sundriplets

[sundriplets]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: Hokage!Kakashi x ANBU!reader

genre: smut?? not really, kind of?

word count: 365

warnings: suggestive undertones

notes: none

━━━━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━━━━

You’re exhausted.

The kind of tired that settles in your bones, carried by an assignment that stretched too long and dug too deep. The Hokage’s office is still lit when you finally return to give your report, the sun setting over Konoha, casting a slight glow through the tall windows.

You’re half in your ANBU gear, mask still on but gear off, when he looks up from his paperwork.

His eyes soften beneath the curve of his Hokage hat. “You’re back.”

You nod. “Mission a success.”

He watches you for a moment too long, enough that the silence stretches and has meaning behind it. Then, with a quiet rustle of robes, he’s up and pacing the room.

“I read the preliminary report,” he murmurs. “You were hurt.”

You shrug. “Just a scratch.”

Kakashi frowns, you can’t see it under his mask, but you know. His hand lifts to brush your cheekbone, just barely missing the faint bruise there. His thumb lingers near your jaw: hovering, hesitant.

“I don’t like seeing you come back like this.”

“I don’t like going,” you admit, voice soft. “But you’re the one sending me out there, Lord Hokage.”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound tired and rough, but warmer than anything else you’ve felt today.

“Then maybe I’ll stop,” he murmurs. “Or… at least keep you here in the village, on domestic missions.”

Your breath hitches as he leans in, close enough that you feel the heat of him even through your uniform. His fingers skim your collar, tugging slightly at the zipper just beneath your throat.

“Is that an official order, sir?” you ask, voice teasing, but your thumping heart betrays you.

Kakashi’s eyes gleams. “No. This one’s personal.”

His lips ghost along the shell of your ear as his voice dips low, intimate.

“Take off the mask, sweetheart. You’re not ANBU tonight.”

You don’t resist when he gently helps peel it away, or when he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand, a low hum coming from him, like he’s drawing strength from the contact. Like you’re his anchor.

Maybe you are.

And tonight, you’ll let him show you just how much that means.

To be continued?

━━━━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━━━━

Sorry for going MIA! Had to prioritize school for a bit but I’m on break so I’ll try to write more❤️

[sundriplets]

𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

genre: smut

word count: ~970

warnings: NSFW (18+), smut (p in v), praise, slight size kink, reader being a little possessive, kind of OOC, basically no plot

notes: inspired by…

❖────❖────❖────❖─────❖

You didn’t know Ushijima Wakatoshi personally. Not really.

But you knew enough. He’s always on the news and in magazines. You saw his face everywhere like he was destined for you.

The arena still loud from the game, the rush of victory thick in the air. You hovered near the back hallway, a VIP pass swinging nervously from your wrist, hoping you looked casual and not like your heart was pounding against your ribs.

He appeared like he always did: steady, towering, still in his jacket, hair slightly damp from the sweat. His gaze swept the hall once, landed on you, and didn’t move.

You froze, breath catching.

He didn’t look away.

It was you who finally closed the distance and approached him. Feet moving on autopilot, drawn like a tide to the shore.

“Hi,” you said, voice cracking a little from nerves.

“Hello,” he rumbled back, voice low and even. His green eyes flicked to your badge, then back up. “You waited.”

You licked your lips. “Yeah. I, um…” You almost laughed at how nervous you were. “I just… wanted to see you. Off the court.”

For a moment he said nothing, just studied you with that same unreadable focus he wore during a match. Then, slowly, he nodded, like he’d come to a decision you weren’t aware of.

“Come with me.”

You didn’t even think. You just followed him. You weren’t thinking straight, who just follows someone they don’t know. Except how could you resist the man you’ve kept a close eye on for years.

The locker room was empty now, cleaned out, the buzz of victory left behind. Ushijima guided you through a side door into a small private room, probably meant for family and close friends.

The door clicked shut behind you.

The air shifted.

You stared up at him, your breath coming faster, heart hammering against your ribs.

“I don’t usually do this,” you whispered, not sure why you were confessing.

