#naruto eventual smut

[gingerkunoichii]

FANART 1 2 (i love you) After leaving your old university under a cloud of scandal, you arrive at Konoha University, ready for a fresh start.

Once queen of the party scene, your killer smile and sharp edge left a trail of broken hearts. The drug fuelled nights, bad decisions, and neon-lit chaos follows you. Alpha Kappa Blossom, a sorority with varying characters welcomes you and you feel like you've known these people for a lifetime very quickly—but nothing comes without strings.

Your past still lingers. No matter how loud the music and whatever you take to sedate yourself from reality, you can’t outrun the fallout.

// WARNINGS // Recreational Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Alcohol, Drinking to Cope, Partying, Greek Life, Fraternities & Sororities, Modern AU, Drunk Sex, Bad Decisions, Fratboy Akatsuki, Fratboy Konoha 11, Most Men Being Fuckboys, Sisterhood, Casual Sex, Drug-Induced Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Toxic, Abusive Relationships, Blackmail, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Huge General Trigger Warning

PLEASE READ TAGS ON AO3 FOR MORE INFO

Chapter 1 You had anticipated your first day at Konoha University would be awkward, but reality surpassed expectation in the worst way. The air outside the dorms was thick with the stale scent of overcooked cafeteria food, cigarette smoke, and restless energy. Faded banners proclaiming "Welcome New Students!" hung askew from upper windows, their colours washed out by time and indifference. You adjusted the strap of your worn duffel bag, its weight biting into your shoulder, and wondered—for the hundredth time—if transferring there had been a mistake. This was supposed to be a fresh start, but now it felt like stepping into a world you were never meant to enter.

The dormitory loomed ahead, stark and institutional, its white paint peeling in long strips and identical windows staring blankly into the distance. Swallowing the knot of unease tightening in your chest, you forced yourself through the entrance. The lobby was bedlam—students wandering aimlessly, parents arguing with stressed-out staff, and someone half-heartedly strumming an acoustic guitar in the corner like they were auditioning for a coming-of-age film. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.

Your dorm assignment paper read: Room 314B - Nara Hall. You climbed a narrow, groaning staircase, your heart pounding for no good reason except that everything about this place felt like it was closing in on you. The third-floor hallway smelled faintly of musty carpet and a failing attempt at floral air freshener. After passing a series of identical, chipped doors, you found your room at the very end of the hall.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed the door open.

The room was... cramped. Two twin beds flanked opposite walls, accompanied by mismatched furniture that looked like it had been salvaged from a thrift-store clearance bin. A single window offered a grim view of the cracked, sun-bleached dorm parking lot. One side of the room was starkly empty—but the other side assaulted the senses.

Posters of conspiracy theories and what you assumed to be arcane symbols smothered the walls, tangled with string lights and Polaroid photos of abandoned playgrounds and distorted forest landscapes. A life-sized cardboard cut out of a low-budget sci-fi character stood vigil by the window, holding a sign that read “WELCOME TO THE VOID.”

And there she was—your roommate.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, clad in striped knee-high socks and a worn T-shirt reading “I Talk to Ghosts” in dripping, horror-themed font. Her choppy, dark hair was pinned back with mismatched coffin-shaped clips. As she meticulously painted her nails with toxic-black polish, she hummed an off-key tune.

Her heavily lined eyes snapped up as you entered, widening theatrically.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, dropping the nail polish onto a precariously stacked pile of books labeled Paranormal Phenomena: Volumes 1-6. “You must be the new girl, I was told by the TA that you’d transferred here into second year! I knew you’d show up.”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah. I’m Y/N.”

She leapt from her bed with unsettling enthusiasm. “I’m Izumi! But my coven calls me ‘Nightshade.’ Well, it’s not officially a coven… yet. But it will be. Eventually.”

You just… stared.

“I manifested you,” she continued proudly, gesturing toward a battered Ouija board displayed prominently on her desk. “I did a summoning ritual for a ‘kindred spirit,’ and—” she pointed emphatically at you—“here you are!” Her grin was disturbingly earnest.

For a moment, you seriously considered turning around, walking out, and requesting a new room assignment. But something in the way her expression softened—like she was genuinely hoping you’d stay—gave you pause.

Against all better judgment, you stepped further into the room, dropping your bag onto the empty bed.

“Cool,” you said flatly, masking uncertainty with indifference. “Just… no goat sacrifices or anything.”

Izumi clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “This is going to be so much fun! ”

You already regretted everything.

Before you could even unzip your duffel bag, Izumi— or Nightshade—sprang from her bed like a coiled spring, crossing the room in three long, almost theatrical strides. Her combat boots thudded softly against the scuffed linoleum floor as her long, striped socks scrunched with each step.

“So! What’s your major?” she asked eagerly, tilting her head like a curious raven inspecting something shiny.

“Uh...” you replied cautiously, still adjusting to her overwhelming energy. “I’m majoring in arts.”

Her eyes widened, practically glowing with excitement. “Arts! That’s perfect. You’re probably one of those tortured-artist types who creates things that make people feel uncomfortable... or haunted.” She gestured wildly as if envisioning some dark, twisted masterpiece. “I knew the universe wouldn’t stick me with some boring business major.”

You let out a faint, exasperated sigh and turned back to unzip your duffel bag, already dreading the rest of this bizarre conversation.

“What’s your zodiac sign?” she pressed, undeterred.

“Scorpio,” you answered flatly, figuring it was easier to cooperate than resist.

She let out a delighted, almost sinister laugh, spinning on her heel as if energized by your answer. “ Of course you’re a Scorpio. I could feel the dark, brooding energy when you walked in.” She nodded to herself as though confirming a long-held suspicion.

You sighed inwardly. “What’s yours?” you asked without looking up, folding a well-worn hoodie and stuffing it into the tiny dresser.

“Capricorn sun, Pisces moon, Scorpio rising,” she declared proudly, her hand placed reverently over her chest. “I’m basically a cosmic enigma.”

You paused, glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you had no idea whatever the fuck those words meant. Her expression was deadly serious, as though she truly believed she was some otherworldly being.

Not knowing how to respond, you continued methodically unpacking your clothes, your fingers brushing against a familiar worn book tucked among your things— The Collected Works of Sylvia Plath . You hesitated, then shoved it deeper into the drawer.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she continued, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper.

“Not really,” you admitted, still bent over the drawer.

“Oh, you will, ” she said with a knowing smirk, leaning in slightly like she was sharing a forbidden secret.

You shot her a wary glance. “Right.”

Izumi dramatically leaned against her bedpost, crossing one leg over the other as her combat boot bounced rhythmically against the frame. Her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement, practically devouring every word you spoke.

“Any exes I need to know about? Stalkers? Cursed objects you brought with you?” she asked, her voice equal parts nosy and fascinated.

“Just... normal stuff,” you muttered not wanting to let her know a single thing about you, shutting the drawer a little harder than necessary and wondering how long this interrogation would last.

“Normal is boring, ” she sighed dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder with practiced flair. “But don’t worry— I’ll fix that.”

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, glittering with something between amusement and intent.

You couldn’t tell if she was joking—or making a promise.

Suddenly, Izumi clapped her hands together with a sharp smack . “Oh! There’s going to be a university fair tomorrow for all the new students. They’ll have sororities— bleh .” She stuck her finger dramatically to her mouth and made an exaggerated gagging sound, rolling her eyes with theatrical disdain.

You bit back a smirk despite yourself.

“Clubs... and my club.” Her expression lit up like she had just revealed the meaning of life.

You raised an eyebrow. “Your club?”

“The Supernatural Society!” she declared proudly, throwing her arms wide like she was summoning the spirits themselves. Her combat boots scuffed the linoleum as she took a commanding stance, practically glowing with excitement. “I’m the president, obviously. ”

Of course she fucking is, you thought dryly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s only the most important club on campus,” she continued, pacing dramatically as though delivering a speech to an unseen audience. “We investigate the unknown, explore the unexplained, and seek truths that others are too afraid to uncover.”

She stopped abruptly and jabbed a finger toward you, her gaze piercing. “You should definitely come. Even if you’re technically a second-year, you’re basically new here.”

Izumi leaned in slightly, lowering her voice into something almost conspiratorial. “We could use someone like you.”

Her eyes gleamed with intent, and for a second, you couldn’t tell if she was inviting you—or recruiting you.

You hesitated, trying to suppress a wave of unease. She’s... real fucking intense.

Before you could answer, she launched back into her pitch. “We meet in the old art studio in East Hall. They say it’s haunted—which is perfect for our sessions.” Her fingers flexed like she was already imagining the next eerie ritual. “Candles, chanting... sometimes the lights flicker, but that just adds to the vibe, you know?”

You crossed your arms, studying her carefully. “Do... other people actually join this club?”

Her face lit up with genuine pride. “We have seven members right now. Quality over quantity!” she said quickly, then added, “But honestly, you seem... different. ” Her eyes narrowed slightly, appraising you like she was looking through your skin, searching for something only she could see.

You simply stared into her dark eyes, giving her absolutely nothing to work with. Of course you'd be roomed with an absolute fucking weirdo. Sure you were weird in your own way, but there were such things called boundaries.

“I’ll... think about it,” you said cautiously, already wondering if avoiding this so-called Supernatural Society would be impossible.

Izumi grinned, satisfied. “Good.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you had just agreed to—or what you might’ve gotten yourself into.

After stuffing the last of your clothes into the dresser’s creaky drawers, you let out a weary sigh. Unpacking felt like peeling off a layer of tension, though the strange energy radiating from your roommate, Izumi, never wavered.

Before you could even react, she leapt from her bed. “Alright, enough stalling—we’re going to the university fair.”

