Kakashi is possessive with a capital "P" because he's lost every single person he's ever cared about in childhood. This manifests in following your every movement, because he is supposed to watch you, and guard you. Its because he was assigned to you, nothing more.
It soon turns into standing watch outside your bedroom window, or door, at night. Listening to your breathing even out as you fall into a deep sleep, or your fits of wakefulness, the pattern of your steps across the floorboards. He pretends he doesn't hear the moans of pleasure as you tend to yourself in the night, pretends his body doesn't react. Soon enough, though, he's fucking his fist to the thought of you a mere door, or window pane, or screen between you pleasuring yourself and him...
He would be worse than scum to sneak into your room, and steal your panties to use on the nights he needs more than just his hand. The glide of the soft undergarment is a poor imitation for what you would really feel like, but it's enough. He will deal with the crushing shame after he cleans the spend from his hands.
And when that's not enough he begins sneaking into your room to watch you sleep. Just watching over you, at first. Protecting you. Doing his job. Until the watching you isn't enough anymore. Until he can't stand the sleepy sounds you make, wishing he could pull even more delicious ones from your pretty lips...
Part of you wants to be shocked, seeing the gleam of his silver hair in the dark. He's silent, shadowy, but he did not expect you to wake. However, you weren't shocked, because on the nights when you stirred – the nights you couldn't help but wake and touch yourself – you had hoped that he would hear you. Hoped he would be unable to resist.
And here he is. A straining, desperate attack dog. He obeys your summons closer, as though unable to help himself. Surely a Shinobi of his caliber would have more self restraint? But he does not. Not when it comes to you.
Your hand is pleasurable agony gliding over his aching cock, and he succumbs to the pleasure far quicker than he would have liked; though, your soothing coos and heated licks of your sticky fingers make it more bearable.
He finds himself buried between your thighs, lapping at you with ferocious intent, hungry for your scent. Your taste. Those pretty sounds you make... And he brings you over the edge, over and over and over that way. He almost doesn't listen when you beg him to stop, overstimulated and spent, desperate for more of you.
But Kakashi is a good guard dog, and listens when you tug his hair sharply, moving to sit at the foot of your bed. He allows himself one more touch as you cross into sleep, ghosting his killers fingers over your back. His. This time, he would not leave before you woke. He stays there, at the foot of your bed, watching. Dozing. You belonged to him now.
Isn't a good dog supposed to sleep at the foot of his mistress?
There are worse things than having Hajime underneath you in the morning. You can also read here on my ao3!
Iwaizumi Hajime x F reader, nsfw, Hajime loves when you sit on his face!!
It’s much too early on a Sunday morning, but you find yourself perched on an eager mouth. A mouth eager to explore the parts of you that didn’t become familiar until the night before, after months of that sustained tension that did little to soothe the near constant ache between your legs.
His tongue flattens to run lazily up your folds, stopping to press against your straining clit. It feels as if he’s agreeing to the half-formed thought in your head—he too had trouble focusing on anything other than the idea of your wet pussy.
“Haji,” you sigh into the crook of your elbow at a particularly languid lick. He’s taking his time, parting and sucking your lips until your hips twitch, before moving to lave at your clit. It’s just enough to keep you present, blissfully aware that his hands and touch are no longer just for watching. Somehow in the short hours, his touch has become engraved on every inch of your skin. There’s a sense of belonging, but you still can’t shake the novelty of him underneath you.
Rough hands trail up your body to the curve of your breasts. His hands are large enough to reach around from your back, thumb moving to flick at your gently hardening nipple. You gasp at the sensation, baring your forearms against the wall and grinding onto Hajime’s face.
He groans, tightening his hold on you to begin guiding you back and forth on his tongue. It feels good—much too good with the attention of his tongue and scratch of his chin along the sensitive parts of your thighs. If you open your eyes and look down, maybe you would see the bunching of his arms.
The thought makes your hips stutter, pushing off Hajime to meet cool air. He makes no effort to pull you down, instead perching his hands on your waist to rub circles into your skin.
