#naruto smut

[kamuifade]

the way you write is amazing!!!

threesome with kakashi and obito where kakashi is praising you and obito is teasing/degrating you 👀👀👀👀

You hadn’t expected this when you’d agreed.

Kakashi and Obito had been dating for years—quietly, intensely, the kind of relationship that felt solid even when the rest of the world was chaos. You were their friend. Their roommate. The third person in the apartment who knew how Kakashi took his coffee and how Obito left his shoes in the middle of the hallway no matter how many times he was told to move them. You’d watched them argue over mission reports and then disappear into their room for hours. You’d listened to the low sounds through the wall some nights and pretended you weren’t aching between your legs, fingers pressed hard against your clit under the blankets while you imagined what it would feel like to be the one they were touching.

So when they asked—quietly, carefully, both of them looking at you like they already knew the answer—you’d been surprised. But they were hot. You were lonely. And you were so fucking horny it hurt.

You said yes.

Now you had no idea how long it had been.

Time had dissolved somewhere between the first kiss and the moment Kakashi’s cock slid into your dripping cunt while Obito pushed into your ass, stretching you open on both of them until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Your body was a trembling, overstimulated mess between them. Sweat-slick skin, thighs shaking hard enough that your knees would have given out if they weren’t holding you up. Your cunt clenched helplessly around Kakashi’s thick length while Obito’s heavier cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside your ass, the dual stretch so intense it bordered on overwhelming.

Kakashi’s hand was on your jaw—almost tender, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth as he held your face up so your glossy, fucked-out eyes had to meet his. His other hand rested on your hip, steadying you as he thrust up into you in slow, deep rolls that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. Every upward push ground the head of his cock against that deep, aching spot inside you, and every time he bottomed out you felt the pressure of Obito’s cock shifting on the other side of the thin wall of flesh separating them.

“That’s it baby,” he murmured, voice low and warm against your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. “Look at you. Taking us both so well. You’re doing so good for us, sweetheart. Feel how wet you are? How perfectly you open for me? Your cunt is soaking my cock… dripping down my balls. Perfect girl.”

Obito’s laugh was darker, right against the other side of your neck. One of his hands was locked around your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above your hipbone, keeping you pinned between them. The other had slipped between your bodies, two fingers rubbing mean, relentless circles over your throbbing clit. Every time Kakashi bottomed out, Obito pressed harder—right on that swollen, aching nub until your vision sparkled and a broken sound tore out of your throat.

“Look at her,” Obito crooned, voice thick with condescension and heat. “Our sweet little roommate. Used to listen to us fuck through the wall, didn’t you? Bet you touched yourself to it. Bet you imagined this exact thing—being the one in the middle, stuffed full while we decided who got to ruin you first. Greedy little thing. Cunt stretched around Kakashi, ass stretched around me, and still trying to take more.”

You couldn’t answer even as mortification burned in your chest. All that came out was a broken, high-pitched whimper as another orgasm rolled through you—your fifth? Sixth? You’d lost count hours ago. Your cunt spasmed hard around Kakashi, milking him in rhythmic pulses, while your ass clenched tight around Obito. The dual pressure made both of them groan, their hips stuttering for a second before they recovered and started moving again. Slick gushed around Kakashi’s cock, soaking the sheets beneath you, and the wet, filthy sounds of it filled the room.

Kakashi cooed soft praise into your hair, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your temple and down to your cheek. “That’s our girl. Cumming so pretty for us. You’re shaking baby… shh, we’ve got you. Just keep taking it. You’re perfect like this. Such a sweet girl, being so good for us.”

Obito’s fingers on your clit never slowed. He rubbed mean little patterns—tight circles, then a firm press that made your hips jerk, then a quick flick of his fingertip that sent sharp sparks of overstimulated pleasure racing up your spine. “Aw, already crying? Poor baby. We haven’t even really started. Kakashi’s being all gentle with you, whispering those soft little praises, but I know what you need.” His teeth scraped your shoulder, then bit down just hard enough to sting. “You need to be used. Fucked until you can’t think. Until the only thing left in that dumb little head is how full your holes are and how much you love it.”

Kakashi’s thrusts stayed deep and rolling, the head of his cock kissing your cervix on every upward push. The wet sounds of your cunt taking him were obscene—slick and filthy, mixed with the heavier slap of Obito’s hips against your ass. You were so full it bordered on too much. Every time one of them moved, you felt the other shift inside you. Their cocks rubbed against each other through the thin wall of flesh separating them, and the dual stretch kept you hovering right on the edge of another climax no matter how many times you’d already fallen over it.

Your arms were weak. You tried to hold onto Kakashi’s shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle there, but your grip kept slipping. Obito’s free hand came up and tangled in your hair, tilting your head back further so Kakashi could keep looking into your eyes. The position forced your back to arch, pushing your chest out, and Kakashi’s free hand slid up to cup one breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, almost reverent circles.

“Open those eyes, sweetheart,” Kakashi said gently. “Don’t hide from us. We want to see every time you break. Look at me while you cum again.”

Obito’s fingers pinched your clit—sharp, mean, perfect—and you sobbed. Another orgasm crashed through you hard enough that your vision whited out. Your body locked up between them, cunt and ass fluttering wildly, a gush of slick spilling down Kakashi’s cock and soaking everything beneath you. Your thighs trembled so hard Obito had to tighten his arm around your waist to keep you from collapsing.

“Fuck—look at that,” Obito groaned, hips snapping harder, driving into your ass with longer, deeper strokes that forced you down onto Kakashi’s cock every time. “She’s squirting. Messy little slut. Making a puddle under us and still clenching like she wants more. Listen to those sounds—whining and sobbing like a stupid little toy.”

Kakashi’s hand on your jaw tightened just a fraction—still careful, still grounding. His thrusts never lost their rhythm, even as your walls fluttered around him. “She’s not a toy,” he murmured, but there was heat under the softness, a low growl that made your cunt clench. “She’s ours. And she’s taking us so beautifully. Listen to those sounds she makes… so desperate. So good. You’re doing so well, baby. Letting us fill you. Letting us have every part of you.”

The contrast was maddening. Kakashi’s soft, continuous stream of praise mixed with Obito’s filthy, condescending teasing until your brain couldn’t decide which one was making you cum harder. Every time Kakashi called you sweetheart, your cunt clenched around him. Every time Obito called you a greedy little slut, your ass fluttered around his cock. You were caught between them—physically and verbally—and the dual stimulation was destroying you in the best possible way.

Obito shifted his angle, driving into your ass with longer, harder strokes that forced you down onto Kakashi’s cock every time. The dual penetration became a relentless push-pull. When Obito bottomed out, you were forced deeper onto Kakashi. When Kakashi thrust up, you were shoved back onto Obito. You were trapped between them, impaled, used, and so far gone that the only thing left was sensation. The stretch burned in the most perfect way. Your clit throbbed under Obito’s fingers. Your nipples ached where Kakashi’s thumb kept brushing them.

You lost track of how many times you came. Your voice was wrecked—raw from crying out, from whimpering their names, from the soft, continuous stream of broken sounds that spilled out of you every time one of them moved. Your thighs were shaking so hard Obito had to hold you up completely now. Kakashi’s hand never left your jaw, keeping your eyes on his even when your vision blurred with tears and pleasure.

“That’s it sweet girl,” Kakashi murmured, voice thick now, hips starting to lose a little of their careful control. “One more for us. Can you give us one more, sweetheart? Just one more, we promise. I can feel how close you are again. Your cunt is fluttering around me… so tight. So perfect.”

Obito’s laugh was low and dark, breath hot against your ear. “She doesn’t get a choice. She’s going to cum until we decide she’s done. Look at her—cunt dripping, ass stretched, clit swollen under my fingers. She’s a mess. You gonna cum again doll? Gonna show us how much you love being filled by both of us?”

The dual command—Kakashi’s gentle request and Obito’s cruel order—hit at the same time as Obito’s fingers pinched your clit and Kakashi’s cock ground deep. You broke.

The orgasm tore through you so hard your whole body seized. A loud, broken sob ripped from your throat as your cunt and ass clamped down in rhythmic, desperate pulses. Slick gushed around Kakashi’s cock in a messy rush. Your vision went white. Your fingers clawed weakly at Kakashi’s shoulders. You were shaking so hard you would have collapsed if they weren’t holding you up between them, and even then your body kept jerking with aftershocks that refused to fade.