“I just unpacked—”

She seized your wrist like an impatient spectre. “No excuses. You’re new. We must stake our claim.” The university quad buzzed with chaotic energy. Booths stretched endlessly in uneven rows, each fighting for attention with blaring music, glittering decorations, and too-loud voices. Flyers fluttered in the breeze, sticking to shoes and swirling like confetti from hell.

A sorority girl with a blinding white smile and neon-pink crop top waved pompoms aggressively from atop a decorated table. “ Join Delta Zeta! ” she screamed, voice sharp enough to pierce metal.

Absolutely fucking not, you thought.

“They reek of fake tan and desperation,” Izumi muttered, sneering.

Students in Greek-letter hoodies patrolled like predators on the hunt. A blonde guy with long hair and a wild grin leaned lazily against a booth marked Sigma Omega Omicron . His sharp blue eyes sparkled with something both inviting and dangerous.

Next to him, a tall, muscular white-haired guy with tattoos covering his arms barked crudely at passers-by. “Oi, you scared of fun or just allergic to living?!” he roared, throwing his arms wide.

The blonde snickered. “Bet you couldn’t handle one party, princess. ”

You halted mid-step, spinning on your heel with a snarky smile. “You’d be surprised.”

His smirk faltered for a split second before returning with twice the arrogance. “ Feisty. I like that.”

Izumi yanked your arm. “Don’t engage with the delinquents.”

“Typical SOO trash,” she hissed, her chopped hair moving briskly as she shook her head. “Don’t even look at them.” Hidan hissed back at her, earning him a quick middle finger. The Sigma Omega Omicron booth radiated chaotic energy, surrounded by a growing crowd of curious onlookers and reluctant recruits. More members emerged like predators circling prey: a tall, muscular guy with piercings and a stitched-together leather jacket—Kisame (Events Coordinator)—stood intimidatingly close to the table, cracking his knuckles for emphasis causing you to roll your eyes.

Behind the table, a lean, pale-skinned man with sharp features and onyx eyes meticulously shuffled through forms like he was managing a hostile takeover rather than a booth for a frat. His nametag read Itachi (Secretary).

The silver-haired man that had been shouting at freshmen plopped himself down, flicking a lighter repeatedly while balancing precariously on a folding chair. His shirt read “Repent Later.” His nametag: Hidan (Social Chair).

Deidara’s name was written dramatically with the role underneath it being smudged to the point you couldn’t read it, the long-haired blonde who had made an ugly pass at you, gestured grandly toward the banner with spray-paint streaks declaring “JOIN SIGMA OMEGA – WE MAKE HISTORY” in bold, messy letters. “Come on, cowards! Live a little!”

“Or don’t,” Hidan added with a wicked grin. “We’re still better than you.”

Izumi muttered darkly, pulling you further away. “They’re like feral dogs in overpriced boots.” Her gaze lingering a little too long on the dark-haired man whose name tag proclaimed him as Itachi.

You couldn’t help but glance back as the crowd erupted into another round of laughter and taunts. What the actual fuck kind of university is this?

Nearby, other booths clamoured for attention: the Literature Society displayed old typewriters under a poetic sign reading “Write Your Own Destiny.” The Astronomy Club had a telescope pointed skyward, even though it was broad daylight. Someone dressed as a medieval knight swung a foam sword near the Historical Reenactment Society booth.

As you wove through the crowd, the atmosphere shifted. Loud music and hooting laughter blasted ahead. A massive banner with electric-blue letters read “DELTA OMEGA STORM - TONIGHT’S ONLY DESTINATION!”

A makeshift DJ booth blared a pounding beat while the group of men at the Delta Omega Storm booth worked the crowd like seasoned pros. Their energy was magnetic, chaotic, and absolutely ridiculous.

A broad-shouldered guy with wild brown hair barked out, “Free drinks for the hot girls, no one else need apply ! ” His sharp-toothed grin gleamed like a warning. His name tag, slapped crookedly across his chest, read: Kiba (Social Chair).

Next to him, a tall guy with long, dark hair and piercing eyes surveyed the crowd with detached coolness, his lean build and folded arms making him seem untouchable.

Another with a varsity jacket and messy blonde hair clapped an unsuspecting freshman on the back. “Delta party tonight ! ” he shouted with cocky ease. “Best night of your life, guaranteed! ” His name tag was peeling at the edges though you could make out his name was Naruto.

Near the booth’s edge, a stoic redhead in a dark hoodie stood like a silent sentinel, his intense gaze sweeping the crowd as though assessing threats—or targets.

A sharp-dressed man with cold, pale eyes stood off to the side, arms crossed as though enduring the chaos for some calculated reason. His posture radiated authority though he looked like he’d rather be running an investment portfolio rather than standing next to a neon party banner.

A quiet figure with round, dark glasses adjusted a flyer display with surgical precision, every motion deliberate and efficient. His intense focus suggested he took his recruitment duties far more seriously than his companions. 

Finally, a lanky, bored-looking guy with a perpetual slouch fiddled with a pen, twirling it in fluid, lazy motions. His eyes were half-lidded, giving the impression that existence itself was exhausting. His name tag, stuck on upside down, was impossible to read from the distance you were at.

“Don’t come if you’re gonna be boring ,” he added flatly, drawing easy laughter from nearby girls.

You snorted. The sheer absurdity of their roles being listed so formally on these cheap paper name tags was almost comical. This wasn’t a university fare—it was an overly elaborate invitation to debauchery.

“Want to check it out?” you asked Izumi, half-joking.

She snorted. “ Them? They’re not as bad as SOO... but still... reckless. ”

You smiled faintly. Reckless sounded exactly like what you needed or else you’d bore yourself doing art alone in your room all year– a nightmare in itself, especially seeing your roommate.

Without another word, you shrugged off Izumi’s warning. What the hell . Your so-called fresh start was already spiralling into chaos; you might as well lean into it, just like you did before at your old university, for better or worse.

Izumi sighed in clear disappointment, folding her arms. “I’ll see you later, then. If you have time, you should check out the Supernatural Society booth.”

You barely held back a scoff. “Sure.” Like fuck you were spending another second with her and her cursed objects collection. You’d rather eat glass.

She shot you a long, knowing look before disappearing into the crowd, her dark hair swinging sharply with each step.

You strode confidently toward the Delta Omega Storm booth, shoulders back, chin high. Caution was something you’d never had when making shit decisions.

As you approached, the wild-haired guy—Kiba, according to his name tag—locked onto you with the sharp intensity of a predator sizing up potential prey. His posture shifted, straightening just enough to exude aggressive confidence.

He tilted his head, brazenly dragging his eyes over you like he was inspecting goods at a dodgy market. “You here to actually party, or just look pretty and waste my time?”

The audacity hit you like a slap. Before you could stop yourself, you fired back, “Depends. Are the drinks cold, or are you serving frat-boy delusions on tap?”

His mouth twisted into something between amusement and challenge. “Alright. We could definitely use more of that tonight.”

Behind him, the tall, dark-haired guy—Sasuke, his name tag read—let out a quiet, derisive snort. His sharp, unreadable gaze met yours for a fleeting second before shifting back to the crowd. His lean frame radiated disdain, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes.

“Name?” Kiba asked, already snatching up a flyer from the cluttered stack on the table.

“Y/N.”

His grin widened into something feral. “Y/N, you just earned VIP. Don’t disappoint.” He thrust a glossy, neon-bright invitation into your hand.

You smirked despite yourself. Being reckless was in your nature.

“Hey! You over there!”

Startled, you glanced up to see a sleekly decorated sorority booth positioned directly opposite Delta Omega Storm’s chaotic display. A large pastel-pink banner read Alpha Kappa Blossom (AKB) in elegant cursive. The whole setup was polished, sophisticated, and surprisingly modern—no neon-orange spray-tan disasters in sight.

Finally, some fucking normalcy, much more to my taste.

A tall, striking blonde with piercing blue eyes waved you over, her bright smile practically sparkling under the afternoon sun. Her nametag read “ Ino - Vice President. ” She rested a manicured hand on her hip, her sleek ponytail gleaming like something out of a haircare commercial.

“You look like you belong over here! ” Ino called enthusiastically, gesturing toward the booth’s carefully arranged display of glossy sorority brochures and immaculate floral arrangements.

You hesitated but found yourself walking toward her anyway. After surviving the testosterone-fuelled circus of Delta Omega Storm, this felt... refreshingly normal - she reminded you of your old friends, when things were good between you all at least.

“Welcome to Alpha Kappa Blossom!” Ino beamed, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Ino, Recruitment Chair. You’ve got great energy—I can tell already.”

Her confidence was magnetic but not overbearing. The women stationed around the booth radiated similar charisma—polished, stylish, but undeniably sharp.

You caught glimpses of other girls chatting with prospective members: a dark-haired woman with striking lavender eyes organizing pamphlets with precise care, a tall, athletic brunette adjusting a trophy display, and a petite, pink-haired woman enthusiastically leading a group of freshmen on a booth tour.

You shook Ino’s hand firmly. “Y/N.”

Her smile widened. “Y/N. Love that. Ever considered going Greek?” She tilted her head, studying your expression like she could read between the lines.

You shrugged casually, knowing not to say much. “I was in a sorority at my last university.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of the booth’s sign.  “Then you already know how it works! We’re throwing a welcome event tonight—you should definitely come.”

You glanced back toward Delta Omega Storm’s loud, chaotic booth where Kiba was now howling towards a freshman girl something about “body shots.” The contrast was almost laughable.

God, anything’s better than getting stuck with that creepy roommate. You’d sooner dive headfirst into Delta’s questionable pool than spend another evening hearing about manifestation.

“Alright,” you said, flashing a faint smirk. “I’m in.”

“By the way,” you asked smoothly, “do you guys plan to hit the Delta Omega party later?”

Ino’s grin widened knowingly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Totally. After the welcome event, of course. They’re our brother fraternity.” She rested a hand on her hip, radiating effortless confidence.