“Good morning,” he says, voice low against your thigh.
You finally lift your head to look down, and the sight of Hajime with lidded eyes and a smile curling across his wet mouth makes you moan.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"No, K-Kay, you're different!" Eustace bursts, control now utterly out the window. He fumbles with shaky, gloved hands, his shoulders hunch, tears and snot flow freely. There is nothing more that he seems to long for more than to utterly disappear. It is a complete collapse of himself. "You're- you're good, at being the great thief, at being nice to people, a-at smiling, and those are generally! All good and desirable things!"
"Uhm." Well he is right. Kay is all of those things- and proud of it, too! "Okay, but-"
Heloo I love your blog, it's my first time asking but I wondered if you could do sakusa kiyoomi, komoru motoya, and fukunaga with a reader who feels period pains and how they'd comfort them, thank youuu!♡♡
PERIOD PAINS
Ahhhh you are so sweet! Feel free to ask for whatever you like! It really makes me happy to see people enjoy what I do! So I hope you like it! Also, I LOVE seeing a request for Funkunaga, the nekoma boys are my favorite and he is top tier, I looove his personality so i hope i got him right! It is also, surprisingly, my first time writing for these 3!
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SAKUSA KYOOMI
I am 100% sure Sakusa is a “Show not tell” kind of guy, so when you told him about how bad your period pains are he made a mental note out of it. Being the highly organized guy he is, he makes sure to always be ready to support you each month before your period even starts.
He even has a small “period first aid kit” that you can take anywhere you like. In it he holds pain medication, stomach medication (specially if your period messes with your intestines, as it happens), a small water-heated bag, tampons/pads, chocolates, an extra-pair of underwear and 2 bottles of hand sanitizer.
He also always has pads/tampons in stock for emergencies, in the house as well as in a little and sober-looking bag in the bottom of his backpack and those water-heated bags which he makes sure to help you heat up whenever the cramps are especially strong.
Will scold you if you endure the pain for too long before telling him or doing something about it, even if its for a few hours, immediately getting up to help you while mumbling about you being a careless idiot, followed by him pressing a small kiss on top of your head.
If you are regular he has one of those calendar apps in which you track your period so that he never forgets to get all that you need. You wake up to see two pill-bottles of those painkillers that seem to be the only ones that work, a cup of warm tea and 2 packets of your favorite snacks on your nightstand
If you are irregular he always has those things in stock for whenever you tell him your period is about to come/has already started. I don't think he asks you randomly throughout the month, rather than that, he observes your behavior and if he sees you feeling down, bloated or worse than usual (honestly, it could be any constant change/habit you show on those days) he asks if you are on your period or suspect that it is about to come.
And honestly? Before bed, he enjoys watching movies with you sitting between his legs, holding the heated pad to your lower-stomach while resting his head on your shoulder, rubbing your belly absentmindedly (Not that he will ever admit this)
I also feel like he tries helping with aromatherapy. He always likes the room to smell nice so the diffuser is not a novelty, but he keeps special essential oils that he ONLY uses for when you are feeling down, based on your favorite scents.
If you like baths and those help cope with the pain, be sure to ask him to help you get one ready. He will gladly do so, using bath salts, candles and soft music. PERSONALLY I feel like he does not like baths, however, he will sit in the bathroom next to you rubbing your and washing your hair and peppering soft kisses on your arms
FUKUNAGA SHOHEI
Fukunaga is a quiet guy, but due to this I feel he is also highly curious, observant and good at reading emotions, so if the two of you are dating he will definitely notice something off with you on those days, not bering able to help himself from asking as he gets worried about you. That is if you do not outright tell him.
Totally chill about it, being the kind of guy to buy you all the hygiene products you need, always having at least some on his bag and locker just in case. And if you ever bleed out on your clothes while you are outside he will notify you while wrapping his jacket around your waist, right before snaking his arm around you to hold you close.