Kakashi groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering as your walls milked him. “Fuck—there she is. Perfect. You’re perfect sweetheart. Look at you, cumming so hard for us… soaking me… shaking apart.”

Obito’s rhythm faltered too, a rough sound tearing out of him as your ass squeezed tight around his cock. “Shit—tight little hole. Taking it so well even when you’re cumming your brains out. Listen to her sob. Listen to how wrecked she sounds.”

They didn’t stop.

Even as the climax crashed through you, even as you sobbed and trembled and tried to twist away from the overstimulation, they kept moving. Kakashi’s thrusts stayed deep and steady, grinding against that swollen spot inside you that made your vision spark. Obito’s fingers stayed on your clit, gentler now but still present, still rubbing slow circles that made your oversensitive nerves spark and jump. They fucked you through it, drawing the orgasm out until it blurred into another, and another, until you were a whimpering, incoherent mess between them—cunt and ass fluttering endlessly, tears streaking down your cheeks, body completely given over to them.

Kakashi’s hand on your jaw stayed gentle. His eyes never left yours. “We’ve got you sweetheart,” he whispered, voice rough with his own need. “Just keep feeling it. You’re safe. You’re ours. Let go. Such a good girl.”

Obito’s mouth was at your ear, voice still edged with that cruel, teasing heat even as his thrusts grew more urgent, hips snapping harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. “That’s it. Keep cumming. Keep taking us. We’re not done with you yet. You’re going to stay full until we’re finished. Until we’ve both marked you. Until you can’t walk without feeling us.”

You had no idea how much longer it lasted. Time had stopped mattering. There was only the dual stretch of their cocks, the contrast of soft praise and filthy degradation, the relentless pressure on your clit, and the endless, overwhelming pleasure that kept dragging you under again and again. Your body had stopped feeling like it belonged to you. It belonged to them—Kakashi’s slow, deep rolls and Obito’s harder, meaner thrusts, the way they moved in imperfect sync that somehow made everything more intense.

When they finally came—Kakashi first, burying himself deep and spilling hot inside your cunt with a low, broken groan, his hand tightening on your jaw as he looked into your eyes the entire time—then Obito a few thrusts later, flooding your ass with thick pulses while his fingers pressed hard against your clit one last time—you came with them. One final, shattering orgasm that left you limp and shaking between their bodies, completely fucked out, voice gone, mind blank. Your cunt milked Kakashi’s cock through every pulse of his release. Your ass clenched around Obito as he filled you, the dual heat of their cum making you feel even fuller.

They held you through it.

Kakashi’s hand stayed on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he pressed soft kisses to your temple and the corner of your mouth. “So good,” he whispered. “You did so well. Perfect for us. We’ve got you.”

Obito’s arm stayed locked around your waist, grounding you even as his cock twitched through the last of his release. His usual edge softened into something almost possessive as he stroked your hip, fingers still sticky from your clit. “Fuck… look at you. Wrecked. Full of us. Exactly where you belong.”

They carefully eased out of you, both of them still murmuring to you the whole time—Kakashi’s quiet praise, Obito’s lower, satisfied murmurs. Cum and slick dripped down your thighs in a messy mix, and the sudden emptiness made you whimper. They laid you down between them, cleaning you up with gentle hands and soft towels, Kakashi’s praises still warm against your skin and Obito’s presence solid and real on your other side.

You hadn’t expected this when you’d agreed.

But as they held you between them, Kakashi’s fingers carding through your hair and Obito’s hand resting possessively on your stomach, you realized you wouldn’t have changed a single second of it.

[kamuifade]

Ong shikamaru pulling out to slap your pussy when you get too needy 😏

You could barely move. Your hips and thighs burned from being folded in the same position for so long—legs forced all the way back, knees pressed nearly to your shoulders, ankles locked in the firm, unyielding grip of Shikamaru’s hands. The stretch had long since crossed from uncomfortable into something sharper and meaner: a deep, shaking ache that lived in the hinges of your joints, the soft vulnerable insides of your thighs, and the tight pull of muscle along your hips. Every time he shifted even a fraction—every time he rolled his hips or adjusted his hold—the burn flared hotter, a bright, helpless flare that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. You could feel the strain in every fiber, your body locked open for him, completely unable to close your legs or ease the pressure no matter how much your muscles trembled and begged for relief.

Your cunt throbbed from being edged for what felt like an eternity. The pulse of it was relentless, a heavy, wet, insistent ache that sat right behind your clit and radiated outward in hot waves. The little pearl had long since swollen past its hood, shiny and flushed a deep, angry pink, peeking out fully as if begging for attention it wasn’t going to get. It twitched visibly with every beat of your heart, so sensitive that even the air against it felt like too much. Your pussy was so messy it was obscene. Thick, shiny trails of slick coated the insides of your thighs from the crease of your hips all the way down to your ass, pooling beneath you on the sheets in a dark, spreading stain. Every time Shikamaru bottomed out, more of it gushed out around his cock in wet, filthy pulses—loud, slick sounds that filled the quiet room, the kind of wet noise that made heat crawl up your neck even through the haze of desperation. Your entrance was swollen and puffy, the outer lips shiny and parted around the thick stretch of him, inner walls clinging greedily every time he moved.

He had been fucking you for what felt like hours.

His thick cock bullied your cervix with every deep, measured thrust. The blunt, heavy head kissed that sensitive ring of muscle at the end of you, pressing just hard enough to make your stomach flutter with a mix of pressure and sharp pleasure, then dragged back across your sweet spot on the way out with slow, deliberate friction. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of pace that never quite let you fall, only kept you suspended right at the edge, your orgasm coiling tighter and tighter without ever snapping. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, half-lidded and calm, like he was watching something mildly interesting rather than the way your body kept trying to break apart underneath him—the way your stomach tensed, the way your thighs shook, the way your cunt fluttered and clenched around every inch of him.

“Shhh,” he murmured, voice low and almost gentle whenever you tried to buck your hips up to meet him. The sound was pure faux sympathy, soft and cooing, the kind of tone that made the denial feel even more deliberate. “I know sweet girl. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Look at you.” His thumbs stroked the soft, trembling insides of your knees almost soothingly even as he kept you pinned wide open, the pressure of his grip never easing. “Trying so hard to fuck yourself on my cock. So cute. Your little cunt’s already dripping down to the sheets and you still can’t stop chasing it even though it’ll get you nowhere.”

You whimpered. The sound came out broken, wet, half-swallowed. Your cunt clenched hard around him in response, greedy and fluttering, the inner walls spasming in tight, rhythmic pulses that milked another thick rush of slick out around his shaft. For a second the pleasure spiked so high your vision blurred at the edges, white sparks dancing behind your eyes. You were right there—right fucking there—orgasm coiling tight and mean in your belly, your clit throbbing so hard it felt like it might burst, your entrance trying to lock down around the thick base of him.

Shikamaru felt it the second it started.

He pulled out in one smooth, deliberate motion.

The sudden emptiness punched a sob out of you. Your cunt clenched around nothing, the empty walls fluttering wildly, another heavy gush of slick spilling out onto the already-soaked sheets. Before you could even process the loss, his hand came down. Three sharp, wet spanks landed directly on your dripping cunt in quick succession. The first one cracked across your swollen outer folds with a loud, wet slap, sending a bright sting radiating through the oversensitive tissue. The second caught your exposed clit dead-on, the impact sharp and precise, making the swollen pearl jump and throb under the force. The third smeared your own slick higher up your mound, fingers dragging through the mess as the spank landed. Each impact sent white-hot sparks racing up your spine and down into your empty cunt. Your hips jerked helplessly against nothing, thighs straining hard in his grip. Tears pricked hot at the corners of your eyes.

“Ah-ah,” he cooed, louder now, almost pleased, watching the way your pussy kept twitching and leaking under his palm. “None of that baby. You don’t get to come just because you’re leaking all over my sheets.” His fingers stayed pressed against your pussy for a long moment, feeling how soaked you were, how your entrance kept twitching and trying to suck something—anything—back inside. He rubbed two fingers slowly through the mess, spreading the slick, feeling the way your swollen folds parted for him. Slick stretched between his fingers in sticky, shiny strands when he finally lifted his hand. Only when it clung to his skin in thick, glistening threads did he line himself up again and push back in.

