Discover Top Posts Tagged with #might gai

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!

「 ✦ Thank you for reading! ✦ 」

#might gai

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#might gai