best.
"Take your time," he breathed against your temple, his reassuring presence absorbing every ounce of your oscillating mood.
Itachi
You had spent the last twenty minutes reorganizing the books and scrolls on Itachi's bookshelf. His diligent nature usually made this a calming task for you, and you took pride in helping him, but today, you were desperate to burn off the stifling wave of hormonal anxiety clawing at your chest.
Every little thing felt too intense.
The binding of a heavy medical text refused to sit properly against the others, and the minor inconvenience actually made your eyes burn with frustrated tears.
“Why can’t you stay put—” you hissed, forcefully shoving the book into place.
"The categorizations are color-coded, yet you have placed anatomy in the center of the summoning section."
You jumped violently, and your shoulder slammed hard into the edge of the wooden shelf.
“Oh, fuck,” you hissed, instinctively grabbing your collarbone as the stinging pain radiated down your arm.
The room fell dead silent.
Itachi was standing in the doorway. You hadn't even sensed his presence until now, but his dark eyes were already analyzing the tense line of your spine.
"Are you alright?”
"I'm fine." You swallowed hard, turning around and forcing a counterfeit smile. "It's just my shoulder. I’m… doing some rearranging."
He didn't even blink.
He stepped fully into the room, his presence crowding out your messy energy. "I did not take you for the kind that would ever lie," he observed, stopping just a breath away from you. "Especially to me."
The gentle chastise completely dissolved your defenses. Your fake smile faded while your hands dropped uselessly to your sides, the exhaustion of your mood swing finally showing.
“Sorry, ‘tachi. I guess my body is just being difficult," you whispered, feeling ridiculous in front of him. "I'm overwhelmed for absolutely no reason.”
He reached out, his long fingers catching your wrist to guide you away from the shelf. With all the care in the world, he gathered you into his arms, wrapping you in a cocoon of his radiating warmth and safety.
"You do not need a reason to seek comfort,” he cooed, his chin coming to rest gently on the crown of your head.
You surrendered instantly, burying your face in the soft cotton of his black yukata. His hand settled firmly between your shoulder blades, his thumb mapping a slow circle to anchor your racing thoughts. He was content to just stand there and hold you together until the storm in your mind and body passed.
🎀 DO NOT repost, translate, modify, or feed my content to AI. All rights to the original writing and plots belong to me!
𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 Readers also liked: SMAU!Texting Naruto characters 2.0 | ✧ Masterlist | Have a request? Drop it here!
May I humbly request C and F for Shino and Rock Lee? Preferably for gender neutral reader. If it's too much, please pick one of the letters for one of those characters and I'll be eternally grateful.
you most certainly may, anon!
c ➜ cum
in the moment, Shino's first instinct is to cum in your mouth (as long as that's something you're okay with. he'll have deadpan asked you about it before you guys had sex)
he'll gently take your chin in his hand and ask you so sweetly to open up for him
bonus points if you give him the puppy dog eyes (which will tear up when he slaps his fat cock on your tongue and cums with a low moan)
even though you two agreed upon it before, he'll probably still sheepishly apologize for the mess...
f ➜ favorite position
any position where his mouth is between your legs is his favorite. he knows without fail how to make you scream
the way shino works his tongue is almost a crime, it feels so good
he moves in such a methodical yet effortless way, somehow always knowing the exact places you need him to be
you probably won't last very long, but shino isn't gonna let you go after just one round...
c ➜ cum
I wrote the C headcanons for Lee [here]!
f ➜ favorite position
any position where he gets to admire you in all your glory, looking like absolute perfection to him
he also likes to have his hands free if possible so he can run them across your body and really feel every dip and curve
seeing the way your face contorts while he's making you feel amazing just makes his eyes go wide. he can't get enough of you
and lee isn't afraid to remind you the entire time how much he loves you and the way you look