The stretch was almost too much after the brief emptiness. His cock filled you in one long, relentless glide, the thick shaft forcing your walls open inch by inch until his hips were flush against yours again and the blunt head of him was kissing your cervix once more. You sobbed. Your walls fluttered and clenched around the thick intrusion like they were trying to milk him, trying to force the orgasm he kept denying you, the inner muscles spasming in continuous, helpless little contractions that only made the wet sounds louder.

“There we go sweetheart, there we go,” Shikamaru murmured, voice still that same soft, condescending croon. He started moving again—slow, deep, punishingly thorough. Every thrust dragged the full length of his cock against the same oversensitive places, the head bullying your cervix, the shaft grinding over your sweet spot with wet, deliberate friction. Every retreat left you empty just long enough to make the next thrust feel like too much, the stretch borderline overwhelming. “So good for me when you’re like this. All fucked-out and shaking. You can barely even think, can you? Just this messy little cunt clenching around my cock and those pretty tears in your eyes.”

You couldn’t. Thought had narrowed down to the burn in your thighs, the wet slap of his cock moving through the mess he’d made of you, and the constant, cruel tease of almost-release. Your clit pulsed in time with your heartbeat, so swollen it hurt, the hood completely pulled back, the pearl shiny and desperate every time the base of him ground against it. Every time that happened on a particularly deep thrust, your whole body jerked, a broken sound tearing out of your throat.

He felt the next spike coming before you did.

Out again.

Spank. Spank. Spank.

The third one landed harder this time, right over your clit, the wet crack loud in the quiet room. The sound that tore out of you was half-sob, half-scream. Tears slipped free, sliding hot down your temples into your hair. Your cunt clenched around nothing, gushing another thick rush of slick that painted his fingers shiny and ran down over your ass. Your thighs jerked hard in his grip, the stretch burning hotter with every desperate movement.

“Poor little baby,” he cooed, almost sweetly, watching your face with those dark, calm eyes. “You’re right there, aren’t you? Hurts, doesn’t it? Being this close for so long. That little clit all swollen and neglected while your cunt keeps trying to come on nothing.” He waited until your slick was clinging to his hand in long, sticky strands again before guiding his cock back to your entrance. He didn’t thrust this time—just pressed the blunt head against your swollen, dripping hole and let you feel the stretch as he sank in slow, slow, slow. The head popped past your entrance with a wet sound, then the thick shaft followed, forcing your walls open until he was buried to the hilt and kissing your cervix once more. “But you’re going to take it. You’re going to stay open for me and keep clenching around my cock like the messy little slut you are until I decide you’ve earned it.”

Your answer was another broken whimper. Your walls fluttered around him in continuous, helpless little contractions, like your body was trying to force the orgasm out of pure desperation. The stretch of him against your cervix on every thrust had gone from intense to almost painful in the best way—a deep, heavy pressure that made your stomach flutter and your toes curl. Your thighs trembled hard in his grip. The burn in your hips had become a deep, constant fire, muscles locked and shaking, joints aching from being held open for so long.

He didn’t stop.

Shikamaru kept that same slow, devastating rhythm, hips rolling so every inch of his thick cock dragged against the places that made your vision white out. Your folded thighs trembled harder in his grip. The burn had gone past aching into something almost feverish—muscles locked, joints screaming, yet you couldn’t close your legs even if you tried. He held you open like it was nothing, like the strain of keeping you folded for this long was just another minor inconvenience he was too lazy to complain about. Slick continued to gush out around him with every thrust, running in warm, thick rivulets down your ass and soaking the sheets further. The wet sounds were filthy, constant—the slap of his hips against yours, the wet suck of your cunt around his cock, the soft, broken noises you couldn’t stop making.

Your cunt kept clenching around him in tight, rhythmic pulses. Every flutter milked another thick bead of slick out around his shaft. It ran down in warm rivulets, soaking the sheets beneath your ass, making the wet sounds of his thrusts even filthier. Your clit throbbed so hard it felt swollen beyond what should be possible, the little pearl fully out from under its hood, shiny and desperate every time the base of his cock ground against it. The contact was electric, too much and not enough all at once, sending sharp sparks of pleasure-pain up your spine.

“Look at that,” he murmured, dark eyes never leaving yours. His voice stayed soft, almost fond, the way someone might speak to a pet that was being particularly pathetic. “Still trying to come. Even after all this time. You’re shaking so hard I can feel it through my hands.” He gave your thighs a light squeeze, thumbs pressing into the trembling, overstretched muscle, feeling the way it jumped under his touch. “Does it hurt, baby? Being this close and not getting to fall? That pretty little cunt of yours is so swollen and messy for me. I can feel every single time it tries to lock down.”

You nodded frantically, a broken sound catching in your throat. Words wouldn’t form. Your hips tried to jerk up to meet him again—small, abortive little movements that only made the stretch in your folded position worse, the burn flaring hotter as your body fought the position he kept you in.

Shikamaru felt the next spike the second it started.

He pulled out.

The emptiness was brutal. Your cunt clenched around nothing, fluttering wildly, another rush of slick spilling out onto the sheets in a thick, shiny pulse. Before the sob fully left your mouth his hand was already coming down.

Spank.

Spank.

Spank.

Three sharp, wet cracks right across your dripping folds. The third one landed dead on your exposed clit and your whole body arched as much as the position allowed, a raw, desperate sound tearing out of you. Tears spilled freely now. Your thighs jerked hard in his grip. The sound that tore out of you was raw, desperate, almost animal. Your pussy kept twitching and leaking under his palm, the swollen folds shiny and red from the repeated spanks, your entrance gaping slightly and trying to suck at nothing.

“Shhh,” he cooed, louder, watching the way your pussy kept twitching and leaking under his palm. Slick clung to his fingers in shiny strands when he finally lifted his hand. Only then did he notch the head of his cock against your entrance again and sink back in with one long, relentless thrust that forced the air from your lungs. The stretch was immediate and overwhelming, his thick cock forcing your walls open until he was buried deep and the head was pressing hard against your cervix.

“There. Does that feel better sweet baby?” His voice stayed that same gentle, condescending murmur even as he started moving again—deep, slow, punishing. Every thrust kissed your cervix. Every withdrawal dragged along that swollen sweet spot until your eyes rolled. “You’re doing so well. Taking it for so long. I know it hurts. I know your little cunt is aching to come. But you’re going to keep clenching around me just like this until I say otherwise.”

You were past coherent thought. The only things left were the burn in your hips, the constant heavy throb between your legs, and the cruel cycle of almost-release. Your walls never stopped fluttering around his cock, greedy and desperate, trying to pull him deeper, trying to force the orgasm he kept snatching away. Slick continued to pour out of you, coating his shaft, his balls, the insides of your thighs, running down to soak the sheets in a growing wet stain.

He edged you through another near-peak.

Then another.

Each time the same: the slow drag of his thick cock, the building pressure, the moment your body started to tip—and then the sudden emptiness, the sharp wet spanks across your soaked, oversensitive pussy, the soft cooing praises while you sobbed, and only when your slick was coating his hand again would he push back inside and start the whole merciless process over. Your clit pulsed visibly now, so swollen and neglected it hurt to look at, the little pearl shiny and red, twitching with every heartbeat. Every accidental brush of his pelvis against it sent lightning up your spine. Your thighs shook so hard the muscles in them jumped under his palms. Tears and sweat mixed on your skin. Your cunt was a mess of its own making—gushing, clenching, dripping down to your ass with every thrust, the entrance swollen and shiny and constantly trying to lock around him.

Shikamaru leaned in a little closer, dark eyes still locked on yours, expression calm and faintly amused.

“You’re close again,” he observed softly, almost conversational, even as your walls started that rapid, desperate fluttering around him. “I can feel it. That pretty little cunt of yours is trying so hard. Clenching and leaking and begging without a single word.” He didn’t pull out yet. He just slowed even further, grinding the head of his cock against your cervix in tiny, deliberate circles that made fresh tears spill and your stomach flutter with the heavy, almost-painful pressure. “Beg properly this time and maybe I’ll think about letting you come. Or maybe I’ll just keep you like this a little longer. You’re already such a mess for me… what’s a few more minutes?”

Your answer came out broken and wet, half-sob, half-plea, hips twitching uselessly against the burn of the position while your cunt kept clenching around him like it never wanted to let go—walls fluttering, slick gushing, clit throbbing, the entire oversensitive mess of you suspended right at the edge of something that still refused to break.