He likes to take care of you if you are able to stay home. It will definitely involve lots of pillows, blankets, movies, games and hot drinks; and he will not let you work at all. Anything you need he already has for you, and if he doesn’t he will get it swiftly
If you have to go to school/work he will prepare everything for you to relax when you are able to return. But not before sending you off with pain medication, and a small bento box of your favorite meal and a warm cup of your favorite tea (it is canon that he knows how to cook, and I feel like he enjoys doing so too!)
Loves to cuddle, bringing hot towels to warm your lower belly. He likes to rest his head on your stomach, laying between your legs face-down as his arms encircle your waist. He is not the most talkative, however, he enjoys listening to you talk, and will make small remarks and quick jokes every now and then to make you feel better.
He makes sure you drink LOTS of water, filling up your favorite thermos as much as needed and handing it to you constantly. “Drink up…buttercup” with a small smile as you comply.
If the two of you are out with friends and the pain becomes unbearable, or if you look tired he will immediately drag you home “Doctors appointment, gotta go” is all he says every single time, making you chuckle. “Oh yeah?” You question him as soon as you are out of earshot “and what is the prognosis, mr. doctor?” he just shakes his head, looking down sadly “Very somber I’m afraid”, and softly laughing after
KOMORI MOTOYA
Komori, being the sweetheart he is, gets worried about you immediately after you tell him you are in pain, asking you how he can help and even looking for remedies online. Making sure to be ready for the next time your period arrives and making mental notes of everything you do that makes you feel better.
I feel like he has a slightly younger sister, and he immediately bombards her with questions, asking for tips and tricks.
Supermarket trip! The first time he asks you to go with him, telling you to grab all that you want and all that you need, he is paying for all your cravings. What he did not tell you is that he is using it as a way to figure out the things that help you get through those days: The hygiene products you use, the medication that helps you the most, the snacks that you love…everything!
That way he can get all of that for you every month! If you want to go with him he is ecstatic, because that way you can decide on whichever other craving you have, if not, he will text you and get all that you need!
He always gets you a flower bouquet, each and every month, and he chooses them depending on recent events the two of you go through: Sunflowers after you had a picnic recently, roses since you went to the theater, baby's-breath to match the outfit you wore on your last date.
He gives you amazing back rubs to help you unwind, he uses a soft-scented lotion and either plays music you like, or if you feel like talking about your day or something that has been on your mind he is more than willing to have a nice chat
Gets you takeout of your favorite type of food for dinner, cuddling you on the couch while you eat and talk, afterwards, pulling you close, using his hands to gently rub your stomach while peppering your cheeks and nose with kisses
I have decided to, for the time being, upload every three weeks on Fridays. So expect part two of the three-parter to come out Jan. 16th and the third part three weeks afterwards.
sunlight in the temple of aphrodite- h/ades + e/pic snz, a/pollo and a/phrodite
@stargazersnz and i have become deranged about a/pollo. please enjoy this absurdly flowery fic about a/phrodite, snzfucker and messfucker extraordinaire, looking after an ailing a/pollo. not actually this much snz in this one but don't worry, there Will Be More.
sunlight in the temple of aphrodite- aphrodite takes care of an ailing apollo and muses upon how undeniably beautiful he is while sick.
contains: mess, nonsexual nudity but definitely implied sexual thoughts from aphrodite, inducing someone while they sleep (consent established off-screen and pre-fic; further elaboration in tags).
Aphrodite’s palace upon Olympus is beautiful even by the standards of the heavens themselves. Of course, it could not be anything but beautiful, for Love herself resides within it. The palace is not too unlike her temples in Corinth and Kythira; the building is composed of carved white marble and gold, offset by seastone and burnished bronze. All manner of ever-blooming flora surround it, and birds of all varieties pay pilgrimage to her gardens. Doors and windows are covered only by sheets of sheer, gauzy fabric, further adorned by windchimes of seashells and uncut gemstones.
The interior, of course, is full of that which Aphrodite treasures. Trinkets from her lovers, busts in her likeness, little perches for doves. Everything inside is bright, as if doused in perpetual sunlight, and it always smells of crocus and hyacinth. There is no place Aphrodite would rather resides with that which she adores.
