Yuuji hums happily against your cheek, his teeth giving one last gentle nibble before he switches to peppering the spot with tiny kisses instead. His pink hair brushes your skin, and he smells like the strawberry candy he stole from your kitchen earlier. “Totally,” he mumbles, voice muffled because he refuses to pull away even an inch. “We’re keeping you warm. Super warm. The warmest. Can’t have our favorite person turning into an ice cube.”

You try to wiggle, but it’s hopeless. Two six-foot-something boyfriends are basically pressing you on the couch until you become one, and they’re way too strong for their own good. Or yours. 

“You guys are too big,” you whine, but it comes out all soft and smiley because how can you stay mad when they’re looking at you like that? “I can’t even breathe properly. Naruto, your elbow is in my rib.”

Naruto gasps like you just told him the world is ending. He shifts immediately, but only so he can wrap that arm tighter around your waist instead. “Sorry, sorry! Better?” He plants a big, loud kiss on your forehead. “You’re so cute like this, it makes me wanna hug you forever.” 

Yuuji nods so fast his hair flops into his eyes. He finally lifts his head, cheeks flushed pink and that bright grin of his making his whole face light up. “Yeah… you’re tiny compared to us. It’s the best.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours in a sweet peck, then immediately goes back to kissing your cheek like he’ll die if he stops. “I love you so much it’s kinda embarrassing. Like, I see you and my brain just goes ‘mine mine mine’ on repeat.”

Naruto laughs again, filling the whole room. He rests his chin on your shoulder so he can look at both of you. “Same! Every time you smile at me I feel like I’m gonna explode. You’re too perfect, you know that?” He sneaks in a little bite to your earlobe, gentle enough not to hurt but enough to make you squeak. “My cute little human heater. Wait, no, we’re the heaters. You’re the cute one.”

You can’t help it. A giggle bubbles up even as you’re still trapped under all that muscle and affection. “You two are so whipped,” you mutter, reaching up to thread your fingers through Naruto’s messy hair. He leans into your touch like a big puppy, eyes half-closing in pure bliss.

“Guilty,” Yuuji says without a single ounce of shame. He catches your other hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles one by one. “I’d carry you around all day if you let me. Just so I can keep you close.”

Naruto nods eagerly. “We could take turns. Or both carry you at the same time. Bet we could make it work.”

You groan, but you’re smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re impossible. Both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Naruto agrees, voice going all soft and fond as he presses another kiss to your temple. “But you love us anyway.”

Yuuji snuggles even closer, if that’s possible, his big hand rubbing slow circles on your side. “And we love you more than anything. So just let us squish you a little longer, okay? For warmth. And because you’re our favorite person in the whole world.”

You sigh again, but this time it’s happy. The weight of them is heavy, sure, but it’s also safe and warm and full of so much love it feels like your chest might burst. “Fine, fine.”

the first thing sasuke feels in the morning is the cool breeze coming from the balcony screen. he lets it wash over his bare chest, his eyes closed. he can hear the birds chirping—very clearly, thanks to the apartment balcony basically kissing the forest.

he opens his eyes slowly, staring up at the white ceiling. for a moment, he considers staying exactly where he is, not moving, letting the stillness linger.

it won’t last.

he knows that in 10 minutes, he's going to start feeling restless. he's going to start itching to move his body—to do something productive. that's the outcome of spending most of your life feeling like your only purpose was in your physical abilities. he can't relax anymore. unless he's with you. you've forced taught him that it's okay to not do something 24/7. it's a slow process, but he's grateful you're trying regardless.

quietly, he turns onto his side.

you're still asleep, of course. you have the day off, and it's early. 6:16, the clock reads. his eyes run over your face—the blissed out expression, your parted lips, the slight drool on the corner of your mouth. he reaches out, gently wiping it away. his eyes trail down, to your bare shoulders.

a reminder of the night before, where you'd both been consumed by an intense need for each other. he's still not used to it—feeling that way. he's spent his entire life supressing all his feelings, aside from anger and hatred, and he's been good at it. but his brain stops listening to him when it comes to you.