[satosugusthirdwheel]

🍑 girls night 🍑

post #2 of the peachy bday bash!!🍑

Hinata Hyuga x Reader x Sakura Haruno WC2.6k

contents: fem!reader, sleepover, threesome, so much oral, strap-on (y'all fw sakura n her strap?? I do), dirty talk, Hinata is a lil shy, Sakura is a fkn tease

an: I had fun with this one ughh is this too much to fuckin ask for??😭 ( @tarospeach wait till I do a follow up w dommy hinata 🙂‍↕️)

bday bash masterlist my main masterlist

Sleepovers with Sakura and Hinata that start off watching TV, lazily draped over the bed while you sip wine and eat snacks…

But always end with you tangled in each other, mouths on skin and moans blending.

They always start fine. A normal girl's night, honest! Just movies, snacks, wine, and a lot of laughs. You don't mean to sleep with each other every single time.

But when you accidentally make a joke that makes Hinata blush, or when Sakura playfully shoves you a little too hard, it makes your breath hitch. That's not your fault.

Or when Hinata's little shirt falls a little lower, the cute purple fabric exposing just a little too much of her tits.

Or when Sakura laughs, and her perfect voice flutters through your ears until she's just shakily catching her breath.

It's hard to ignore.

Especially after you've all drank some wine, cheeks warming up and tension rising.

Sakura is usually the one to start it. Or you.

Never Hinata, the poor shy girl not even knowing how to bring up the fact that she's dying to squirt for you.

This time, it's Sakura.

“This wine's making me really hot.” She says, slipping the red tank top she's wearing up over her head and tossing it across the room.

Nothing but a thin lacy bra and her silky shorts.

Your eyes immediately trail across her skin.

“You know what you're doing, Sakura.” You warn.

“Me? I don't know what you're talking about. Do you know what she's talking about, Hinata?”

Hinata begins sputtering, eyes darting to Sakura's bra and then back to the bed. She always gets so nervous. It's fucking adorable.

“N-no…i-i mean, Sakura, you do know how she feels when you take off your shirt. And..me..”

“No, I really don't. Explain what you mean, Hinata.” She teases, leaning forward, squeezing her tits together a bit with her arms. The little blush on Hinata's cheeks grows, and she nervously covers her face as she replies.

“I just mean…y-you're just in a bra! And it gets us all..bothered!” She spits out, as you lean forward and gently take her wrist in your hand, pulling it away from her face so you can see her.

“She's just trying to fluster you, Hinata. Take a deep breath.” You instruct gently.

She does, but she can't stop staring at Sakura. Her perfect body, tits begging to be touched.

“You're so easy to tease, Hina. You weren't that shy at the last sleepover when you squirted all over my mouth and then i-” Your hand over her mouth shuts her up for a second. That is, until she bites you.

“Ow! You're an animal! You're gonna give our poor girl a heart attack if you don't stop.” You scold, and she laughs. Then, she leans into Hinata closer, breath ghosting over her neck.

“Can I touch you, Hinata?” She teases, and Hinata's breath hitches. She can't even find words, so she just nods frantically.

Sakura finally lets her lips press into Hinata's neck, gentle little pecks at first. That is, until Hinata instinctively brings her hands to squeeze Sakura's tits.

Then, Sakura bites into Hinata's neck, just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Sakura…” She whimpers, light purple eyes rolling back, and it's so fucking hot you have to join in. You quickly strip your own shirt off, then your bra, before coming behind Sakura to unclip her bra as well.

As it falls, Hinata moves her hands to play with Sakura’s nipples instead, sensitive little pink buds hardening between Hinata's pale fingers.

Hinata's head is tilted back, her dark bluish black hair falling softly as she exposes more of her neck for Sakura. You lean over Hinata to capture her lips in a kiss, and her chapstick tastes like cinnamon rolls. Sakura soon releases Hinata's neck and joins you. Three mouths, moving together in a sloppy rhythm. Your hands come to Hinata's shirt, a little button-up pajama top, and you begin undoing the buttons slowly. More and more of her skin is exposed until she's bare, no bra this time underneath the shirt.

You pull away from the kiss, letting Sakura take over Hinata's mouth as you bring your lips to her nipple to suck. She pulls away from Sakura's lips and cries out, hands clenching on the sheets below her.

“They're sensitive!” She whines, and you come off with a pop.

“I know. That makes it so much better.” Your voice is so sultry, and poor Hinata can't take it. She squeaks in embarrassment as you latch your mouth onto her other tit.

“Just relax, you know we'll make you feel so good.” Sakura purrs, brushing a bit of hair out of Hinata's face, green eyes raking over her.

“I-i want to make you feel good, too.” Hinata confesses, quickly, like if she doesn't say it fast enough she'll chicken out.

“Oh yeah? What do you want to do for me, my shy little mouse?” Sakura teases, and Hinata's breath stutters.

Your teeth catch Hinata's nipple, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her arch her back and cry out.

“Ah! I-I want you to sit on my face!” She finally confesses, and you have to pull away at that. Hinata has never been able to spit out something so lewd, the most you've gotten is confessions that she's going to cum, or her nudging her face between your thighs in a silent request. Never something so forward.

“Oh my god, Sakura, if you don't reward her for that by putting your pussy in her mouth, I swear.” You say, and Sakura giggles a little breathily. You tug her shorts down, panties too, and Sakura lets you, getting a little pink in her cheeks as you undress her.

“Of course I'll reward her.” She says, pushing Hinata back so she's lying on the bed, before climbing over her to hover over her face.

Hinata looks up at her with the most desperate, pleading little look and Sakura swears her cunt is soaked already.

“See? When you ask for what you want like a good girl, you get it.” Sakura coos, slowly lowering herself onto Hinata's drooling mouth.

Hinata may be shy when it comes to words, but as soon as she's buried in Sakura's cunt, trimmed tufts of pink hair tickling her face, she devours her. Her tongue swirls around Sakura's clit, mouth suctioning just enough to make her moan, and she grips into her thighs to pull her closer.

You tug down Hinata's sleep shorts, finding no panties underneath.

First no bra, and now this?

“Hinata, you closet freak!” You tease. “You wanted this before you even came to the sleepover, didn't you?”

You slowly run a finger through her slit, sweet and sticky arousal coating your fingers. Fuck, she's drenched.

You can hear her humming her little ‘uh-huh’s right into Sakura's cunt, and you can't let the poor girl wait any longer. You settle yourself between her thighs and start painfully slow.

A kitten-lick on her clit, making her arch her back. Then, a kiss right on that same spot.

Sakura’s hands come to Hinata's hair, desperate and beautiful moans fluttering from her lips as Hinata eats her like a woman starved.

“Ngh, Hinata! Please” Sakura begs, and even she's not sure if begging for more or less.

You finally suck Hinata's clit into your mouth and she squirms, pretty sounds muffled in the sopping folds dragging across her mouth. Your tongue works the little bundle of nerves, slurping and suckling on it like an ice cream cone on a hot day.

“Fuck!” Sakura cries out, grinding her hips against Hinata's face involuntarily. “H-hina- that feels so good.”

You know she's close, her voice always gets higher and more breathy when she's getting close to cumming. And you know Hinata picks up the pace when she gets worked up, so you bring a finger to Hinata's entrance to tease her, slipping just the tiniest bit of the tip inside and watching how her greedy hole tries to suck you in. She wiggles her hips a little, seeking more stimulation as her hands tighten on Sakura's thighs. Your mouth continues it's ministrations on her sensitive clit, and you finally slip your finger inside.

First one, just to tease her, and by the way Sakura gasps, you're sure Hinata is getting more and more turned on. You slip another finger in, and this time you curl them right into the spongey spot of her walls that makes her head fuzzy.

You see Sakura throw her head back, thighs shaking.

“Yes, yes yes yes..” She's murmuring, breathy voice so sultry and soft right now. “Right there, fuck, you're so good Hinata. Such a good girl, ah!”

She cries out, hands pulling at Hinata's hair, hips bucking and body trembling. Arousal drips down Hinata's chin, and finally she lets go of Sakura's thighs and lets her free her twitching cunt from Hinata's eager mouth.

Hinata's moans are unfiltered now, and she claps a hand over her mouth to try to hide them. But Sakura just grabs her wrist and pulls it away, shaking her head.