Perhaps most adored of all, right now, is the fellow god resting upon her bosom.
Her dearest songbird, Apollo, lies beside her with his head resting upon her chest and one muscular arm resting limp across her midsection. His knee just barely presses against the soft curve of her inner thigh. Sheets of fine silk and warm downy feathers has been strewn to either side of the bed, and its two occupants are entirely nude. The warm weather, along with Apollo’s fever, have made bedding unnecessary for now.
The poor thing has been resting for some time, albeit a bit fitfully. Artemis had practically dumped him at Aphrodite’s door, claiming she could no longer stand his whining and dramatics. And of course, Aphrodite had jumped on the opportunity to care for her ailing songbird.
It had been no struggle at all to coax Apollo into bed for a much-needed nap, leaving Aphrodite free to admire his beauty. Golden afternoon light emphasizes the rich bronze tone of his skin. Well-trained muscles adorn his arms and back. Soft locks of hair the same color as sunlight spill over his shoulders and through Aphrodite’s fingers as she gently runs her fingernails over his scalp, again and again, soothing the poor thing whenever he shivers in his sleep. His entire body radiates sickly heat, and a deep flush colors his cheeks and nose. Oh, his poor, beautiful nose…
Aphrodite could admire Apollo’s nose all day. It is perfectly suited for his face, straight and elegant. A perfect balance of soft, androgynous beauty and sharp, knowing angles. Presently that lovely nose is red and raw at the nostrils, warmer than the rest of him where it presses, just barely, against Aphrodite’s clavicle.
A dreadful cold has taken up residence inside that perfect nose. Apollo had been sniffling from the moment he arrived, and congestion altered the harmony of his voice when he spoke. He would frequently wipe at the appendage with a silk handkerchief. And, of course, he was sneezing. Quite frequently.
It is a melody that Aphrodite will simply never tire of hearing! Watching the swell of his defined chest and the sudden hazy, needy expression that would overtake his handsome face- it was a performance unmatched by anything the Muses or poets could create. Apollo’s sneezes always had the soft yet pronounced quality of a hymn, melodic and lovely and desperate in ways that made Aphrodite’s heart flutter. This is emphasized further by how shy the poor songbird is about being ill. It is unbecoming, he says, for a god of plagues to be brought low by his own element; for the sun to not shine as brightly, for notes to fall flat.
Utter foolishness, Aphrodite thinks. There is nothing so beautiful and perfect as when Apollo gives in.
“Nhhh…”
Aphrodite is torn from her musings by a soft, congested whimper from Apollo. He’s still asleep, but a crease has formed between his brows, and his nostrils flare and twitch.
“Poor thing,” Aphrodite hums as she runs her fingers through his hair again, voice low and tender. “You must be so itchy.”
As if to agree, Apollo twists a bit in his sleep, instinctively rubbing the tip of his nose against Aphrodite’s bare collarbone. Sudden warmth races up and down her body, yet she remains perfectly still, save for the hand playing with Apollo’s sunny locks.
“ihhh….hh!” A note of desperation accompanies the next whine. Apollo shifts again, and Aphrodite admires every new angle she witnesses. The faintest glimmer of wetness shines at the base of his nostrils, which crease and twitch once more. His lips, full and fever-warm, part just slightly as his breath hitches.
Apollo’s whole face becomes a stage for unresolved nasal torment, and it is a beautiful performance.
Aphrodite knows she ought to leave Apollo be, but how can she, with such neediness and desperation literally laying atop her? The idea of letting this tickle crescendo naturally is indeed pleasant, but Aphrodite has never been one for patience. Apollo needs relief from that awful itch, and he certainly won’t find it without some help.
She takes a piece of her own hair between her fingers and guides the end of it to Apollo’s beautiful, cold-ridden nose. Delicately, Aphrodite brushes her hair under Apollo’s nostrils. His nose immediately scrunches in response from even that faint brush, and Aphrodite has to hold back a fond chuckle. Apollo is typically the very picture of poise and elegance, and there is something quite wonderful about watching him come undone like this.