“I know,” he said simply, stepping closer until the heat of him crowded your senses. “Neither do I.”

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it didn’t matter.

All you knew was his mouth found yours, warm, firm, commanding, and you melted.

You gasped as his hands found your waist, massive and sure, tugging you against the hard plane of his body. You could feel him, solid and strong, holding back a strength that could crush you if he wasn’t so careful.

When you whimpered against his mouth, he growled softly, a sound that rumbled low in his chest.

“I saw you,” he said between kisses, voice rough. “Every game. Always looking at me.”

You nodded, desperate.

“I wanted you,” he said, nipping at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Still do.”

You barely managed to breathe before he was pressing you back against the door, his thigh slipping between yours. You instinctively rocked against him, needing more friction, and he hissed through his teeth.

“So sweet,” he murmured against your throat, his fingers slipping under the hem of your top. “So soft.”

You tugged at the zipper of his jacket, clumsily, and he shrugged it off easily, exposing his broad shoulders and the sharp, defined lines of his chest beneath a tight compression shirt.

“Touch me,” he said, and the command sent a bolt of heat straight through you.

You ran your hands up his chest, feeling the muscles flex under your touch, and he caught your wrist, guiding it lower, lower, until you felt the hard line of him through his sweats.

You gasped, cheeks heating up.

“You see what you do to me?” he asked, voice strained. “Just by looking at me.”

You nodded frantically.

Ushijima lifted you with shocking ease, like you weighed nothing, and set you on one of the couches. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, tracing the trembling line of your stomach.

“Need to be inside you,” he muttered against your skin, kissing his way down. “Let me.”

“Please,” you whimpered, hips lifting in invitation.

He made quick work of your underwear, pulling it down your legs with a low growl. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, featherlight, and you arched toward him.

“So beautiful,” he said, breathlessly, as he lined himself up. “So good for me.”

The stretch burned, he was big, but he went slow, careful, watching your face with those serious, focused eyes. You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, and he groaned deep in his throat.

“You take me so well,” he praised, voice rough with awe. “Feels so good.”

The world narrowed to the steady thrust of his hips, the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his mouth found every patch of exposed skin, worshipping you like you were something sacred.

It didn’t take long, the heat coiling low in your belly, the overwhelming sensation of him, everywhere. Until you came undone, crying out his name against his mouth as you came apart.

He followed soon after, shuddering against you, pressing his forehead to yours as he spilled inside you with a broken moan.

For a moment, the only sound was your breathing, harsh and tangled together.

Ushijima cupped your face in his hand, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheekbone.

“Hey” he said, voice low and serious.

“What’s your name again?”

❖────❖────❖────❖─────❖

[sundriplets]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

pairing: Timeskip!Bokuto x reader

genre: smut

word count: 948

warnings: oral sex (f!receiving), semi-public setting, mild teasing, praise kink

notes: reader and Bokuto are in an established relationship, reader has female genitalia, not proofread so sorry for any misspellings!

╭──────────.★..─╮

18+ CONTENT BELOW

╰─..★.──────────╯

The locker room is full of energy after the Black Jackals’ win, the air heavy with sweat, adrenaline, and victory. You’re waiting just outside, sat on a bench near the team’s private exit, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, but your attention’s not really on the screen.

You’re waiting for him.

The heavy door swings open, and Bokuto strides out. Hair damp, jersey hanging from his shoulder, and that wide, beaming grin that still makes your stomach churn no matter how many times you see it.

“Y/N!” he calls out the moment he sees you, his loud voice echoing through the hallway. “Did you see me spike in the second set? I was on fire!”

“I saw,” you laugh, standing up. “You were amazing.” How couldn’t you have noticed, it was like whenever he played your eyes were glued to him.

He practically skips over to you, dropping his gym bag and scooping you into a tight hug before you can even open your mouth to protest. “I thought about you the whole time,” he says into your hair, tone softening for just a moment. “I wanted to impress you.”