“You know we like to hear you.”

You reach up to take hold of Hinata's hands and she interlocks your fingers, squeezing tight as she grinds herself against your face. She moans so soft, so high pitched and breathy. You just thrust your fingers in deeper, her silken walls quivering around them. She's so sensitive, it's easy to make her cum. All it takes is a few minutes of hitting the right spots, and she's putty, so you know she's close already.

You feel the bed shift as Sakura climbs off of it, and a moment later you hear a drawer open and the clink of a buckle as she tightens her strap to sit snugly on her hips.

Hinata tilts her chin down and finally opens her eyes to meet your gaze. There's bliss swimming in her light eyes, and her brows are furrowed with pleasure.

You pull away for just a second, lips brushing against her clit as you speak. Your fingers slow their pace but continue pumping in and out.

“You gonna cum, baby?” You tease, and she nods frantically. “Use your words, don't be shy.”

“Please, make me cum…” She whimpers, and you bury yourself between her legs once more, mouth matching onto that twitching little bundle of nerves, flicking and sucking until she's crying out, finally not holding back any of her melodic sounds. You finger her through the orgasm, pumping in and out as her creamy arousal coats your fingers.

Sakura is watching too, eyes sparkling with unspoken desire.

“Got her all wet for me?” She teases, climbing on the bed as you pull your mouth away from Hinata's sopping cunt.

“Hey, no fair-” You start griping, but Sakura shushes you with a scolding look and her commanding voice.

“Hina’s gonna ride me. You get to sit on my face, pretty girl.” She coos, and you practically melt at just that.

Hinata scrambles to sit up, resting on her knees as Sakura positions herself comfortably on the bed. Hinata notices you're still wearing your shorts and reaches towards you to help you out of them.

You giggle when her hands hook in your waistband, and when you're fully naked she lets her eyes wander for a second. She leans in to pull you into a kiss and you hear Sakura suck in a breath from next to you. She loves watching the two of you, almost as much as she likes working together with you to make Hinata squirm.

When you pull away from the kiss, you push Hinata towards Sakura, urging her to get in position. Hinata's cheeks are already flushed, but you swear she almost passes out when Sakura praises her with a “that's it, sit on my cock like a good girl.”

“You've got such a dirty mouth, Sakura.” You scold playfully, as Hinata slowly climbs to straddle Sakura and sinks down, moaning softly as her hands squeeze at Sakura's tits.

“Yeah? I know a way you could shut me up.” Sakura teases, and you laugh breathily before climbing over her, facing towards Hinata, finally sitting your aching pussy onto her mouth. And fuck, it's like heaven, she laps at your clit and your thighs tighten, finally feeling stimulation after getting so worked up watching them.

She begins moving her hips up to meet Hinata as she bounces, moaning into your cunt when Hinata rolls her nipple between her fingers.

You can't help yourself, eyes locked onto Hinata's tits as they bounce and jiggle when she grinds her hips. She notices your look, and uses one hand to grip your chin and pull you closer, entangling your lips as she grinds against Sakura. She whimpers into your mouth, and your tongue presses for entrance tentatively.

Sakura is devouring you like eating pussy is a religion and she's a firm believer, suctioning onto your clit and tongue dancing over your nerves like a paintbrush on a canvas.

She slaps your ass with one hand, humming into your sopping cunt as she feels the smack ripple through you. You continue kissing Hinata, hands finding her breasts to cup them and gently squeeze. She kisses you more feverishly after that, tongue getting sloppy as she loses any remaining nerves. The way she whimpers into your mouth every so often, when Sakura thrusts her hips up a little more forcefully, is addicting. It makes your cunt twitch, walls clenching and your sweet arousal leaking onto Sakura's tongue. She's greedy, slurping up every last bit as if it's a crime to waste it, lips soft and plush as she makes out with your pussy.

Hinata pulls away from the kiss to throw her head back.

“Sakura…fuck, I-its too deep..” She whimpers, but Sakura doesn't stop. You all know Hinata's just afraid to squirt all over her again because she's so damn shy.

“Hinata, stop being so shy!” You scold, breathily. “You're so fucking perfect. Cum for us, please, don't be embarrassed..” You encourage, and she finally lets go, leaning forward into you as Sakura starts pumping faster, setting a brutal pace.

“Fuck!” Hinata cries out, bouncing her ass up and down a few times to match Sakura's pace.

Sakura has the most stamina too, and surprising strength, which is why it's unsurprising that Hinata is turning into a complete slut on her cock, gushing like a fountain. She doesn't cover her face this time, though, too absorbed in the moment.

And that's what finally does you in.

“Sakura, fuck, I'm gonna cum.” You warn, voice shaky.

A wave of pleasure finally washes over you, body trembling, hips grinding into Sakura's face so desperately she probably can't even breathe. And she keeps eating you like she's in heaven, breathing be damned.

When you finally feel the overwhelming pleasure face a bit, and your poor twitching clit is left sensitive, you jolt away from Sakura's mouth, and she finally takes a decent breath.

You're all a little spent, with sleepy little smiles on your faces. The movie is still playing, and you reach for your wine, thirsty.

Sakura gets up to get cleaned up, and you get comfortable with Hinata.

When Sakura comes back, you offer to rub her thighs, and she gratefully accepts, sliding in front of you.

You're a few minutes into the little massage when you hear Hinata speak quietly.

“Do you think….next time we have a sleepover…” She says, cheeks turning red. “I could wear it instead?”

You and Sakura always knew she'd get over those nerves some day…

[hostclubdiaries]

collateral masterlist

mafia!itachi + mafia!kakashi x nepobaby!reader

you were the young, newly eligible daughter of a well-known politician—meant to finish school, marry well, and live a leisure life with three kids and two cats—you were never meant to discover your father's debt. never did you think you'd be handed over like some pawn to settle his score, yet here you were, now being courted by the two most dangerous men in the japanese underworld. you've entered a game you don't know how to play. but you're certain you want to win.

buy me kofi! join my patreon!

ongoing ⁞ wordcount ⁞ playlist ⁞ ao3

chapter one ⁞ chapter two

[kamuifade]

First of all, you’re a fucking amazing writer. Second of all, thank you for blessing us with your work. Third of all, I know I don’t know you, but I love you stranger. I hope both sides of your pillow STAY cold. You’re doing amazing sweetie and never forget that the horny bastards of tumblr LOVE YOU. That’s all have a nice day 🫶

stop yall are too nice to me 😭❤️ getting so much love in my inbox lately it’s insane 😭😭 never thought my little smut blog would get me so much love from the sweetest pookies in the world 😇❤️😇❤️

[kamuifade]

Does you name Kamui is somehow related to the Kamui Kakashi used ?? Like with his sharingan- it came in my mind very randomly 😭✨

My name is based on Kakashi/Obitos technique but my blog (and name) are entirely based around Obito 🙂‍↕️😩❤️

[kamuifade]

possessive mean obito giving you so much pussy slaps for talking to another man, before breeding you deep 🤤🤤

You’d always known Obito was possessive.

It wasn’t the loud, posturing kind most men wore like a badge. His was quieter. Heavier. The kind that settled under your skin and stayed there, a constant low thrum of mine that never really turned off. Most guys didn’t even register on his radar. A polite greeting, a shared mission, a casual wave across the village—he barely glanced at them.

Kakashi was different.

You’d been waiting for Obito outside the training grounds, leaning against the sun-warmed wood of the fence while the late afternoon light bled gold and amber across the packed dirt. The air smelled of dry earth, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of kunai oil. Kakashi had stopped by, hands in his pockets, the orange cover of his book visible in his pocket. The conversation was nothing. Nonsensical small talk about the weather, a half-hearted complaint about paperwork, a dry comment about how Obito was late again. You’d laughed once, soft and easy. That was all.

You felt the shift the second Obito arrived.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, dark eyes locked on the space between you and Kakashi, the air around him suddenly tighter, colder, charged like the moment before a storm. The scent of him—clean sweat, leather, that faint smoky edge that always clung to him—cut through the afternoon air. Kakashi’s visible eye flicked over, reading the situation in a heartbeat. He gave a lazy little wave and murmured something about being needed elsewhere before vanishing in a swirl of leaves that left the air faintly ozone-sharp.

Obito didn’t watch him go. He watched you.

“Talking to him again.”