with a quiet exhale, he sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. the sheet slides off him, leaving his skin exposed to the cold air. he grabs his boxers from the floor, pulling them on, stretching his shoulders once. the large balcony windows are slightly fogged over, and through the screen, he can smell the scent of rain. that's probably why it's chillier than usual this morning.

you wake slowly, blinking the sleep from your eyes. the first thing you register is the empty space beside you—cold where sasuke should be. the second is the temperature. goosebumps rise along your arms as you tug the comforter closer.

you turn your head to see sasuke is sitting on the edge of the bed, back to you. you're about to speak but you pause, taking a moment to really take it all in. his bare back is making you feel dizzy and you're barely even awake yet. his pale skin catching the slight early light spilling in through the blinds. there are thin lines you recognize immediately—old scars, faded but permanent, mapping a history he rarely talks about. his posture is quiet, thoughtful, like he’s been awake for a while already.

he shifts slightly, just enough for you to see the tension in his shoulders ease when he realizes you’re awake.

you sit up, dragging the comforter with you as the cold hits. moving closer, you press yourself against his back, resting your chin on his shoulder. you nuzzle into his jaw, eyes closing again.

“you’re up too early,” you mumble. he exhales, leaning back into you without thinking. “i always wake up at this time.” then, softer, “you don’t.” he tilts his head just enough to look at you. you open your eyes and kiss the corner of his mouth. “m’cold,” you say. “and you weren’t next to me.”

he sighs, turning to face you fully. “you’re not wearing anything,” he murmurs. “get back under the covers.” he stands before you can argue. you hum, bending over the side of the bed to grab one of his shirts from the floor. you pull it on and crawl back under the comforter. sasuke crosses the room and slides the balcony door shut, cutting off the breeze.

he turns back towards the bed, pausing to take in the sight of you. his gaze doesn't linger in a way that's obvious—at least, not to your sleep-addled mind. you only pat the space next to you, wanting to feel his body heat. he quietly walks back to the bed, getting under the covers.

the mattress dips under his weight as he settles back down next to you, not touching you yet. however, when he sees you instinctively inch closer, he rolls onto his side and extends his arm. you're quick to press against his bare chest, head pillowed on his bicep, letting him slide his hand under your shirt.

"i'm not warm." he whispers. you let out a distracted hum, nuzzling his neck. "you're warm enough." you decide. he just snorts, resting his cheek on your hair. "yeah, okay." he mutters. "go back to sleep."

you scoff, pulling your head back to look at him. "why would i, when we could have sex instead?"

most recent fic: fem!sasuke x fem!reader

credits: art by ceejss on twitter | dividers by @doll-fairy

nav

taglist: open

For one as brutal as the self proclaimed avenger, he is surprisingly gentle when it comes to you.

Sasuke doesn’t think, and neither do you, that he possesses the capacity to be anything less than worshipful and reverent towards you. It’s practically ingrained within his being that he has to be careful when handling you. You’re not some hardened ninja capable of withstanding the worst of his touches and the roughest of his handlings, you’re his delicate flower of a wife who needs a lot more patience and coddling than everybody else in the village. And it turns, this translates to being excruciatingly careful and tender during sex. Sessions that last hours until cumming feels more like a chore than a reward. Sasuke holding you tight while doing missionary. 

That was, until that day.

“You once told me that one of the purposes of our marriage was to restore your clan,” You say absentmindedly while serving him tea, and his eye widens. “You decided on a date already? Around this time of the month is my fertile window. Speaking of which! Did you know Ino just go—” He isn’t listening in that moment, his gaze solely focused on the cup of tea you just served him, and then your tummy. He can already see you pregnant, beautiful and glowing and utterly his. He doesn’t think of himself as very fatherly, but does he see you as a mother. How many children does he want? As much as he can, as much as you can handle. And even then, he’ll make sure to hire a sitter if that’s what's required for him to have at least five.

So at night, very kindly taking your fertile window comment as a suggestion. Sasuke sprawls you over the bed. Making sure to get you ready for what’s to come. His hand makes sure to keep your legs spread to accommodate his greedy mouth, aching for a taste of you. Tongue that circles and flicks your clit with the position only a man of his caliber has. Your eyes roll back as he rips out of you the third orgasm of the night.