“You always do.” You lean back to look at him, cupping his flushed face in your hands with a small smile. His skin is hot from the match, pulse still racing, eyes wild with leftover energy. “You need to cool off.” You add.

He quirks an eyebrow. “You offering to help with that?”

You arch a brow right back at him. “Maybe.”

And just like that, the air shifts.

He’s still grinning, but there’s passion behind it now, something sharp and hungry under the surface. Bokuto grabs your hand and leads you down the hallway, not toward the exit, but toward the team’s private lounge.

“You know they don’t come back in here for a while,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “Atsumu said they were getting a late dinner.”

“And if they do come back early?” You said, voice low.

He shoots you a brazen look. “Then they’ll know I’ve still got stamina after three sets.”

You roll your eyes, but your body is already reacting, warmth pooling in your stomach, breath catching when he shuts the lounge door behind you and locks it with a click. The room is dim, quiet, and you’re barely two steps in when he crowds you back against the wall.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he mutters, lips brushing your neck. “You were in my head every time I jumped. Every time I hit that ball, I imagined it was someone looking at you in the wrong way.”

“Possessive much?” You said with a small moan that you tried to hold back.

“Damn right I am.” His mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s all heat and want, tongue sliding in as his hands grip your hips tight. He presses you into the wall like he can’t get close enough, broad chest flush against you, muscles tight and trembling from exertion and need.

You tug at the bottom of his jersey, and he lifts his arms, letting you pull it off in one fluid motion. His body is ridiculous, all hard lines, glistening skin, and flexed muscle. You run your hands over his torso, nails scraping lightly, and he shudders against you.

He lets out a low groan. “Y/N…”

You don’t have time to respond before he drops to his knees.

“I need to taste you,” he says, voice gone hoarse, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “Right now.”

Your breath stutters as he tugs down your pants and underwear in one swift move, large hands guiding your thighs over his muscled shoulders like he’s done it a hundred times, like he knows exactly how you like it.

And he does.

Bokuto licks into your cunt with unrelenting focus, the kind of intensity he brings to the court. Determined, thorough, almost competitive. He groans as you grind and squirm against his tongue, strong arms locking you in place while he devours you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The flat of his tongue pressing against your clit making you moan.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates against your core and your knees nearly give out. He keeps you steady, murmuring praise between licks .

“So sweet”, “So perfect”, “This is all mine.”

You cum hard against his mouth, biting your lip to keep from crying out too loud. He doesn’t stop until your legs are shaking and you’re whining his name, only then standing up and wiping your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, looking way too smug for someone who just brought you to the edge and back.

“Still got energy for more?” he asks, undoing his shorts.

You reach for him, pulling him in for another kiss, this one messier and more desperate.

“You better not hold back,” you mumble against his lips.

His laugh is pure delight. “Baby, I just won a match. I’m in my prime.”

And he proves it , again and again, until you’re breathless and pussy aching, sprawled across one of the lounge couches with him wrapped around you like he can’t bear to let go.

Once you had both came down from your highs he relaxed into you. “Best post-game ritual ever,” he mutters into your hair.

You hum, drowsy and limp in his arms. “Next time, maybe try waiting until we’re home.”

“Next time,” he says, nuzzling your neck with a smile, “you shouldn’t wear that tight shirt. I almost lost focus in the second set.”

You laugh, already planning on doing it again.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

[sundriplets]

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠

pairing: Shikamaru Nara x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 510

warnings: none

notes: none

──────── ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ────────

The sun was barely beginning to set behind the trees, casting a few shadows over the training field as you sat cross-legged on the grass, tossing a kunai up into the air and catching it lazily.

“You’re early,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The slight rasp in his tone, the way his footsteps were practically silent, it was Shikamaru, and he was unusually punctual for someone who swears everything is a drag.

“I got bored,” you replied, catching the kunai one last time and standing up. “Figured you’d appreciate me making the effort for once.”

Shikamaru smirked faintly, hands tucked deep into his pockets. “How troublesome of you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a small grin forming on your face. That was just his way. Sarcastic, blunt, but never mean. And somehow, you’d grown to find his detached tone comforting.