It wasn’t a question. His voice was low, rough-edged, the kind of quiet that made the fine hairs on your arms rise.

You opened your mouth to explain—it was nothing, just waiting, just small talk—but the look on his face stopped the words cold. Something dark and hungry lived behind those eyes, something that had been held in check for too long and had finally decided it was done waiting. His jaw was tight. The tendons in his neck stood out. You could almost feel the heat rolling off him even from a few feet away.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.

“Come here.”

You went.

He took you home in silence. The door shut behind you with a heavy, final click that echoed in the quiet of the apartment. The second the lock engaged, he was on you—mouth crashing against yours, hot and demanding, one large hand fisting in your hair hard enough to sting your scalp, the other already shoving your clothes aside like the fabric had personally offended him. He didn’t kiss you so much as claim your mouth. His tongue slid deep, tasting of the mint he’d chewed earlier, teeth nipping your lower lip hard enough to make you gasp. The coppery tang of blood bloomed faintly when one canine caught just a little too sharp. You could feel the hard line of his cock already pressing against your stomach through his pants, thick and insistent.

When he finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva still connected your mouths for a second before breaking. His voice was low and rough, breath hot against your swollen lips.

“You know better.”

You tried to speak. “Obito, it was nothing—”

“Nothing.” He laughed once, dark and humorless, the sound vibrating against your mouth. “You stand there laughing with him like I’m not the one who gets to hear that sound. Like I’m not the one who owns every fucking part of you.”

He walked you backward until the backs of your thighs hit the edge of the bed. One firm shove and you were on your back, the mattress dipping under your weight. He followed immediately, crawling over you, already stripping the rest of your clothes with impatient, almost rough hands. Your pants and underwear were yanked down in one motion, the cool air of the room kissing the sudden wetness between your thighs. Your top followed, fabric scraping over sensitive nipples that had already peaked. When you were bare beneath him he sat back on his heels and just looked at you—legs slightly parted, chest rising fast, the soft folds of your cunt already glistening under the low light. The scent of your arousal was unmistakable in the quiet room, warm and musky and sweet.

“Spread them.”

You did.

He pushed your knees wider, then higher, until your legs were folded open and draped over his broad, muscular shoulders. The position left you completely exposed, cunt open and dripping, clit already swollen and sensitive, the delicate inner lips flushed a darker pink. You could feel the cool air against every overheated inch of you. He stared down at it like it had betrayed him, dark eyes heavy-lidded, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice almost soft. Almost. The tip of one calloused finger traced the outer edge of your folds without quite touching where you needed it. “Already dripping and I haven’t even touched you yet. Was talking to him that exciting?”

“No—”

The first spank landed hard and sharp right across your pussy.

Your whole body jerked. A shocked, high cry tore out of you as the sting bloomed across your sensitive folds—hot, bright, electric. The sound of the impact was wet and filthy. Slick immediately welled up and spilled in a fresh rush, a warm trickle that slid down the curve of your ass and soaked into the sheets. Your clit throbbed violently under the lingering heat of his palm.

Obito hummed, almost pleased, eyes locked on the way your cunt fluttered and wept for him.

“That’s it. So pretty baby.”

He spanked you again. And again. Each strike precise, heavy, the broad flat of his big hand covering your entire cunt so that every impact drove straight into your clit. The jolts shot up your spine like lightning, sharp and overwhelming, forcing more slick to gush out of you in thick, shiny trails. Your pussy clenched helplessly around nothing, aching, throbbing, so swollen and oversensitive that every new slap made your thighs tremble hard against his shoulders. The wet smack-smack-smack of his hand against your soaked flesh filled the room, punctuated by your increasingly broken whimpers.

“Obito—ah—please—”

“Please what?” He delivered another firm spank, watching the way your cunt clenched and fluttered, more clear fluid spilling over his fingers. The scent of your arousal thickened in the air, heavy and intoxicating. “Please stop? Or please keep going because deep down you know you deserve this?”

Your lips pushed out in a pout you couldn’t control, eyes already glassy and wet. Whimpers slipped free with every breath, high and pathetic. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean to stand there smiling at him?” Another slap, harder this time, the wet sound filthy and sharp. Heat radiated from your abused folds in pulsing waves. “Didn’t mean to let him hear you laugh?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the overstimulation. Your clit pulsed violently under the repeated abuse, each hit sending fresh waves of heat and sting through your core until you were shaking, hips twitching uselessly against the restraint of his shoulders. Slick ran in thick, glossy trails now, coating his hand, dripping onto the sheets beneath you in dark spots. You could feel every individual ridge of his calloused palm when it landed, every slight shift of pressure that made the sting bloom hotter.

He kept going.

Slow, deliberate, relentless. Cooing down at you the whole time like you were something small and stupid and precious all at once. The heat in your cunt had built into a deep, throbbing ache. Your inner walls clenched rhythmically around empty air, desperate for something to stretch them.

“Poor little thing. Can’t even take a little punishment without crying. Look how messy you are. So pathetic sweetheart.” Another sharp smack that made your whole body jolt. “Maybe I should keep you like this. Legs open, pussy red and dripping, until you remember who you belong to.”

“I remember,” you gasped, voice cracking, the words tumbling out between wet, hitching breaths. “I remember—I’m yours, only yours, I’m sorry—”

He paused, hand resting heavily over your throbbing folds, feeling the way you clenched and twitched under his palm. His thumb dragged once over your swollen clit—slow and mean—and your whole body arched with a broken sob. The contact was almost too much; your clit felt huge and hypersensitive, every nerve ending lit up and screaming.

“You're sorry baby?” he asked softly, voice dark velvet.

You nodded frantically, tears slipping free and tracking hot down your temples into your hair, lips still pouted, voice small and wrecked. “Please… please, Obito, I’m so sorry, I won’t—please just—”

Only then did he move.

He freed his cock with one hand. It was thick and already hard, the flushed head dark and shiny with precome, veins standing out along the heavy shaft. He dragged it through the mess of your spanked, dripping cunt, coating himself in your slick with slow, deliberate strokes. The heat of him against your overstimulated folds made you whimper. He rubbed the fat head over your abused clit until you were sobbing from the dual sensation of relief and fresh torment—the smooth, blunt pressure against the swollen nub sending bright sparks up your spine. Then he lined up, the broad tip just barely kissing your entrance, stretching the rim slightly without pushing in, and held still. You could feel every throb of his pulse against your fluttering hole.

“Look at me sweetheart.”

You forced your eyes open.

The second your gazes locked he thrust in—one long, brutal stroke that buried every thick inch of him inside your soaked cunt in a single motion.

You squealed.

The stretch was sudden and overwhelming. Your walls were forced wide around the heavy girth of him, still fluttering and spasming from the spanking. The burn of the sudden fullness mixed with the lingering heat of his handprints. Slick gushed around his cock in a wet, audible rush, the sound obscenely loud as he bottomed out, the blunt head of him kissing the deepest part of you. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the way your inner walls clung and rippled around the intrusion. He didn’t give you time to adjust. The second he was fully seated he set a punishing pace, hips snapping forward hard and fast, folding you even tighter so every thrust drove deep and relentless. The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin filled the room—his heavy balls against your ass, the slick glide of his cock through your flooded cunt.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice rough with satisfaction, breath hot against your mouth. “Take it. Take every fucking inch like the needy little thing you are.”

You couldn’t move. Legs locked over his broad shoulders, body bent open and vulnerable, you could only lie there and take the brutal rhythm he set. Each thrust punched a broken sound out of you—high, desperate squeals and whimpers that only seemed to spur him on. His cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the thick ridge of the head catching on your entrance on every pull-out before slamming back in with a wet schlick. Slick poured out around him with every stroke in messy white froth, coating his length, dripping down to his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you in a growing wet patch. The scent of sex—musky, salty, heavy—thickened in the air until it was all you could smell.

He leaned over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still occasionally delivering a sharp, wet slap to the place where you were stretched obscenely around him. The dual sensation of being filled to the brim and spanked at the same time made your vision blur at the edges. Your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, trying to milk him even as it struggled to take the relentless pace. You could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through the thick cock stretching you open.

“Still thinking about him?” he asked, voice dark and low against your ear as he drove into you especially hard, the force of it making your breasts bounce and your breath catch. “Or is this the only thing your pretty head can hold right now?”