The dark-haired woman with lavender eyes—whose name tag read Hinata - New Member Educator —approached with a warm, genuine smile that softened her otherwise regal demeanor. “You should come. The parties are... energetic.” Her soft voice carried a hint of amusement, as though she knew far more than she let on. You found it incredibly useful that everyone on these booths were wearing name tags.

Before you could respond, the athletic brunette— Tenten - Event Planner —laughed as she tossed a stack of brochures onto the table, her toned arms flexing slightly. “Delta Omega’s parties are legendary. Just... watch out for Kiba. He thinks he’s charming.” She rolled her eyes affectionately, clearly accustomed to his antics.

You smirked, shifting your weight casually. “Yeah, I met him. Total salesman.”

The pink-haired girl— Sakura - President —returned, practically buzzing with excitement, her energy palpable even in the chaotic fair setting. “You’re definitely coming, right?” Her green eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she handed you a neatly folded invite printed with shimmering gold letters.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said smoothly, already feeling more at home.

Ino clapped her hands together with satisfaction. "Perfect. You’ll fit in here just fine." Her tone was confident, almost like she’d already claimed you for the sorority.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she tilted her head. "So you said something about an old university... are you a freshman?"

"Second-year," you replied casually. "Art major. Transfer student."

Ino’s interest visibly deepened. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was about to uncover the juiciest piece of gossip. "Ooh, transfer? Why’d you switch schools?"

You smirked, savoring the slight tension hanging in the air. "Maybe after a few shots, I’ll tell you."

Ino gasped playfully, pressing a hand to her chest like you’d just issued the ultimate challenge. "I’m holding you to that, if I remember to ask."

As the conversation continued, the sorority girls began filling you in on the night’s itinerary. “We’re hosting a pre-party mixer at our house first,” Tenten explained while rearranging some event flyers with efficient precision. “It’s less... chaotic than Delta’s. But after? We’ll head over together.”

“Think of it as... maintaining balance,” Sakura added with a wry smirk. “A little elegance before absolute madness.”

Hinata nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And it’s tradition to arrive together. It keeps things... coordinated. We do everything with our brother fraternity.”

Coordinated, you thought, amused. They operated like a well-oiled machine, blending genuine friendship with the sharp calculation of practiced social navigators.

Ino leaned in conspiratorially. “Also... word of advice? Don’t let Naruto talk you into any drinking contests.” Her smile turned wicked. “He’s undefeated, and you will regret it.”

Sakura snorted. “He lives for that dumb King of Shots title.”

Tenten chimed in with mock seriousness. “And if you hear someone yelling about ‘legendary feats’—just walk away.”

Your eyebrow twitched upwards in wonderment of whatever the fuck that could even mean. You laughed, imagining the chaos already. “Good to know.”

As you lingered by the booth, you couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they interacted—not just with you, but with each other. They weren’t playing a role or putting on an act. This was their world: stylish, commanding, and irresistibly magnetic.

“See you tonight,” Ino said with a playful wink, waving as she moved on to greet another curious student.

You slipped the invitation into your bag, feeling the spark of anticipation ignite in your chest.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

AO3 LINK so you don't have to scroll :)

[bridgetotheskyyy]

✨Skyyy's First Kinktober 2023!

Just as it says on the tin, this is my very first kinktober event ever! My main priority will be to post my prompts on ao3 at a timely basis but I will try to post those same fics on Tumblr on the same day if I can! Please patient with me 💕

These are the prompts I've made up my mind on so far, but the list will be updated (edit: still making up my mind lmao)

I am not comfortable with taglists at this time so please just check back here for updates/links to prompts ✌

Prompts will be a mix of one shots and drabbles 💕

18+ only

Character x f!reader always

Fandoms included: naruto, bleach, jjk, arcane, csm, aot

October 1st | Hashirama Senju | PEGGING

October 2nd | Jiraiya | TITFUCKING

October 3rd | Aki Hayakawa | HATE SEX

October 4th | Viktor | RIMMING

October 5th | Naoya Zenin | COLLARING

October 6th | Toge Inumaki | DUBCON

October 7th | Yuji Itadori | STUCK IN WALL

October 8th | Suguru Geto | MASTER/SLAVE

October 9th | Akatsuki | GANGBANG

October 10th | Kisuke Urahara | PRAISE KINK

October 11th | Itachi Uchiha | SOMNOPHILIA

October 12th | Utahime Iori | LINGERIE

October 13th | Kento Nanami | ORGASM DENIAL

October 14th | Armin & Eren | THREESOME

October 15th | Silco | SPANKING

October 16th | Kisame Hoshigaki | SIZE KINK

October 17th | Yuuta & Toge | DOUBLE PENETRATION/ONE HOLE

October 18th | Kisuke Urahara | SENSORY DEPRIVATION

October 19th | Mitsuri Kanroji | BODY WORSHIP

October 20th | Yuuta Okkotsu | VOYEURISM

October 23rd | Mitsuri Kanroji | SEX TOYS

October 24th | Gaara | MASTURBATION

October 25th | Itachi & Shisui | DOUBLE PENETRATION/TWO HOLES

October 26th | Mikasa Ackerman | FACESITTING

October 27th | Kakashi Hatake | ROLEPLAY

October 28th | Toji Fushiguro | PUBLIC SEX

October 29th | Suguru Geto | DADDY KINK

October 30th | Itachi & Sasuke | INCEST

October 31st | Kishibe | STRIPPING

[uchiha-saradas]

hi friends!!

the first chapter to my sasusaku fanfic, resilience, has been published and is now available to read on wattpad.

i don’t have my laptop on me as i am currently out of town but will try to upload the story on a03 as well. i’m so happy to be writing again and have been wanting to write this fanfic for awhile now.

feel free to like or comment as any feedback would be much appreciated!

with love,

riley

https://www.wattpad.com/1318954370?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=uchihasaradas

[osakigitsune]

I'll show this here. Here is my little teaser... and no I do not know where I'm going with this lolol! This is during Blank Era before they got married! <3

[yuwuta]

YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love. 

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta &lt;2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.  

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.  

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”  

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.  

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.  

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.  

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.  

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.  

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.” 

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.  

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.” 

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”  

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.” 

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.” 

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again. 

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets. 

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—” 

���Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away. 

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.” 

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it. 

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be. 

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.” 

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them. 

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?” 

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both. 

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!” 

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.” 

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her. 

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there. 

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate. 

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him. 

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands. 

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.  

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him. 

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her. 

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table. 

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.  

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”  

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together. 

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.  

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you. 

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.” 

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?” 

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself. 

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself. 

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?” 

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?” 

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that? 

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you? 

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?” 

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.” 

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely. 

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen. 

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen. 

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway. 

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars. 

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in. 

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute. 

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly. 

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling. 

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels. 

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.  

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.” 

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well. 

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.  

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.” 

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him. 

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not. 

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.” 

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile. 

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity. 

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite. 

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona. 

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you. 

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain. 

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met. 

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long. 

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have. 

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you. 

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan. 

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation. 

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ 

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed. 

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type. 

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall. 

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription. 

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.  

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.  

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly. 

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.  

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck. 

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.  

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.  

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms? 

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.  

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”  

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”  

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji. 

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody. 

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother. 

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body. 

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.” 

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji. 

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known. 

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?” 

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!”  

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.”  

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask.  

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little. 

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else. 

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn. 

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can. 

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else. 

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin. 

Believe that, Itadori. 

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through. 

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo. 

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that. 

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely. 

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way. 

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together. 

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again. 

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.” 

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse. 

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.” 

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.” 

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.” 

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?” 

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you. 

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.” 

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him? 

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.” 

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.” 

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone. 

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?” 

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?” 

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?” 

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him. 

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest. 

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words. 

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you. 

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone. 

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick. 

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one. 

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers. 

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it. 

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.” 

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control. 

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life. 

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop. 

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.” 

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good. 

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you. 

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?” 

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours. 

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over. 

[skyahri]

Hate |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hate is a strong word, but it's also a very fragile one.

Warnings: Brief smut, kissing mentions of p and v. Some angst, but all comfort. Mentions of blood, violence, and death.

Masterlist Ko-fi

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Kakashi Hatake

You hated how full of himself he was. He was always talking down to people, to his teammates and so-called friends. He goes out of his way to show people up no matter how inappropriate the situation may be.

He hated that you always stuck up for people he considered weak. He hated how much time and energy you put into helping others instead of focusing on your own training. He hated that you had so much potential, yet seemed to waste it at every opportunity.

As time went on and you were forced into each other's inner circles, your occasional arguments became a constant bicker. It got even worse when you were assigned to his ANBU team. You questioned his every move and fought every decision he made.

In return, he always gave you the least desirable night shifts. He'd make you write all the reports, saying something about needing to learn to respect your elders (he's only a few months older than you).

Once you were put in charge of your own team, things quieted down. Not because either of you had mellowed out, but because you didn't cross paths as often anymore.

Because of how rarely you saw him, you always made sure to make your brief encounters worth it. You had practically written a list of insults to throw his way. He returned the same energy with out hesitation.

Eventually, after his genin team had gone their separate ways and you had finally retired from ANBU, you had a seemingly infinite amount of time to rekindle your rivalry with him.

He always seemed to be heading in the same direction as you were. It didn't matter if you were on your way to the Hokage's office, the shops, or meeting up with someone- he was always there.

You tried to fight with him like the good old days, but it was different now that you were grown adults. Maybe the ungodly amount of trauma combined with the wedge distance had created in your odd relationship had finally put an end to your petty war.

Thinking back, maybe this is what it had been all along, and your stupid kid brain was too proud to admit what was really going on.