“W-What’s with you?” You say, out of breath. And he stops his ministrations to look up at you.

“I need to get you pregnant.” Your eyes widen, mouth agape.

“What?”

“Are you being purposefully dense? I need to breed you, ___.” He growls, manhandling you in a fit of rage. His eyes flicker with both lust and need, folding you like a fucking pretzel under his weight and strenght. You gasp, tits squeezing together as your legs almost touch your ears. And he doesn’t waste time, no condom, no lube, no nothing. Raw, with only your slick and his pre mixing together inside you. You throw your head back as he starts to thrust, the mating press making him reach deeper and deeper with every passing moment. You gasp for air, but he doesn't allow you a moment of respite, his movements frenzied, a man possessed, nothing like your gentle, loving Sasuke, he was an entirely different beast in that moment. “I’m going to fill you with cum. I’m going to fuck you stupid. Until all you can think is of me and my cock and the child we are raising together,” He snarls. “And I’ll do it today, and tomorrow, and the day after until you’re pregnant. And I’ll do it again after that, every single fucking year. You’ll carry all of them, you’ll be the mother of my children,” His pace falters when he says that, voice cracking so prettily. “And you’ll like it.”

TAG LIST/PROBLEMATIC TAG LIST

the latch on your window lifted without so much as a click. the cool gusts of night air precede kakashi, as one of his hands settled against the windowsill, swiftly followed by the quiet sweep of his sandals. he lands on your floorboards. the wood beneath his feet never creaked when he dropped himself off through your window with practised ease. the same way you never bothered to look up when the sounds of a shutting window that you never opened reacquainted themselves with your ears.

though tonight, he didn't veer any further than the spot he landed on. he simply settled, almost as if anchored to it.

the ninja in your room remained crouched, with his breathing slow and heavy. his mask and uniform were desecrated with dirt, and defiled with dried blood. whether it was his own or that of another's, you couldn't completely tell. kakashi seems more like a walking riddle than a man right now, with his eyes fixed to the floor, staring idly at the space between his feet. he lacked the piercing glances one might expect an anbu-nin scanning for danger to have. at best, he seemed contemplative, and at worst, he seemed dejected. your own feet meet the floor, sacrificing the warmth of your bed on a pursuit to conduct a more personal investigation.

kakashi indulges your curiosity. he doesn't move away from you, not a single inch. your sight is first greeted with tufts of white hair, stained with whatever the crude world decided to mark him with. he still doesn't move when you bend your knees slightly, reaching downwards to grasp his shoulders. you can feel him shiver at your touch.

he still makes a battle out of looking at you, still appearing insistent on staring at the floor. it felt like the dark circles painted under his eyes, with exhaustion rooted deep into his flesh, were weighing his own gaze down. it only ceases when your hand—as soft as ever—grips the underside of his chin and guides his head upwards.

neither of you spoke. you both didn't need to. and for that, kakashi felt thankful. he withdrew, and often made it a statement to push people away, should he suffer even more loss. he didn't want the weight of grief to grow heavier on his shoulders, as strong as they were. but even so, he couldn't help visiting you when the sun fell, and the moon rose. it felt natural. kakashi couldn't help but to be selfish.

you were his sanctuary. his comfort. his, and his alone.

he tried not to take advantage of your kindness. the time between each of his visits would grow longer and longer, but like a moth to a flame, he would always find himself at your place. he reckons it's some form of self-punishment, but it doesn't feel like that when the lights of your room entice him to come in and make himself feel at home. it doesn't feel like self-punishment when you show him a night's tenderness after a day's terror. the pilgrimages he takes to see you are wrought with pain and isolation, and yet, he doesn't have any regrets taking that troublesome trip.