“Only you,” you sobbed, nails digging into the sheets hard enough to leave little crescent marks. “Only you—fuck, Obito, please—”

He fucked you like he was trying to rewrite every second you’d spent talking to Kakashi. Deep, hard, almost vicious, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room along with your high, broken cries. Your overstimulated clit rubbed against his pelvis on every thrust, sending fresh, bright jolts through your already trembling body. You were so wet it was almost embarrassing—the continuous gush of slick making every movement filthy and loud, the sounds of your body taking him echoing obscenely.

When the first orgasm hit you it crashed through without warning—your cunt clamping down hard around his cock in rhythmic, fluttering pulses, walls spasming as pure white-hot pleasure tore up your spine. You cried out, back arching as much as the position allowed, more wetness flooding around him in a hot rush. He didn’t slow. If anything he fucked you through it harder, growling praise and filth against your mouth as he kissed you messily, tongue sliding deep to taste your broken moans.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock like a good girl. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

You were still shaking, aftershocks rippling through your oversensitive walls, when he shifted, adjusting the angle so every thrust dragged even more mercilessly over that spongy, sensitive spot inside you. The second orgasm built faster, crueler, your body already too sensitive to handle more. You tried to squirm, to ease the intensity, but his grip on your thighs kept you folded open and helpless. Every thrust forced another broken sound out of you. Your vision swam. Tears tracked freely down your face now, mixing with the sweat at your temples.

“Obito—too much—ah—”

“You’ll take it,” he said, voice almost gentle even as his hips continued their punishing rhythm, the wet sounds of your cunt taking him growing louder, messier. “You’ll take everything I give you and you’ll thank me for it, won't you pretty girl?”

You came again with a broken wail, cunt pulsing and fluttering around him in hard, milking spasms, tears streaming down your temples into your hair. Your whole body locked up, thighs trembling hard against his shoulders, the pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. He followed soon after, burying himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through your chest. His cock throbbed thickly inside you as he spilled deep in heavy, pulsing waves—hot, thick cum flooding your already soaked cunt until you could feel it starting to leak out around his shaft with every lingering pulse. The heat of it only made your oversensitive walls clench harder, greedily milking every drop.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours. You could feel the residual twitches of his cock, the way your messy, well-fucked cunt continued to flutter around him. When he finally pulled out it was slow, watching the way his cum and your slick spilled out of your red, spanked, well-used cunt in a thick, creamy mixture. He rubbed the mess gently with two fingers, pushing some of it back inside your fluttering hole, then delivered one last soft, almost affectionate spank to your swollen folds. The light impact still made you whimper, oversensitive and aching.

Obito leaned down and kissed the corner of your pouted, trembling mouth, voice quieter now but still laced with that same dark possession. You could taste yourself on his lips—salty, musky, intimate.

“Next time you feel like making small talk with Kakashi,” he murmured against your mouth, “remember this. Remember how you look with your legs over my shoulders and my hand turning this pretty cunt red. Remember who gets to make you cry like that.”

He settled beside you, pulling your trembling, sweat-slick body against his chest, one heavy arm draped possessively over your waist. His hand drifted down between your thighs again, cupping your sore, dripping, thoroughly claimed pussy possessively, as if even in the afterglow he needed the reminder that it was still his. You could feel the mess of cum and slick coating his fingers as he held you there, warm and sticky and thoroughly used.

“Mine,” he said softly against your hair, the word a low vibration you felt all the way down your spine.

And you, still shaking, still full of the thick heat of him, still aching in the best and worst ways, could only whisper the truth back into the quiet of the room.

“Yours.”

[kamuifade]

🫠 your smut is soooo goood 🥵 may I request shikamaru with a fellow genius reader who people think wears the pants cause of their dynamic in public but at home Shikamaru gets to help her turn her brain off and stop making all those hard decisions 🫠- please and thank you

Shikamaru had never been the type to rush anything. That much had been clear from the start.

The two of you had only been dating a few months, but the rhythm between you had settled into something easy, almost inevitable. Late nights spent sprawled across the same couch, notebooks and mission reports scattered between you, the quiet click of his lighter the only sound for long stretches. You both thought too much. That was the joke everyone made. Two geniuses who’d rather map out every possible outcome than waste energy on small talk. You’d bonded over it—over the way your minds moved in parallel, sharp and restless, always three steps ahead of everyone else.

The problem was that your mind never stopped.

Even when the day was over, even when the apartment was quiet and his arm was heavy across your waist, the thoughts kept looping. Strategies that hadn’t been needed. Conversations that might go wrong. The faint, persistent fear that one day he’d get tired of the noise inside your head and decide it was more trouble than it was worth. You tried the usual things—meditation, long walks, the slow breathing exercises he’d taught you after missions. None of it stuck. Your brain stayed loud.

Shikamaru never seemed to have the same problem. He could shut everything off with seemingly no effort. Sometimes you hated him a little for it. Mostly you just watched him and wondered how he did it.

That afternoon you were spiraling again.

You’d been sitting at the low table for almost an hour, staring at the same page of notes without reading a single word. Your knee bounced under the table. Your fingers kept tapping the same nervous rhythm against the wood. Shikamaru was stretched out on the couch behind you, one arm flung over his eyes, looking for all the world like he was half-asleep. You knew better. He was listening.

“You’re doing it again,” he said eventually, voice low and rough with the edge of a nap he hadn’t quite taken.

You didn’t answer. The spiral had already pulled you under—every possible way the next mission could go wrong, every reason he might eventually decide you were too much work. Your chest felt tight. Your thoughts were a tangled mess of what-ifs.

He sat up slowly, joints cracking. You heard the soft shuffle of his feet against the floor as he came over. Then his hands were on your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the knots at the base of your neck. The warmth of his palms soaked through your shirt, steady and grounding.

“Hey.”

You still didn’t look at him.

Shikamaru was quiet for a long moment. Then, almost lazily, he said, “What if we tried something different?”

You turned your head just enough to see him from the corner of your eye. “Like what?”

He shrugged, the motion easy, unconcerned. “Sex.”

The word landed between you like a stone dropped into still water.

You blinked. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” His mouth curved in that small, almost-lazy smirk he only ever gave you. “You’ve tried everything else. Might as well see if fucking the thoughts out of you works.”

It should have sounded crude. From anyone else it would have. From him it just sounded practical—another strategy to test, another variable to control. And the worst part was that some quiet, desperate part of you wanted to believe him.

You nodded before you could talk yourself out of it.

He didn’t rush. That was the first surprise.

Shikamaru kissed you the way he did everything else—slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. His mouth was warm and unhurried against yours, the faint taste of the tea he’d been drinking earlier still lingering on his tongue as it slid past your lips. One hand stayed at the back of your neck, fingers threaded into your hair, holding you steady while the other drifted down your side, settling at your waist. His palm was slightly rough from years of training, the calluses catching lightly against the fabric of your shirt. He walked you backward toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss, guiding you with the quiet certainty of someone who already knew every step. The air between you grew warmer with every step, the scent of his skin—clean sweat, faint tobacco, and something deeper, purely him—filling your nose.

By the time the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress you’d already forgotten half the things that had been circling in your head.

He undressed you carefully. Not teasing—just methodical. Shirt first, the soft drag of cotton over your skin raising goosebumps, then the rest, until you were bare beneath him and he was still fully clothed. The contrast made something low in your stomach tighten. Cool air kissed your newly exposed skin, making your nipples tighten. He looked at you for a long moment, dark eyes half-lidded, taking you in the same way he studied a shogi board. You could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

“Lie back,” he said, voice low enough that it seemed to vibrate in your chest.

You did. The sheets were cool against your back, slightly rough under your shoulder blades.

He stripped without ceremony, the same way he always did after a long day—efficient, unbothered. The soft rustle of fabric, the quiet thud of his clothes hitting the floor. But when he climbed onto the bed and settled between your thighs, the lazy set of his shoulders didn’t match the heat in his gaze. The first brush of his bare skin against yours was almost shocking—hot, solid, the fine hair on his legs rasping lightly against your inner thighs. He kissed down your throat, across your collarbone, lower. When his mouth closed over one nipple you arched, a soft sound catching in your throat. The wet heat of his tongue, the slight scrape of teeth, the way his breath fanned warm over the damp skin afterward—it all sank straight into your spine. He hummed against you, the vibration traveling deep into your chest.