Your arguing had turned into kissing the moment he stepped through your apartment door. Things moved quickly, expert hands doing away with endless layers of Jonin uniforms in a rushed attempt to feel more of each other.

It felt right. Like the decades of tension had finally come to a head and you were being forced to deal with it in the most animalistic way possible.

"I hate you."

Your mumbling between desperate kisses. He doesn't acknowledge you immediately, opting to instead lift you by your ass so your legs could wrap around him. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his clothed election right against your womanhood.

"I hate you, too."

Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room, that the word you're looking for isn't actually hate. But that's beyond your cloudy minds right now.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has never really bothered with social pleasantries or subjected himself to cater to what people like and dislike. In fact, he often chastised people for caring what others think.

He always commented about what you wore, how well groomed you were, and the overall effort you put into your appearance each day.

You hated listening to it, which is why you always did your best to avoid him.

It wasn't even about you specifically. You hated hearing how rudely he'd shut down Ino when she would ramble on about anything. You hated when he complained about how loud Naruto and Kiba were despite knowing that they're just excitable people. You hated hearing the damn near sexist remarks he'd make about how stupid people were for giving any shots about how they looked.

It was annoying. It didn't seem to phase anyone else anymore, but that almost made it worse.

You were at your breaking point. Just one comment away from losing your composure and you prayed to God you'd be able to refrain from saying anything too harsh.

But alas, Kakashi had assigned you to yet another mission with him- the sixth one just this month.

At least he waited until you were at the Inn before he started up with you. You honestly don't know why he let you shower first if it was going to be such an issue.

"Finally. I thought you'd be in there forever."

"What the Hell is your problem with me?"

He paused in his tracks. He wasn't expecting you to say anything to his usual grumbling, and especially didn't expect it to be so hostile.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"It was twenty minutes. You'll live."

"It wouldn't be that long if you didn't bother with all the extra shit you use."

"Why is it such a problem that I care about what I look like? I don't ever involve you in it and yet you're always talking about it."

He rolled his eyes, about to blow off whatever you were saying, but you started up again before he could.

"All you ever do is bitch and whine and moan about dumb shit that doesn't concern you. I like to look nice. I like wearing clothes that compliment my figure and putting time into the health of my hair and skin. It's not the end of the world, so shut the fuck up about it already."

You walked past him and lay in one of the twin beds, tired from the journey and pissed about your teammate's usual poor behavior.

He didn't say anything. He continued with what he was going to do before the argument and carried on like nothing had happened.

He kept any conversations strictly professional for the duration of the mission, something you were ecstatic about.

It wasn't until a few days after you returned home that you heard from him. He showed up at your apartment unprompted, looking irritated and slightly flustered.

"After talking with my team, it may have come to my attention that I might be kind of an ass."

You invited him in, curious as to what he had to say. He admitted that he had never been called out on it. Most people don't take him too seriously and he may have gotten a bit too comfortable voicing every thought that crossed his mind.

Although he had mostly soothed any nerves you had, you still decided he owed you.

You dragged him into your room, sat him at your vanity, and laughed when he groaned. You pulled out all the stops for him. You took him through your entire routine start to finish and when you were done, you asked him hiw it felt.

He hated that it felt nice. He hated that he suddenly realized how dry his skin usually was and how clean he suddenly felt. He would never fully admit that to you, though.

Him showing up at your apartment the next day, conveniently around the time you usually started these things, was all the confirmation you needed that he no longer deemed it a waste of time.

Sasuke Uchiha

He hated going to the Hokage's office, not because he was still in the thick of earning his freedom after the war, but because he hated Kakashi’s assistant.

You annoy him. He hates that you so confidently push his buttons. He hates that you're just a civilian, but you've been given so much authority over him. It was an unfit existence for the last Uchiha.

You enjoyed messing with him. He would grumble when given his assignment and you made sure to mock him with a playful pout. You'd check in with the ANBU watching over him to make sure he was behaving. You always used that word- behaving. As if he were a child.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Kakashi isn't in the village right now, meaning he's stuck taking orders from you. He swears Kakashi picked you to oversee him intentionally, knowing how much it would bother him.

He's sitting next to you, helping you go through seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He wasn't sure if this was better than all the D-rank missions he'd been assigned lately, but he begrudgingly accepted the change of pace.

He glances at you through his peripherals. The sun is just going down, the orange light illuminating your soft features. Your usual bratty expression was replaced with a more peaceful one.

This was most likely just as much a break for you as it was for him. He wasn't oblivious to the way you had to reel Kakashi in every day, damn near having to tie him to his chair to get anything done.

"You can go home. I'll finish up here and we can resume tomorrow."

He didn't argue, thankful for relief from the horrifically tedious task. As he was leaving the building, he suddenly got this feeling in his gut that he should stay.

Of course, not wanting to do more paperwork than he was required to, he ignored the feeling and carried on.

He should've stayed. Just an hour after he left, while you were packing up for the night, the tower was raided by rogue nin.

The alarm sounded in the village, immediately calling all available shinobi. Bee, the ANBU assigned to him, gave him permission to lend a hand, and off they went to the tower.

He teleported himself to Kakashi’s office, knowing you would most likely be in there or at least somewhere near. What he wasn't expecting, however, was you standing over a body, kunai in hand and blood splattered across your body.

"Y/N?"

You didn't move, couldn't move. He reached forward, tugged the blade out of your shaky grip, and let it fall to the floor. You let him, not really in the mood to fight any more than you had to right now.

"Is he dead?"

Your question caught him off guard.

"I've never killed anyone before."

Ah. Civilian. Right. Sure, you belonged to a Shinobu village and even worked under the Kage, but that was vastly different than being on the front lines.

He thought for a second. Was he in any sort of position to be responsible for you at the moment? Should he hand you off to one of the other nin and return home?

"Cover your eyes."

It took a minute for his words to register in your hazy mind, but once they did you obeyed. If there was one thing you knew would benefit you, it would be allowing him to take the lead for now.

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and guided you through the hallways, down the stairs, and away from the tower completely. He glanced around, but couldn't find Bee, so he opted to take you back to his apartment. It would cause a lot less trouble if he was where he was supposed to be after all.

At home, he sat you down in the tub and turned on the water. He left you there, letting all the blood loosen from your skin. He returned a moment later, setting a stack of clothes down on the counter and grabbing a rag from the cabinet.

Neither of you spoke as he gently scrubbed your face. When he was done, he got a little bit of shampoo and worked all the red out of your hair.

You were slowly coming out of your daze. It was nice being brought out by something kind and comforting. It was almost enough to distract you from the night's events. Almost.

When he was done, he handed you the cloth, telling you to finish up and see him when you're done. You nodded, standing up and undressing when the door closed. You noticed how clean the water ran, most likely due to how thoroughly the Uchiha had taken care of you.

When you stepped out of the tub, you noticed the clothes on the counter. Upon closer inspection, they were similar to the ones he was wearing now- a t-shirt and sweats.

You joined him in the adjacent bedroom where he waited patiently. He all but forced you into his bed, shutting down all of your protests. When he went to leave the room, you quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him.

"Please stay."

He didn't fight you. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and staring blanky in front of him.

You were thankful for the comfort of simply not being alone. Not after tonight, when so much had happened and the trauma was still fresh in your mind.

He tried telling himself that this was not a personal act, but instead one that would aid his village. But who was he kidding? He was realizing you weren't all that terrible and he had just allowed his angst brain to manipulate him into thinking so.

[arabella0001]

Hiii do you write kakashi smut czI I have a req I have an idea .. I'll dm you

sure, i saw your request before, hope this is good! ( sorry if its too long)

"Marked by Fate" (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Anime: Naruto Synopsis: "His clan’s mark burns on my skin, a secret even he doesn’t know." Warnings: light teasing, fluff, fingering, rough/light sex

The flames consumed everything. Shadows danced across the walls of your crumbling village as screams cut through the night. You’d fought, you’d run, but there was no outrunning chaos. Your back hit the corner of a smoldering hut, your legs shaking as a rogue shinobi closed in.

You thought this was it. The end. But salvation came like a lightning strike. A kunai sliced through the air, and your would-be killer hit the ground

“You okay?” a boy’s voice asked, loud and bright like it wasn’t coming from a battlefield.

You stared up at him—wild blonde hair, a foxlike grin—and nodded numbly.

“Get her out of here,” Sasuke ordered, his voice calm and sharp. Sakura was already at your side, her hands glowing with chakra as she hauled you to your feet. “You’re safe now,” she said, and her words felt like a promise as your vision blurred and the world went black.

You woke up to unfamiliar walls and the quiet hum of life outside. Konoha.Your body ached, but you were alive. Sakura hovered over you, focused, her chakra seeping into your wounds. You muttered a quiet thank you, but she barely seemed to hear it.

Her hands froze mid-motion as her gaze fell to your shoulder blade.

“What is that?” she murmured, tracing a faint, intricate mark etched into your skin.

Tsunade appeared in the doorway, her presence commanding even in silence. She leaned closer, her brow furrowing as her fingers brushed over the mark.

“Impossible,” she said softly. “What?” you asked, sitting up, dread twisting in your chest.

Tsunade didn’t look at you when she spoke. “That’s a soulmate mark.”

“A… what?”

Sakura’s face was pale. “It’s Kakashi-sensei’s mark.”

The name hit you like a weight. You’d heard the stories—the cold, brilliant shinobi who lived half in shadow. A man who, by all accounts, didn’t believe in soulmates. And now… now you were tied to him by some weird twist of fate.

Naruto found out, of course, and his reaction was loud enough to shake the hospital walls. “You’re Kakashi-sensei’s soulmate?! He’s gonna lose it!”

“I’m not telling him,” you said quickly.

“Why not?” Sakura asked, trying to be gentle, though you could feel her curiosity bleeding through.

You shook your head, the weight of it all too much.

The kids didn’t listen.