Aphrodite can see a drowsy trickle of snot beginning to leak from one reddened nostril. Her poor songbird must be so terribly congested and itchy…all the better to sneeze all that mess out, then.
Again Aphrodite sweeps her hair beneath Apollo’s nostrils, this time with more speed and pressure. The god’s breath hitches, brow creasing and expression becoming hazy. The tickle is undoubtedly mounting even as he slumbers, but it will take more than just a tickle to draw it out completely. With traces of his snot making the ends of her hair clumped and stiff, Aphrodite gently traces the outline of one flaring nostril before slipping the strand in.
The reaction is instantaneous. Gorgeous, melodic hitches pour from Apollo with increased intensity as Aphrodite tickles the sensitive, inflamed lining of his nose.
Normally he isn’t so easy to induce while ill, but his body is desperate to expel this irritant. Apollo’s shoulders quiver and his expression becomes almost pleading as Aphrodite tickles his nose. She swirls the strand of hair about until one particular pass makes his whines pitch upwards, and she focuses her attention there until Apollo finally erupts with a set of sneezes.
“Ihh’HHTSHhh’uue!” That perfect nose finally achieves relief. Startled into wakefulness, Apollo’s entire body moves with the sneeze, pressing against Aphrodite, head bowing forward gracefully. A generous amount of mess splatters across her breasts, and a heavy, gleaming cord of snot connects his nose with the strand of hair she had used to induce him. “-hhhah! Ahh-hhAH— HHIH-!”Another symphonic swell of hitching. Now conscious and fully surrendered to the sensation, Apollo’s head tips back a bit as he builds up, giving her a front-seat ticket to the performance. His gorgeous face crumples once more, every muscle and bit of breath giving into this undeniable urge. “IHHH’TSHH’hiew! hhh-hh’HIH’PSH’hue!”
More snot sprays across Aphrodite’s bare skin. Apollo coughs a bit, dazed and breathless in the aftermath of that dazzling display. Aphrodite herself feels a bit lightheaded, heart dancing in her chest and warmth stirring within her.
“Bless you, little songbird. My, what a lovely gift to wake up to, those gorgeous sneezes of yours,” Aphrodite praises, voice flush with genuine affection. She brings a single delicate finger to Apollo’s nose and wipes it beneath his leaking nostrils.
“Nhh…lovely for you, perhaps,” Apollo rasps, melodic voice thick with congestion. He winces a bit at the mess he’s made over Aphrodite, and moves to sit up- but she keeps an arm around his shoulders to dissuade him.
“Here, let me…”
Aphrodite plucks a silk handkerchief from thin air and tenderly begins cleaning Apollo, starting with his sculpted chin and moving up over his lips until she finally starts wiping mess from his nose. He flushes red as if embarrassed, but they both know he secretly adores the attention and doting care. “How are you feeling, love?”
“Uh…uhh’TSHh’iew!” Apollo sneezes again in response, muffled into the folds of the handkerchief. He sniffles thickly on instinct, but it accomplishes nothing. “Unwell.”
Apollo must be feeling truly awful, if he’s settling on such low-syllable, non-evocative adjectives. Aphrodite coos in sympathy and folds the handkerchief over. “Poor thing…blow for me.”
There’s a beat of hesitation, but Apollo complies, blowing as gently as he can. It still creates a snotty gurgle that makes Aphrodite shiver, and she hums in appreciation as she wipes his nose in the aftermath of it. “Good, so good for me…” Apollo shivers in her arms, and Aphrodite knows it has nothing to do with his fever. “My dear, how does a hot bath sound? It will ease your congestion and soothe your muscles.”
Apollo looks up at Aphrodite, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed darkly. Despite his ailment, a small smile begins forming on his face. “A bath sounds lovely.”
No further discussion is had before Aphrodite leads him to her bathing chambers- and though she forgets a robe, she is sure to grab a fresh handkerchief on the way.