“Are we actually going to train,” you asked cheekily, “or are we going to sit around watching clouds again?”

He walked past you, nodding toward the far side of the field. “We’ll train. Just… let’s keep things to a minimum. I’m not in the mood to break a sweat today.”

“Oh, what a surprise.”

He glanced back at you, a little more amused than usual. “Careful. You keep talking like that, and I might actually start enjoying your presence.”

You paused for half a second, caught off guard. Shikamaru rarely flirted, hell, he barely did anything unless he had to. Your chest tightened slightly, unsure if it was a joke or if he meant something by it.

But before you could respond, he stopped walking and turned to face you. The wind blew through the trees behind him, rustling the grass with a soft breeze.

“You’re not like most people,” he said, voice quieter now. “You don’t make a big deal out of things. You don’t try to push. It’s… less of a drag being around you.”

You tilted your head. Now had anyone else said that, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but from Shikamaru that’s basically a proposal. “That your way of saying you like me, Nara?”

He scratched the back of his head, eyes glancing up at the sky for refuge. “Tch… yeah. I guess it is.”

The silence between you lasted a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. Just, thoughtful. Comfortable.

You took a few small steps toward him until you were standing just close enough to see the tension in his shoulders ease. “Well, good,” you said simply. “Because I like you too.”

Shikamaru blinked. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… thought it’d be a little more complicated.”

You chuckled and said sarcastically, “Didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

“Don’t push it,” he muttered, though the smirk on his face said otherwise.

The two of you stood there for a while, not saying much. You didn’t need to. The sky above turned orange and purple, the shadows growing longer, and for once, Shikamaru didn’t seem in a rush to go watch the clouds alone.

──────── ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ────────

[sundriplets]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing: suna rintarou × gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 451

warnings: none

notes: reader is a volleyball player at Inarizaki

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✦ ✧ ✦

The gym echoed with the sound of volleyballs hitting the floor and shoes squeaking against polished wood. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavily as Coach blew the final whistle of practice. The players around you groaned in relief and began collecting stray volleyballs, the tension melting into laughter.

You spotted Suna Rintarou leaning against the wall across the gym, lazily scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just finished his own intense practice. He looked up as if he could sense you staring. Somehow he always knew when you were. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

“You stalking me, Y/N?” he called out, voice laced with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, tossing the towel you had been wiping your sweat with over your shoulder. “You wish, Suna. Just wondering why a lazy guy like you’s still hanging around after practice.”

He pushed off the wall and walked over, his bag slung over one shoulder. “Maybe I’m waiting for someone.” You couldn’t get enough of how he’d say such flirty things with a straight face.

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “Oh? Who?”

“You,” he said easily, eyes twinkling with that relaxed, unreadable expression he always wore. “You promised me something from the vending machine after practice, remember?”

“I did not- ” you started before cutting yourself off, the memory hit you. Earlier that week, you’d joked about buying him his favorite pop if he managed to not slack off during his next match. To your surprise, he took that seriously.

“…Okay, maybe I did,” you admitted, with a sigh.

“See? I remember everything when snacks are involved.”

You both walked toward the vending machines together, shoulders brushing. You tried not to let the contact fluster you, but Suna noticed. Of course he did.

“Your face is red,” he teased. “Tired or just nervous being around me?”

“Oh, shut up,” you mumbled, pressing at the vending machine buttons. “I’m just hot from practice.”

Suna accepted the can of pop you handed him, fingers brushing over yours longer than necessary. “Sure,” he said, voice low. “But for the record… i don’t mind if you get flustered around me. It’s cute.”

You stared at him, in silence from the shock. “You’re ridiculous,” you finally said, but your voice was softer, your heart fluttering annoyingly fast.

“Maybe. But you still bought me a drink,” he said, leaning closer. “So who’s really the ridiculous one?”

You nudged him with your elbow, but you couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face. And when he grinned back, just enough for you to catch it, it felt like a victory.

You shook your head and turned away, “You’re something else, Suna.”

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