They schemed, planned, and eventually set up a casual “coincidence.” A bar. Kakashi would show up, you’d just happento be there, and they’d introduce you.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this.

The moment you stepped inside, you saw him. Silver hair, relaxed posture, mask tugged slightly down as he leaned in toward a woman at the bar. She was laughing, her hand brushing his arm, and he didn’t move away.

Your stomach twisted, you d come here hoping—foolishly—that maybe, maybe, this would make sense. That you’d meet him, and it would feel like fate instead of a curse.Instead, you were watching the man fate had tied you to flirt with someone else, his smirk lazy, his body language too easy.

Sakura caught your arm before you bolted. “Wait—”

“No,” you said, voice trembling. “This was a mistake.”

You left before anyone else could stop you, but the crack in your chest stayed.

You buried yourself in Konoha life.

The Hokage gave you refuge, a place to live, a job at a small café. You found a rhythm, a way to quiet the ache that wouldn’t leave.

Naruto and Sakura visited often, always hovering like guilty little conspirators. They wanted to tell him, you could feel it in the way they watched you. But they didn’t.

You were grateful for that. And yet, every time Kakashi’s name came up—his voice, his quirks, the way they talked about him like he was more than just a legend—you felt that ache again.

Months later, fate struck again.

The bell over the café door chimed. You glanced up out of habit, your greeting catching in your throat as Team 7 walked in, Kakashi trailing behind them.

Time slowed. His presence filled the room without effort—silver hair, lazy posture, his eye scanning the café like he wasn’t paying attention. But then his gaze landed on you and he made a curious look. Your breath caught.

“Have we met?” he asked, voice smooth, curious. You shook your head, managing a tight smile. “No.”

He watched you for a moment too long, his sharp eye narrowing slightly like he didn’t believe you. But then Naruto dragged him to their table, and the moment passed. It didn’t take him long to notice something was off.

Kakashi was sharp, and Team 7 was terrible at hiding anything. He caught their sideways glances, the tension in the air whenever you walked by. Naruto couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it, and Sakura wasn’t much better when she started side-eying him during missions. Even Sasuke had been unusually quiet, which was more alarming than the loudest confession. It wasn’t just them, either—Tsunade’s cryptic looks, the way his students avoided certain topics, the odd tension that lingered in the air whenever you were around.

You.

There was something familiar about you, something he couldn’t place but couldn’t shake.

And Kakashi wasn’t one to ignore his gut. It came to a head late one night. He caught Sakura and Naruto whispering in a hallway outside the Hokage’s office, their voices dropping the moment they noticed him. Naruto froze, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Sakura groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, like she knew what was coming.

“Care to share?” Kakashi asked, his voice deceptively casual.

“N-Nothing, sensei!” Naruto stammered, backing up a step.

“...Right.” Kakashi didn’t buy it for a second. “Sakura?”

Her shoulders slumped. “It’s not my place to say,” she mumbled, refusing to meet his eye.

Kakashi’s patience was thin, but it wasn’t until he went straight to Tsunade—knowing she wouldn’t bother with games—that he finally got his answer.

He wasn’t ready for it.

“She’s your soulmate,” Tsunade said bluntly, leaning back in her chair, her eyes steady on his.

Kakashi blinked once. Twice. It felt like the words hadn’t landed, like they’d slid past him into someone else’s world. “What?”

Tsunade sighed, like she was tired of explaining herself. “The mark on her back. It’s the Hatake soulmate seal. You’d know this if you’d bothered to read the records your father left behind.”

Kakashi stiffened at the mention of his father, but his mind was still spinning. Soulmate? Him? He almost laughed, the idea so ridiculous he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“You’re joking,” he said finally, voice flat.

Tsunade’s gaze hardened. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

The weight of it sank in slowly, pressing against his chest. Soulmates weren’t supposed to exist. Or at least, not for him. That was for other people, for brighter lives. Not for someone who had lost too many people to ever believe fate could be kind.

But then he thought of you—of the way you avoided him, the way you flinched when his students talked too loudly about you. The way you wouldn’t look him in the eye, even though his presence seemed to pull something fragile from you.

“She didn’t tell me,” he murmured, more to himself than Tsunade.

“She didn’t want you to know,” Tsunade said, her tone sharp, cutting. “Can you blame her? She’s seen what you do when you think no one’s watching.”

The image hit him like a punch to the gut—his flirtations at the bar, his careless attempts to fill the hollow spaces of his life with fleeting touches and empty nights. You’d seen that. You’d seen him. And you hadn’t said a word.

He left without another question, his mind spinning. It wasn’t hard to find you. You were at the café, wiping down tables, your back to him as you hummed softly to yourself. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching, trying to process the weight of everything.

You noticed him eventually, stiffening when you turned and saw him. “Kakashi,” you said, voice quiet but steady.

He stepped closer, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture lazy but his gaze sharp. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question.

You froze, your knuckles tightening around the rag in your hand. “Who told you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Why didn’t you?” There was no anger in his voice—just a quiet curiosity, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You dropped the rag and sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Because it doesn’t matter.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like you were stripping him bare. “I saw you. At the bar. With her.” Your voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw in it that cut straight through him. “What was I supposed to do? Walk up to you and say, ‘Hi, I’m your soulmate,’ while you were busy trying to take someone else home?”

The words hit their mark. He didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened, “I didn’t know,” he said softly, his voice low and rough.

“And now you do,” you shot back, your eyes burning. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

He stepped closer, his presence filling the small space between you, and you felt your resolve falter. “It changes everything,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, more insistent. “You’re not just anyone.”

You shook your head, backing up, but he didn’t let you retreat. “You don’t have to want this,” he said, his tone gentler now, almost pleading. “But I do“

Your breath caught, his words settling over you like a fragile thread.

“Don’t walk away,” he whispered. “Not yet.” And against every instinct you had, you stayed.

You shook your head, stepping back. “You don’t even know me,” you said, voice sharp, trying to steady the way your heart raced.

Kakashi leaned casually against the doorframe, but his gaze pinned you in place, sharper than you wanted to admit. “You’re right,” he said, voice calm, almost lazy. “I don’t. But I’d like to.”

You let out a bitter laugh, folding your arms. “Why? You’ve lived this long without me. What difference does it make now?”

He tilted his head, like he was genuinely considering the question. “Because now I know you exist.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. You opened your mouth to push him away again, but he stepped closer, not touching you, not crowding, but enough that you felt his presence like a weight.

“I’m not asking for everything,” he said, voice softer now, the edge gone. “I’m just asking for a chance.”

You swallowed, your walls cracking against his quiet persistence. “And if I say no?”

His eye softened, and for the first time, you saw something raw beneath the mask. “Then I’ll respect it,” he said simply. “But I don’t think I’d stop hoping you’d change your mind.”

Your chest tightened, a lump forming in your throat. You barely knew him. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. And yet, the way he was looking at you—steady, unflinching—made it impossible to walk away.

“One chance,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

The corner of his mouth twitched in what might’ve been a smile. “That’s all I need.”

And somehow, you believed him.

Kakashi wasn’t the type to beg. He wasn’t the type to chase, either. But with you, it wasn’t about pride or ego. It was about something he couldn’t quite name, something that wouldn’t let him walk away, no matter how often you pushed him back.

At first, he kept his distance, unsure how to approach. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures, and he didn’t see himself as someone who could offer you what you deserved. But he couldn’t ignore the weight of knowing you existed. He couldn’t ignore you.

So, he tried in his own way. Small things. A quiet “Good morning” when he passed you in the street. An extra cup of coffee dropped off at your workplace, with no explanation. A subtle nod of approval when you’d mutter a sarcastic jab at Naruto’s antics during team dinners

When he asked you to dinner the first time, you said no. Flatly. No hesitation. He’d only nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, murmuring, “I understand,” and walked off.

But he didn’t stop.

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. He just... lingered. Always nearby, always watching—not in an overbearing way, but enough that you started to notice. Enough that when you caught him helping an elderly woman with her groceries or quietly fixing the fence around the local park, you found yourself lingering, too.

The second time he asked, it was quieter. No grand invitation, no fanfare. Just a casual, “I’ll be at the ramen stand around eight. If you feel like joining.”

And somehow, against your better judgment, you showed up.

The café was quiet, warm light flickering against the wooden beams above. Kakashi sat in the corner, his usual laid-back posture, but his eyes—his eyes were focused entirely on you. It wasn’t the casual glance you were used to; it was different tonight. There was a quiet intensity in the way he watched you walk toward him, the faintest trace of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated just outside the table, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world slowed down. “You’re not as punctual as I imagined,” Kakashi teased, his voice smooth, the usual playful edge there, but something softer underneath it.

You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Maybe I just didn’t want to seem too eager.” The words were light, but the look you gave him was anything but.

He chuckled, pushing his headband up slightly as he leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as ever. “You could’ve fooled me.”

The way he said it sent a wave of warmth rushing through you. There was an undeniable chemistry between you two, something that had only grown stronger with every passing day. You had tried to deny it at first—tried to keep it at arm’s length. But there was no mistaking it now. The tension, the connection, the little sparks that flew every time he glanced at you—it was all too real to ignore.

You sat down across from him, trying to keep your composure. “So, what do we do now?”

Kakashi leaned forward just slightly, the playful gleam in his eye never leaving. “I could ask you the same thing.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air before his voice softened, just a little. “I’m not great with this whole... getting to know someone thing. But with you, it doesn’t feel as... difficult.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. His honesty, raw and almost vulnerable beneath his usual teasing, caught you off guard

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” you said, voice quieter now, eyes meeting his in a way that said more than words ever could.

The silence stretched between you two, not uncomfortable, but full of something—something you were both trying to figure out. The waiter came and went, but neither of you seemed to care. Your focus remained on each other, the distance between you shrinking with every passing second.