"come." your voice falls like rain on parched soil.

his heart flutters at the sound of your command. he finally rises, revealing the full extent of his height. the hand you once had on his chin is now holding his hand, tugging it. you guide him to your bathroom, and he follows obediently.

kakashi's towering frame has become the centerpiece in your bathroom. his figure emanates strength and power, though the sullen energy that radiates from him tells you the opposite. you stand on your tip-toes to unclasp his mask, but your emergency inches of spare height simply aren't enough. in an act of mercy, kakashi leans forwards—his face coming closer to yours. he could have very well taken it off himself, but he finds pleasure in your care. he wants you to do it.

pale hair tickles your face. you can hear a tinny sigh held back by his porcelain mask. your fingers slip beneath the strap at the back of his head, and with a snap, the mask is freed from his face. it's merely one of many masks that kakashi has at his disposal.

this porcelain mask conceals kakashi, the shinobi.

and the additional fabric mask beneath conceals kakashi, the man.

he allows you to see him for what he is. he allows you to slide the cloth off his face and draw it away completely. in exchange, you allow him to live without the need to shield himself. you do not gawk at him, nor do you marvel over seeing the face that is the subject of conjecture. you let him be.

"may i?"

it's hard to say no to you. he nods his head without a second thought.

you continue to break him down, with your hands moving to the fastenings at his shoulders where straps kept his armoured vest in place. one clasp loosened, then the other. undone, the armour clinked as it dropped to the floor, next to the mask. it carried the weight of his job; of every mission he survived; and every order he had followed. and now, it was left on your floor.

holster. kunai. sword. arm guards.

one by one, they were all quick to accompany each item after the next into the growing pile of items that burdened kakashi, until all there was left were clothes.

the fabric of his suit folds in on itself as you pull it down. it reveals a muscular carving of skin that's bruised in some places, and scarred in others. he's stood in your bathroom, wearing nothing but his underwear. piece by piece, you had been chipping away at your anbu-nin until all that was left was a man underneath.

and that was the standard whenever he came over. the outside world didn't matter. his names, titles, responsibilities, everything. it got left behind on your bedroom window, and it would be waiting for him at the break of dawn. but for a few hours, but for now, he could be as close to normal as this world allows. he could seek comfort from a person with flesh, instead of talking to an unanswering, cold stone.

with the lightest touch, your knuckles smooth a trail against his torso as you look for injuries. a lot of the old bruises you saw on his last visit have healed, which brings you relief. you can hear your own voice in the back of your head telling him to be careful. maybe he really did listen to your nagging. it makes you smile a little.

"clean yourself up. you need it, kakashi. how about i prepare something for you to eat while you're here? you must be hungry." you suggest.

you have always offered kakashi the freedom to shower alone, but as he stands in front of the running shower, he almost looks pained at the offer. it's nearly comical. kakashi, crowned with the moniker of 'friend killer,' is looking at you as if you've kicked one of his ninken. the same anbu captain who could walk alone into enemy lines without fear, was finding the prospect of being alone more daunting than any mission assigned to him.

your heart aches.

"i know you don't want to be alone… but you know i won't be far, kakashi."

"will you come back?"

you're surprised at how easily that question comes out of his mouth. as if it doesn't go against his moral fibre. he spent years convincing himself that solitude was the safer option, and yet, he wants you to be around. even if it's just for a shower that won't last past a couple of minutes.

"of course i will, kakashi. always."

he doesn't break eye contact while you speak. you end up breaking it with the turn of your body anyways, but you can still feel his stare searing into your back.

"kakashi." your voice is firm. "i'll be here."

and he believes you.

blood, blood, blood.

without anybody to shield him from the danger that is his mind, it's easier for him to be swept by threats of the past trickling into his present. every droplet of water that falls on his trembling skin is red in his head. blood, blood, blood. he can taste the iron in his mouth, he can feel its ugly, warm viscosity seeping into his flesh and staining his skin. it won't go away. the blood he bears for the sins he committed outside have followed him into your fortress of sanity, and it's all his fault. it won't go away.

with his sunken head in his hands, and with the warm water falling onto his hair, kakashi doesn't even realise that tears are falling down his face. he thinks the sound of the shower is loud enough to conceal the sounds of him sobbing, but when he hears the bathroom door open, he knows that's not true, and he knows that he can't hide from you any longer.

his vision is obscured, covered by a film of watery saltiness that makes the world around him seem blurry. he can make out a shape that vaguely resembles you through the tears. he blinks once through his tears, blinks twice, and feelings of safety wash over him as you come into clarity.

cooking for him would have to wait. you don't care about the fact that you're getting your clothes wet when you reach out to him, arms outstretched. his soaking body clings onto you, with strong arms securing you with a brace that so tight, that it echoes his deepest fear: that you will leave him alone again.

