Minato is trying his best ok
Also in canon Obito doesn't know about Sakumo's death until Kannabi bridge so he thinks Kakashi is being coddled for no reason and that’s why he reacts like that. I was gonna add more scenes and reactions of them but I chose to focus on Kakashi and Minato.
I love the dynamic between them and poor Minato is just trying to help but there's only so much he can do with a deeply traumatized genius child soldier.
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You were sure you had dreamed it all.
Thin streaks of sunlight peaked into the room, the signs of a rising sun apparent through the glass windows. You were laying in the middle of a huge, empty bed, the sheets felt like spider-silk brushing against your skin, your hair splayed out like dark waves over the pillow.
You're body ached in places you couldn't even name.
You traced the tips of your fingers over your body, naked in all its glory—the blankets having been kicked off long since and you were in no hurry to cover up. You felt it all like a phantom ache that refused to be banished from your subconscious.
You remembered the way his hands, like vipers pulled you close in an embrace of sin. Laying you down on the bed, undressing you one article of clothing at a time like unwrapping a gift so preciously adorned, while you panted puffs of air, so restless in the face of your desires.
Your hands ghosted over your stomach and remembered the way he had pushed down on it when you tried to sit up and undress him with your clumsy limbs. Remembered his warning glance and the things it did to your head. So impatient, he had clicked his tongue. Your efforts to hasten things only resulted in him growing more languid in his ministrations.
When your fingers brushed your chest, you remembered the way his eyes had darkened, his tongue peaking out of his mouth and you longed to catch it with yours, as your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. Remembered how his fingers worked you up to a high so addicting and then as his mouth, a warm cavern on a chilly night, joined the fray—and how it all came loose. The embarrassed whine that left your lips as you tried to hide your face but he wouldn't have that—he wanted to watch everything.
As your fingers traced up your neck, more memories flood into your mind. The smirk on those sinful lips when you'd throw your head back seeking reprieve from the intense waves of your pleasure and he'd cease the opening you left—opportunist man that he is—and descend on your neck, teeth and tongue lathering you in marks with all the restraint of a starved man before a hot meal. And you'd have no choice but to grasp his hair to drag him up and look him in the eyes. Your man was weak for eye contact and crumbled easily.
The pads of your fingers caressed your face and you remembered the way his breath had brushed your skin as he whispered filthy promises in your ears. Remembered his hands caressing and grabbing as they traveled down your body. The gasps and moan he tore out of you and simultaneously stole as he claimed your lips.
You rubbed your thighs together and remembered the other wicked things he'd done to you.
You were so sure you had dreamed it all, but you remembered it all too vividly for it to be just a dream. Maybe the longing had made you sick.
With a lovesick smile you turned on your side, unwilling to get out of bed just yet—
You ceased all movements. Heart pounding wildly against your ribs.
There he sat leaning forward on the chair, legs spread and elbows planted on his knees. His shirt was unbuttoned all the way leaving his skin bare for your eyes to feast upon but you could hardly focus on that when he was looking at you like that.
The hungry look in his eyes set your senses ablaze. His smile—akin to a predator's—sent shivers down your spine. As if all that action just mere hours ago wasn't enough to satisfy him. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had longed for this too.
You immediately missed the protection of the blanket on your skin.
"Is the show over?" He asked smugly, the air around him turned thick with complacency. Your skin flushed red as you recalled how you were feeling yourself up shamelessly right in front of him!
He stood up, striding toward the bed. His rakish intentions clear in his eyes. Feeling shy under his hungry gaze, you tried to clutch a pillow close to yourself. Keyword being tried.
In two quick motions, he had your wrists pinned above your head with one hand and the other gripped your hip. He pressed his body down to yours leaving nary a distance between you two.
"Didn't I tell you," he whispered against your lips, his voice a raspy and deep baritone symphony, "never to hide yourself from me?"
You whined something incoherent back to him.
He chuckled, the sound shooting straight to your core. His hand on your hip traced a path ever so slowly down your thighs and to your knees where he tapped twice.
"Spread your legs, love." His tone sounded reprimanding yet his eyes gleamed with perverse satisfaction. "Seems like I'd have to remind you all over again in great detail this time."
How could you ever refuse him when he looked at you like that?
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