“So,” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with something more serious, “what’s been on your mind lately? What are you really thinking about?” He didn’t ask out of curiosity; it was more like a challenge, a dare for you to reveal whatever it was that had been building up inside.

You hesitated, his question lingering in the air between you. The way Kakashi asked wasn’t pushy—it wasn’t even entirely intentional. It was just him, quiet and steady, drawing you out without even trying. His gaze was unreadable, but there was no denying the way it made your pulse quicken.

“I’m thinking about why you’re really here,” you said finally, fingers tracing the edge of your glass.

Kakashi tilted his head, his lips curving into that faint, lazy smile that always seemed to disarm you. “Why I’m really here?” he repeated, his tone light but with a flicker of something deeper. “I’d like to think it’s obvious.”

You raised an eyebrow, the skepticism in your expression enough to earn a quiet chuckle from him. “It’s not,” you said, leaning back slightly. “You’re hard to figure out.”

He took a sip of his drink, his visible eye fixed on you, studying, softening.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before,” he said suddenly, his tone quieter, more thoughtful now. “And that’s... rare for me. You don’t make it easy, but I like that.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, but you weren’t about to let him see how much they affected you. “So you’re saying I’m difficult?” you quipped, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Very,” he replied smoothly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dipping into something almost playful. “But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t worth it.”

That hit harder than you expected, and you swallowed, glancing down at your glass to avoid his gaze. “You don’t even know me,” you murmured, but your voice lacked the conviction it once had.

“I know enough,” he countered, and the softness in his voice made your breath hitch. “I know that you’re strong. Stubborn, too. I know you’ve been through hell and back, but you haven’t let it break you. And I know that when you look at me, you’re still trying to decide if I’m worth trusting.”

You froze, his words cutting through the carefully constructed walls you’d been trying so hard to keep up. “And what if I decide you’re not?” you challenged, though the waver in your voice betrayed you.

Kakashi leaned back slightly, his smile shifting into something more sincere, almost wistful. “Then I’ll have to keep proving that I am.”

The simplicity of his answer—how calm and certain he sounded—made something inside you crack. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the space between you charged with a tension that felt almost tangible.

“Kakashi…” you started, but the way he was looking at you—so steady, so unshakable—made your words falter.

“I’m not perfect,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that made you look at him again. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ll probably make more. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s this.” His voice dropped, his gaze unwavering. “You’re worth the effort.”

Your breath caught, and the resolve you’d clung to so desperately finally crumbled. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, closing the space between you.

Kakashi didn’t hesitate. His lips met yours softly at first, testing, but the warmth of his kiss quickly deepened as his hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face gently toward him. His touch was deliberate yet careful, like he was holding something fragile.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting lightly against his, the air between you was heavy and electric. His thumb brushed your cheek, and the corner of his lips quirked into a smirk.

“Was that convincing enough?” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar teasing edge, though his gaze held nothing but sincerity.

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest tight but lighter than it had felt in a long time. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice teasing but your heart already betraying you.

Kakashi chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you realized with a jolt that, for the first time, you weren’t afraid of letting him in.

The café was quieter now, the hum of conversation from other tables fading as the night wore on. You leaned back in your chair, watching Kakashi as he lazily spun the last sip of tea in his cup. He wasn’t in a rush, not even close. In fact, it felt like he was trying to stretch time, holding onto every second of this evening.

“Do you always do that?” you asked suddenly, tilting your head at him.

“Do what?” His visible eye lifted toward you, curious.

“Act like nothing affects you. Like you’re always one step ahead.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair and resting his elbow on the armrest. “Maybe I am one step ahead.”

You gave him a skeptical look, crossing your arms. “I don’t buy it.”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “It’s not that nothing affects me. I just don’t show it unless I want to.”

There it was—that honesty he had a habit of slipping in when you least expected it. It wasn’t showy or dramatic, but it caught you off guard every time. You felt your defenses lowering without even realizing it.

“Why show it now?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Because you don’t buy it,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours and holding it.

It was such a Kakashi answer—straightforward, disarming, and oddly intimate. You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you picked at the edge of your napkin, trying to find your footing again.

“What about you?” he asked, breaking the silence. “What do you show people?”

You blinked at the question, startled by how direct it was. “That’s not fair,” you said, your lips curving into a faint smile despite yourself. “I’m not the one with a mask on.”

Kakashi chuckled at that, low and warm. “Touché.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “But the mask doesn’t hide everything, you know.”

You couldn’t tell if it was the way he said it or the way he looked at you, but something about that moment made your breath hitch. His gaze felt heavier now, less playful, like he was studying you in a way no one else ever had.

“You’re not what I expected,” you admitted softly, breaking the tension before it could overwhelm you.

“Good or bad?” he asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks warm. “Different.”

He smiled at that, not a smirk this time, but a real smile, subtle but there. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The night wrapped itself around the two of you as the café began to close, but neither of you seemed eager to leave. When Kakashi finally stood and gestured toward the door, you found yourself following without hesitation.

The walk home was quieter, more reflective, but that same connection lingered, hanging between you both like an unspoken agreement. It wasn’t until you reached your door that the tension came to a head, your heart pounding as Kakashi lingered just a little too close.

“You’re dangerous,” you said softly, half to yourself.

“Am I?” he asked, stopping just slightly in front of you. You turned to look at him, and for the first time all night, his expression was unreadable, his single visible eye searching yours.

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “You make it really hard to keep my guard up.”

Kakashi tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. “Maybe that’s the point.”

Your breath hitched as the space between you suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. He didn’t move closer, didn’t touch you, but his presence was overwhelming—calm, steady, but intoxicating all the same.

“Do you always talk like this?” you asked, trying to sound teasing, though your voice betrayed you.

“Only when it matters,” he replied softly, his tone serious enough to make your heart stutter.

For a moment, you both stood there, the world around you fading into nothing. Then, almost as if pulled by an invisible force, you took a step closer. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

Kakashi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, and in one smooth motion, he leaned down, his hand ghosting lightly against your arm. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your skin.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you closed the space between you, your hands brushing the fabric of his shirt as you tilted your face up to meet him. His lips found yours, slow and deliberate, the kiss starting gentle but quickly unraveling into something deeper, something more consuming.

His mask had slipped somewhere in the moment, and his uncovered lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent warmth pooling through you. His hands settled at your waist, firm but not forceful, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his soft groan vibrating against your mouth. It was electrifying, intoxicating, and it left you breathless when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead lightly against yours. His breathing was uneven, and the intensity in his gaze made your knees weak.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he said softly, almost like a confession.

You smiled, your hands still resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “Guess we’ll ruin each other then.”

His laugh was low, warm, and entirely unguarded as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his hand lingering at the small of your back as he finally murmured. He looks down at you, his eyes searching yours in the dim light.

"I've never felt this way before,"he admits, his voice low and sincere. Kakashi takes a deep breath, he reaches out, gently tilting your chin up with his thumb, his gaze intense as he leans in closer.

Your breath catches in your throat as Kakashi's thumb tilts your chin upwards, his piercing gaze holding yours captive. You swallows, your heart pounding in anticipation of what's to come.

"Me neither." When your mouths finally touch again, you let out a soft moan, melting into the kiss. Your arms wrap around Kakashi's neck, pulling him closer.

He groans low in his throat, desire surging through him like a raging inferno. His hands roam over your curves, mapping the contours of your body as if committing every inch to memory. When you two break apart for air, Kakashi's breathing is ragged, his eyes blazing with lust. He takes your hand, leading you swiftly back to your home, urgency propelling his steps. Once inside, he pins you against the door, kissing you fiercely.

"I need you,"he growls against your lips, his voice husky with want.

His hands shake slightly as he frees your breasts from your kimono, cupping the soft mounds and thumbs brushing over your nipples. A gasp escapes you, and he captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing the sound.

"Please,"he breathes against your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his fingers find the delicate folds between your thighs."Let me make you mine..."His movements become more urgent while your body arches involuntarily as Kakashi's skilled fingers tease your most sensitive areas, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. You whimper into his demanding kiss and your hips buck reflexively, seeking more of his touch.

"Yes... please..."you manages to gasp out, your voice thick with need.

Kakashi's other hand slips beneath your robe, finding the warm, supple skin of your thigh. He drags his palm upward, his calloused fingertips grazing the delicate inner curves as he inches closer to your aching core.

"So responsive, so perfect,"he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust and admiration. Kakashi's fingers brush against the slick folds of your pussy, gathering the evidence of your arousal before delving inside. He crooks two digits, searching for that elusive spot that will send you soaring.

"Let go for me, Y/N,"he urges, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cries out, your back arching off the bed, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around nothing as your orgasm rips through you.

"Kakashi" you moan his name, as the aftershocks subside, you collapses back onto the mattress, panting heavily. You look up at Kakashi with glazed, lust-drunk eyes, a dazed smile curving your lips.Kakashi's lips move possessively over you and your body.

Breaking the kiss, Kakashi trails his lips along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before whispering, "You're incredible. So beautiful, so sexy..."

His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and hollow with reverent touches. Kakashi's thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks that ache for his attention. "Tell me that you want me too, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. "Let me please you..."

“I want you too, Kakashi...”you whisper and with that, Kakashi starts to undress you completly “Beautiful…” you blush under his glance while he murmurs, his lips trailing up the curve of your neck to nibble at your earlobe.His hands cup and knead the supple mounds, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples through the fabric.

Kakashi straightens, his own chest heaving with desire as he steps back to admire the sight of your half-naked and wanting. A wicked grin spreads across his face."Let's get rid of the rest of these clothes, shall we?"

With deft fingers, Kakashi unties the sash around your waist, letting your skirt pool at your feet. His eyes roam hungrily over your body, lingering on the swell of your hips and the gentle flare of your thighs.