By the time he finally slid two fingers between your legs you were already wet. The slick sound was quiet but unmistakable. He noticed. Of course he did. His thumb brushed over your clit in a slow, thoughtful circle while his fingers curled inside you, searching. The stretch was gentle at first, then deeper, the pads of his fingers rough enough to create the most delicious friction. When he found the spot that made your hips jerk he stayed there, pressing firmly, watching your face with quiet focus. Heat bloomed low in your belly, spreading outward in slow waves.

“There,” he murmured, the word warm against the shell of your ear. “Feels good doesn't it baby?”

You tried to answer and only managed a broken sound. The scent of your own arousal was rising between you now, mixed with the warmer, muskier smell of his skin.

He worked you open like that for what felt like forever—fingers steady, thumb relentless, mouth occasionally returning to your breasts or the soft skin just below your ear. Every time the spiral tried to start again he would do something that scattered it: a firmer press of his fingers that made wetness trickle down your thighs, a soft bite at your shoulder that left a faint sting, the low rumble of his voice saying your name like it was the only word that mattered. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you grew louder, obscenely slick. Your thighs trembled against his sides. The sheets beneath you were already growing damp.

When he finally pulled his hand away you were shaking. The sudden emptiness made you whimper. His fingers glistened in the low light; he wiped them absently on the sheet before settling over you. The blunt head of his cock slid against your soaked cunt—hot, heavy, the skin silk-smooth and burning against your oversensitive flesh. One slow roll of his hips and he was pushing inside, thick and relentless, stretching you open in a single continuous slide. The burn of it, the perfect pressure, the way your walls fluttered and clung—every sensation flooded in at once. You exhaled hard, fingers digging into the warm, solid muscle of his shoulders. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You could feel the throb of his pulse deep inside you, the slight twitch of his cock as he held still.

For a moment he just stayed there, forehead resting against yours, breathing carefully. His breath was warm and slightly uneven against your lips. The heat of his body blanketed you completely, skin to skin, the fine sheen of sweat already beginning to make you stick together.

“Fuck,” he said quietly. Almost surprised. “You’re so tight.”

Then he started to move.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t even particularly fast. But every thrust was precise—deep, measured, angled so the head of his cock dragged over that same sensitive place inside you on every stroke. The sensation was devastating: the thick slide, the way he stretched you open and then left you aching for the next push, the wet, filthy sound of his cock moving through the mess you’d already made. The scent of sex thickened in the air—musky, sweet, unmistakably yours mixed with his. Every time he bottomed out, the soft slap of skin against skin echoed through the quiet room.

Your brain tried, once, to start cataloguing. How many thrusts. How long this had been going on. Whether he was getting tired. Whether you were being too loud.

Then he shifted, hooked his hands under your knees, and folded you nearly in half.

Your thighs pressed hard against your chest, the stretch in your hips sharp and delicious. The new angle drove him impossibly deeper. The next thrust punched a sharp cry out of you, the sound raw and high. Your eyes flew open and met his—half-lidded, focused, almost lazy even now. He didn’t look like someone who was putting in effort. He looked like someone who had simply decided this was the most efficient way to ruin you and was calmly following through. A drop of sweat slid from his temple down the sharp line of his jaw. You watched it fall onto your collarbone and felt the cool trail it left before his heat swallowed it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and rough, the words vibrating against your mouth. “Just like that, sweetheart. Feel so good.”

He kept fucking you like that—slow, relentless, folding you open under him while his cock dragged over your sweet spot again and again. The stretch burned sweetly. Every inward stroke forced a fresh rush of wetness out around him; you could feel it sliding down the cleft of your ass, soaking the sheets. The wet, rhythmic sounds of him fucking into you grew louder, messier. Your breath came in short, broken gasps. The air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat and the faint, clean scent of his skin beneath it all.

Every time you tried to close your eyes he would shift the angle just enough to make you gasp. Every time your thoughts tried to surface he would lean down and speak against your mouth, his lips brushing yours with every word.

“You’re doing so good pretty girl.”

“Look at you sweet girl. Completely soaked for me.”

“That’s it. Let go baby. I’ve got you.”

The first orgasm hit without warning.

It rolled through you in a long, shuddering wave, cunt clenching hard around him in rhythmic pulses. Heat exploded low in your belly and raced outward until your fingers and toes tingled. You cried out, nails raking down the warm, sweat-slicked skin of his back. He didn’t stop. He fucked you straight through it, hips rolling in the same deep, devastating rhythm until the aftershocks faded and a second peak started building right behind the first. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick length of him; the overstimulation made every drag of his cock feel sharper, brighter.

You lost track after that.

Somewhere in the haze you realized you were crying—quiet, overwhelmed tears sliding down your temples into your hair, the salt of them sharp on your tongue when you licked your lips. Your cunt was dripping, the wet sounds of every thrust obscenely loud in the quiet room. Your eyes felt glassy, unfocused. The only things left in your head were the drag of his cock against that perfect spot, the heavy heat of his body pinning you open, and the steady, low stream of praise he kept giving you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So fucking perfect like this.”

“Taking me so deep. Look at how wet you are pretty baby.”

“That’s it. Come again for me. I want to feel it.”

You did. And again. And again until your thighs were shaking hard against his shoulders and you couldn’t form words anymore—only broken, high sounds every time he bottomed out. The stretch in your hips burned. Sweat slicked every place your skin touched his. The sheets beneath you were soaked, sticking to your back. You could smell yourself on him, thick and sweet.

Shikamaru’s breathing had grown heavier, but his pace never faltered. He looked almost dazed himself, dark eyes fixed on your face like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Like he’d expected this to be a simple experiment and had instead discovered something that left him just as wrecked as you. A low, involuntary sound escaped him every time your cunt clenched around him.

When you came the next time it was with a sudden, sharp cry and a rush of wetness that soaked the sheets beneath you. Your cunt fluttered wildly around him, squirting in messy pulses with every deep thrust. The hot gush of it coated his cock and thighs; you felt it splash against your own skin, warm and unmistakable. He groaned low in his throat, the sound almost pained, hips stuttering for the first time.

“Fuck—look at you. You’re soaking me sweetheart.”

He kept going, fucking you through it until the overstimulation edged into something almost painful and still somehow perfect. Every thrust forced another weak pulse of fluid out of you. Your body felt liquid, overheated, completely given over. Only when you finally went slack beneath him—limbs loose, eyes half-lidded and completely empty—did he let himself follow. He buried himself to the hilt with a rough, punched-out sound and spilled deep inside you, hips jerking in short, involuntary thrusts. You felt the hot pulse of his release, the way it filled you and then leaked out around his cock with every small movement.

For a long time neither of you moved.

Your brain was silent.

Completely, blessedly silent.

No strategies. No spirals. No quiet fear that you were too much. Just the heavy weight of him still inside you, the slow throb of aftershocks, the warm press of his mouth against your temple as he caught his breath. The air smelled thickly of sex. Your skin was sticky with sweat and come. The sheets were a wreck beneath you. You could still feel the faint pulse of him inside you, the slow trickle of his release sliding out when he finally eased back a fraction.

Eventually he eased your legs down and pulled out carefully. You made a soft, involuntary sound at the loss—the sudden emptiness, the cool air against your oversensitive, swollen flesh. He hushed you, one hand stroking down your side, fingers leaving light trails through the sweat on your skin, and then he was gathering you against his chest, arranging your boneless body so you were draped half on top of him.

You could feel the mess between your thighs—his come and yours, slick and cooling, the sticky heat of it unmistakable. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. The solid heat of his body under yours, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint salt taste of his skin when you pressed your mouth to his throat—it was all that existed.

Shikamaru’s fingers traced idle patterns along your spine, the touch light and almost absent. His voice, when it came, was quieter than usual. Almost wondering.

“…I didn’t know it could be like that.”

You turned your face into his throat and breathed him in—sweat, sex, the familiar scent of his skin. Your thoughts were still soft-edged, distant. The only thing that mattered was the steady beat of his heart under your cheek and the way his arm tightened around you when you shifted closer.

“Neither did I,” you whispered.

He was quiet for a long time after that. Then, almost absently, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering against your damp hair.

“We’ll do it again,” he said. Not a question. A quiet decision. “Whenever your head gets too loud.”

You smiled against his skin, small and exhausted and completely at peace.

For the first time in longer than you could remember, the silence inside your mind felt like something you could trust.