"i'm here, kakashi," you whisper in his ear. "it's alright. i'm here."

you don't care how many times you have to repeat this consolation. it would be true each and every time.

the dried blood from the latest mission rinses off his skin, and pours into the drain. when you're around, the blood actually goes away. he feels absolved of his guilt when you're scrubbing it away with a soapy washcloth. his brain cannot bother him with the final screams of whoever he was tasked to kill, so long as your sweet voice continues to hum the tune that he's begun to memorise on each of his visits.

kakashi hated the smell of drawn blood. it was sharp, metallic, and invaded his nose until he could smell nothing else. he's come to relish in your scent, though. right now, it was your shampoo. it smells like sweetness, like comfort, like home—like everything he dreams of when he's out on a mission. a low, rumbling purr vibrates in his chest as your fingers scratch along his scalp. he could stay like this forever.

but when the warm water stops, and when he feels your hands leave his hair, he lets out something of a groan. a dissatisfied one. your lips pressing against the nape of his neck serve to soothe him.

“sorry, kakashi," you speak between soft kisses. "let's get up and get dressed, yeah?”

he doesn't speak, but you know he's listening because he allows you to pat him dry with a towel. his eyes had drifted shut in the shower, but he still doesn't open them, despite the fact that the shower is over. he didn’t need to see. not when you were there to watch his back.

"heads up." you warn.

for the first time in a while, kakashi feels himself smiling, even if it's just a small one. you're patting his face dry with the towel like he's delicate. maybe it's the sheer absurdity of it all. if anything, he should be handling you with such care. he doesn't think he deserves it, but he still lets you massage lotion into his skin like it matters—like he matters. when you're done talking him through every product in your cabinet, you both leave the steamy bathroom and return to your bedroom. you hand him a clean pair of clothes, just for the night, and he wears them, savouring the smell of freshly washed fabric against his smoothened skin.

your bed is soft.

the mattress mirrors your generosity with its size, with it being large enough to accomodate both of your laying bodies. it felt like a luxury to kakashi, but not compared to the warmth of your body. that was the richest luxury of them all.

his arms are wrapped around your waist, with his face pressed against your chest. the gentle heat of your skin sinks into his weary flesh, and it makes him forget about the light ache in his muscles. he counts the lengths of your breaths, and the metronome of your heartbeat in his ear lulls him into a state of near-peace.

it would've been complete peace if it weren't for the way this world functioned. kakashi starts to wonder about what life could've been like if the world was different. he starts to think about what life could've been if he weren't in the anbu; if he weren't a shinobi; if he wasn't born into a system that required violence. he could have this kind of peace every single day, and maybe, he could indulge in you without shame.

maybe, he could bring himself to tell you that he loves you. he could really get attached.

in this darkness, kakashi opens his eyes and shifts his irises to look at you. your sleeping face looks like it's found the peace he thinks about. he moves his eyes to look at your chest as it rises and falls.

there's blood beneath that precious skin of yours. warm, running blood. images of kannabi bridge and cold bodies flash through his memory like lightning, and kakashi, drunk on your warmth, holds your body even tighter to stave off the chills that run through his spine. he tosses, and buries his face in your chest like the past has come to chase him. the images linger for an awful moment, taunting him almost, before your hand runs itself through his hair. the visions then fade into a thick mist, leaving not a single trace behind.

"kakashi…" you speak softly.

he stops moving when you talk, and he holds his breath for a moment. he listens to your heartbeat. the sound of your blood pumping, giving you life. you're here. he's here. and finally, he releases the pent-up breath that relieves him on its exhale. 

"i love you…" the words come out in a sleepy haze.

kakashi leans in to the softness of your breasts, right where your heart beats. rather than tearing your heart open, he presses a kiss there instead.

he loves you too.

a/n: wow this is probably the first SFW work I've dropped on this blog... (😳) this thought has been itching my head for the past idk how many months. ugh kakashi ily

i seriously need to make this google form to see what characters you guys wanna be tagged for, but in the meantime if you wanna be tagged for kakashi works #LMK! i hope u guys like this!