Without waiting for a response, Kakashi drops to his knees and pushes the flimsy fabric aside, exposing your glistening folds to his ravenous gaze.

His tongue darts out, licking a slow, deliberate path along your slick slit, he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he delves deeper, swirling his tongue around your clit with increasing fervor.

Maintaining eye contact, Kakashi sucks gently on your nub, relishing the way she trembles and gasps above him. He slides a finger inside you, curling it to stroke that elusive spot within you that makes you moan uncontrollably.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against you, your hips buck wildly into Kakashi's face as he devours you, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in yourcore. You throws your head back, crying out

"Oh my.... "you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer."Don't stop, please" He continues to lap at you, coaxing out every last tremor until you goes limp beneath him, panting and spent. Only then does he release you, sitting back on his heels to admire the flushed, dazed beauty before him.

"So good... "Kakashi purrs, dragging his thumb through the remnants of your arousal and bringing it to his mouth for a taste and you watch in daze, blushing so hard.Kakashi swiftly undoes his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock and yoru breath hitch in your throat. He positions himself between your thighs, rubbing the swollen head against your slick entrance.

Slowly, he sinks deeper, savoring each inch of your tight heat enveloping him. Once fully sheathed, he pauses to relish the feeling, his hips pressing firmly against you.

"Fucking perfect," Kakashi groans, beginning to thrust in a steady rhythm, you gasp sharply as Kakashi enters you, you wrap your legs around his waist to urge him deeper.Soon he sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.

"Kakashi....fuck...Like that... "your beg breathlessly, meeting each of his thrusts with your own eager movements.

Your body tenses, coiling tighter as the pressure builds toward a shattering climax. Kakashi groans low in his throat, each word from your lips sends a jolt straight to his core, fueling his lustful desire.

"You're mine now... all mine,"Kakashi declares possessively, pounding into you with renewed vigor, his breathing ragged. He leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim you as his own.

With a final, powerful thrust, Kakashi buries himself to the hilt, his member throbbing as both of you reaches your peaks.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight slipping through the cracks of the curtains. Everything was quiet now, save for the rhythmic sound of your breaths mingling in the stillness. Kakashi lay beside you, the mask and armor he carried with him every day stripped away in the intimacy of the moment.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His hair was tousled, and his sharingan was covered, leaving only his dark, unreadable eye visible. But it wasn’t unreadable to you—not anymore. There was a softness there, something so raw and genuine it made your chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask.

You turned to him, still catching your breath, and nodded. “Yeah. Are you?”

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Better than okay,” he murmured, his fingers lingering against your skin for a moment longer.

The silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Kakashi leaned over and grabbed the blanket from the edge of the bed, pulling it over both of you with a kind of quiet care that made your heart swell. He shifted closer, his body warm against yours, and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly, his hand trailing absentmindedly along your back. “I just... wanted you to know I’m here.”

It wasn’t grand or poetic, but it was Kakashi. No unnecessary promises, no overcompensating gestures—just the steady reassurance of his presence.

You tilted your head up slightly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, with a small smile, you reached up and cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”

His eye crinkled in that familiar way, his smile lazy but tender. “I think you’re worth the effort.”

That was Kakashi—always knowing just the right thing to say, but never in a way that felt rehearsed. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and gentle.

As you nestled closer, the weight of the world outside the room faded. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in warmth and quiet intimacy, finding comfort in the shared vulnerability of the night and the more days that will come now that you accepted your fate.

[actuallysaiyan]

I Just Want To Be The One You Love(Virgin!Naruto x Fem!Reader\Virgin!Sasuke x Fem!Reader)

warnings: virginity loss, unprotected sex, making out, kissing, vaginal play, smutty themes, post-war Naruto and Sasuke pairings: Virgin!Naruto x Fem!Reader and Virgin!Sasuke x Fem!Reader a/n: This is the first post from my poll! I hope you all enjoy! It's been a hot minute since I wrote for either Naruto and Sasuke!

Smut under the cut!

He’s so shy and timid about everything. Especially since you’re a little more experienced than him. But it’s the way you’re so soft and sweet with him that makes him just absolutely melt into your touch.

He never thought he’d be able to have a love like this. Naruto figured he’d probably just end up alone once again despite being the hero. With everything else that has gone on in his life, he never knew to expect such a sweetness that is you.

The man cums within minutes. He looks up at you as you ride his cock, and he’s just a whining mess. Naruto can’t control his noises either, which is no surprise.

Naruto looks up at you, his eyes hooded as the lust takes over him. You two have been kissing and making out for a good while now, and he feels his cock might explode if you don’t show him even the least bit of pleasure. You just don’t want this to end too fast, considering it is his first time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I’m so lucky.”

You giggle, “I’m the lucky one.”

You slowly maneuver yourself to straddle him. Then you help pull down his pants and boxers. Your eyes widen a bit when you see his length. He’s quite well-endowed. It’s so thick too with such a pretty pink tip. You’re pretty much drooling at just the sight of his erection. He blushes at your reaction, trying to hide his cock.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” you let out.

Naruto chuckles nervously, “I-is that good?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, baby. But I’d love you just the same if you weren’t.”

He feels his heart fill with love. You’re truly an angel to him. You’re always so sweet and so kind, knowing just what to say. You begin smearing the precum that’s leaking out of the tip before you stroke him. Naruto whimpers and his hips buck up for a bit more stimulation.

“You like that, baby?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

“Fuck yeah…”

His voice is raspy and full of lust. It doesn’t take long for you to strip down and you guide the tip of his cock to your dripping pussy. He’s not sure if he should look as you take his virginity. He worries that just watching your cunt swallow up his cock might make him cum immediately. You giggle at how cute he looks like this.

“You ready?” You question, looking into his hooded eyes to see what he truly wants.

“Uh huh, please.” He pleads softly. 

Slowly, you begin sinking down on his cock. The noises coming from Naruto are feral and wild. He’s never felt such warmth like this before. It’s so intense and it’s wet and slippery too. He begins panting as you let him bottom out. The pulsing and squeezing from your walls would definitely be enough to get him to blow his load right here and now.

You begin rocking your hips, tentative at first and then with a bit more vigor. Based on the look on Naruto’s face, you know this isn’t going to last long at all. But you also know that based on his stamina, it shouldn't take long for him to recover and to be able to fuck you for longer.

“So good,” he whines. “So fucking good.”

You giggle softly and lean in to kiss him. The moment your tongues touch, he’s a goner. With loud grunts and desperate moans, Naruto pumps into you. His warm, thick cum begins coating your insides as you help him ride out the rest of his high pleasurably. Eventually, you slow to a stop and lean in to kiss him again.

“I love you, Naruto.” You tell him so gently.

“I love you too,” he rubs his nose against yours. “Can we do it again?”

Sasuke is a bit more brooding after the war. He’s not really sure what he wants. But when you two meet up after he comes home from his walk of atonement, he finds himself completely smitten with you.

He’s definitely nowhere near as experienced as you are, but he doesn’t even let you know that. Any kind of fumbling or slight error on his part, he passes it off as something he wanted to do. It ends up with lots of surprising things for you.

Sasuke lasts a little longer than Naruto, but not by much. When you let him slip into you the first time, he becomes completely addicted to the feeling of you surrounding him.

It’s after a few drinks of sake that you have Sasuke come up to your apartment with you. You’re both a little tipsy, but there’s so much warmth between the two of you. You’ve never seen Sasuke quite like this and it really warms your heart. Once you two reach your bedroom, Sasuke finally takes initiative and he cups your cheek.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for some time now,” he tells you before he presses his lips to yours.

You’re almost breathless at this kiss. He’s so good to you. You know what people think of him, but you’ve never wanted to believe that he was truly an awful person. He’s gone through so much in his life, and you’ve always wanted to just be a friend to him. But now you think you might be something more…no, you know you’re something more.

Within seconds, the two of you are making out fiercely. Teeth clashing and tongues rubbing together, fighting for dominance. Sasuke pushes you onto your bed and he crawls on top of you. You’ve never felt this way before; both like prey and like a lover. It excites you in ways you never thought you’d experience.

“You’re so cute,” Sasuke comments, blushing a little from how intense all of this is.

“You’re so handsome,” you compliment him right back.

Then the kisses turn a little more sweet. Sasuke helps you undress and you help him undress as well. The more of his body you uncover, the more you find yourself becoming aroused. He’s so damn gorgeous. Even with the few scars scattered here and there, you still find him to be so breathtaking.

Sasuke leans against you, kissing your lips with hunger. His fingers gently part your wet folds, and he teases your clit to make you whine. You let him play with your pussy for a few minutes, just getting you even more wet than you were just from the kissing. Then he looks into your eyes to make sure you have no regrets. When he sees the love you hold for him, his heart melts.

“C-can I…” he tries to figure out the right words for this.

You cup his cheek, “Of course, Sasuke. I’m yours.”

He doesn’t need to hear anything else. He spreads your thighs and begins stroking his long cock. You’ve never seen one that size before. You wonder if all the Uchiha men were blessed as well as Sasuke is. Then he spits into his palm and spreads it over the already leaking tip.

There’s a moment of silence before he slowly pushes into you, and already his head is whirling from the sensations of your tight walls pulling him in. They pulse in such a way that he needs to control his breathing so he doesn’t cum right away. Sasuke wants to last long enough to get you to cum.

“Is that okay?” He asks, and you nod eagerly.

“It feels so good,”

He can tell considering your walls are just fluttering around him wildly, trying to accommodate for his large size. His hand grips your hip and he begins pumping into you. It’s a little sloppy and inexperienced at first, but eventually he finds his rhythm. It becomes a little too much when you moan for him and begin cooing words of love.

He lets his thumb come to rub your swollen clit, and he tries to angle his hips perfectly so that you can feel the head of his cock brushing up against the sweet spot inside of you. It’s when you start squeezing his cock with those tight and warm walls that he knows he can’t last much longer.

“Hnnng…gonna cum!” He cries out and holds onto you tighter.

Sasuke snaps his hips faster and sloppier until he’s cumming deep inside of you. With every spurt of cum, he pumps into you harder and deeper. Eventually, he just slumps on top of you. When he feels your hands in his hair and your lips on the top of his head, he knows he’s in love with you.

“We can do it again,” Sasuke suggests.

[lifeafterartsch00l]

My fav sns smut

or some of it anyway

If Naruto x Sasuke fking nasty is your ☕️

I tried to find all these beloved authors to tag them, but I couldn’t find them all, if you know who they are, plz tag them! Let’s share the ❤️

In no particular order

Healing the Broken by KizuKatana

When people tell me about smut they read in printed books I’m like

Because it’s fics like these that amaze me with their ingenuity, creativity, originality, and boldness 🔥🔥🔥

AKA

This fic isn’t just PWP (although that’s fine too in my book), it’s so well written with character development, action & romance ❤️‍🔥 Predators by the same author is also excellent 👌🏽

Thx u @kizukatana 😊

“Chapters: 23/23

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Underage

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke

Additional Tags: Angst, SPOILERS MANGA CHAPTER 693, Drug Use, sex during drug use, Canon-Typical Violence, canon!sasuke, canon!naruto, Addiction, Slash, narusasunaru, Fix-It, my version of how it should have ended, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, NSFW, Smut

Series: Part 1 of HTB universe

Summary: The war is over, and Sasuke is brought back to the village after his defeat by Naruto. But he is struggling to re-assimilate into the village. As his mental stability continues to erode, Tsunade and Kakashi ask Naruto to try a different treatment method. Naruto x Sasuke (slash - boy x boy). Post manga chapter 693.

Warning: Hard Yaoi (Boy x Boy) language, angst, mental illness, substance abuse, masturbation, eventual sex. Not appropriate for young readers. 18+

Disclaimer - As with everything I write on this site, I don't own the characters (Kishimoto does), and I make no money. My only payment is in reviews.

Spanish Translation by Linme (thank you!) “

[doujinshi] My Lost Himawari by SouthNorthSound

Me, to the artist (and English translator) of this visually stunning and well written doujinshi -

Seriously. It’s amazing. The visual metaphors. The angst. The way the artist can simply draw a single panel of a close-up Uchiha eye that is so outrageously sultry and sexy I don’t understand 🥵 one of the extra chapters unlocked something in me (the dream one). Bonus that it’s also really funny & has a lot of respect/empathy for its women characters too! If anyone knows who this artist plz let me know I would like to follow them until the end of the world ❤️ the ending healed me 💔

EDIT HOLY S*** GUYS I FOUND THE TRANSLATOR & ARTIST ON TUMBLR

Thx u @southnorthsound 😭❤️🫡🙇🏻‍♀️

Thx u @gigihorseinthehouse 😭 I love you I low key think you’re a genius ok sorry bye 👉🏽👈🏽

"https://archiveofourown.org/works/36581581

[doujinshi] My Lost Himawari by SouthNorthSound

Chapters: 60/60

Fandom: Naruto, Boruto: Naruto Next Generations

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Hinata, Uchiha Sarada, Uzumaki Boruto, Uzumaki Himawari, Hatake Kakashi, Nara Shikamaru, Temari (Naruto), Nara Shikadai, Akimichi Chouchou, Gaara (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Fanart, Fan Comics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, SasuNaru - Freeform, NaruSasu - Freeform, Translation, Doujinshi, Fix-It, how it should have ended, Angst, If you don’t understand how they ended up like that in Boruto READ THIS, Poetic, comedic, Loyal to canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, NSFW Art, Sex

Summary: A love story consists of different perspectives and different memories. It’s about saudade / realization / entanglement / out of control / hope / restart

Chapter700 background

Warning: adult content in extra chapters

Fan comics, doujinshi. It's highly recommended to read it on big screens such as iPad or PC. So you can see details about their facial expressions

One of the best Naruto fanart I’ve ever seen. So I translated it ❤”

Inevitablity by Sanauria_Maldhun

If the answer is

A) Yes

B) Kinda

C) Mind your own business rando internet pervert

Congrats all answers are correct = GO READ IT PLZ

Possessive & desperate 🥵 super gay, delicious angst, really hot 🔥 very enjoyable - fun tropes, everything hits just right, utter perfection ❤️ I’m not saying a lot because I don’t want to give away spoilers 😍

I couldn’t find this author on tumblr, plz tag in the comments if you know who they are!

“Chapters: 4/4

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura

Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, (between Ino and Naruto), Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Banter, Domesticity, Pining, Naruto is so in love, and doesn't know how to handle his Feelings, Jealousy, Jealous Sasuke, Jealous Sakura, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Bottom Uzumaki Naruto, Top Uchiha Sasuke

Summary: Naruto's stressed and pining after a man who views him only as a friend. Deciding to get married to Ino isn't the best decision he's made (ever), given that they had been absolutely drunk while making such a declaration, but it's... a decision. Besides, what does he have to lose?”

You’ve gotten into my bloodstream (a bite of his heart) by lovenmaze

Nom nom nom 😉 kidding! Not literal cannibalism, it’s a metaphor for love, and this fic is beautiful 😍 poetic & sexy. One shot. Love how Naruto talks to Sasuke in this one (and makes him talk, too, hehe…) 🥵 delicious, please go tuck into this feast ❤️ author made an excellent fic playlist too!

Thx u @lovenmaze 😊

“https://archiveofourown.org/works/56430019

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto

Additional Tags: Cannibalistic Thoughts, Cannibalism imagery, First Time, Top Uzumaki Naruto, Bottom Uchiha Sasuke, Tender Sex, Blank Period (Naruto), Confessions, Idiots in Love, Not Beta Read, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Sex, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Smut, they’re both crazy about each other but thats not new, Poetic, Italicized Oh Moment, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, trust me it works and its SO good, consent is sexy !!!, lowkey vampire sasuke vibes

Summary: Sasuke tries to bite softly, he’s not going to eat him, maybe get a taste. Perhaps it’s stupid, but he wants to make sure, so he does. He opens his mouth, tongue touching the skin. His body shudders, and Naruto tastes warm, like skin or flesh; he tastes alive.

“A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.”

AKA, The tender, fluffy, first-time, cannibalism (imagery), smut NaruSasu AU. [EDITED.]”

❤️Thx all u amazing authors u make me feel like this❤️

[aaizawashouta]

Welcome Home

pairing: jiraiya x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you're there every time to welcome him home, until the one time you're not.

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni) fingering, p in v, cream pie

Touch and go is how your relationship has always been. You’ve never complained. Always welcoming him home with open arms, ears eager to hear of his travels. The closer he gets back to Konoha the more he can taste your perfume—hints of honey and coconut twirling on his tongue. He’s been gone longer than usual this time. It’s made him antsy. His hands twitch at his side as he walks through the village. He feels almost desperate to get home, something that’s never happened before.

He’s never taken advantage of you, never sought you out for only pleasure. He’s never talked about his feelings, so sure that you understood. Given, you’ve never talked about your feelings either. Jiraiya, the fool that he is, thought all was well. Except for the fact that you aren’t there when he gets home. From the looks of it, you haven’t been there for a while. It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is fine. He’ll find you eventually.

Everything is not fine. It’s not okay. He’s losing his damned mind trying to find you. It’s been two days. Where could you possibly be? That’s when he sees him. Jiraiya’s eyes narrow as he tracks him, walking along the village without a care in the world, nose shoved deep into the book he’s emerged himself in. It’s not long before he’s caught up with Kakashi. They walk along in silence for a while, Jiraiya’s hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, impatience washing over him.

Finally, Kakashi sighs, dropping his arm. One eye lifting to meet the agitated gaze of the sannin. “Good to see you, Jiraiya.”

“Kakashi,”

“You haven’t talked to her?”

Jiraiya’s eye twitches. “I can’t find her.”

Kakashi hums. “She’s not back from the mission, then.”

It was like a bomb had been dropped on him. Everything he thought he knew about you was wrong. But he’s to blame. He’s the one constantly leaving. He’s the one who keeps you at arms length. If he wanted to know, he’d ask. A lump of uncertainty forms in Jiraiya’s throat. He’s not a fan of the feeling. He doesn’t like you being gone. A shinobi? You’re more amazing than he’d thought, and it irks him. He’s an idiot. The two of you have been at this for, well, years, and he honestly thought that you were a civilian whose whole world revolved around him. He doesn’t say anything to Kakashi. He’s defeated by you and you aren’t even here to witness it.

“You really don’t have a clue, do you?” Jiraiya stares at him, making Kakashi sigh. “Follow me.”

Kakashi isn’t sure why he has the photo to begin with, but he’s glad he has it. Probably something of Naruto’s that he has for safe keeping. He finds it in a stack next to his bedroom dresser. He smiles at the photo before handing it over to the older man.

The two of you are standing together, Jiraiya’s arm thrown over your shoulders holding you tightly to him. His head is tossed back in a boisterous laugh, you can almost hear it echoing from the memory. You’ve got your arm around his waist, body completely molded to him as you watch him. Doe eyes looking up, lips parted in a small lovestruck smile. It’s a snapshot of the pure adoration and love you hold for him.

It’s not something you hide. It’s not a secret by any means. But gods, is Jiraiya seeing it for the very first time.

It’s early when you get home. Eyes burning from lack of sleep, dirt under your nails and in your hair. A nice hot shower is calling your name. It takes you three tries to unlock the door. So set on getting to the shower, you miss the hints of another presence in your home completely. Tearing off your vest while pulling your shoes off along the way, leaving the clothes scattered on the floor on your way to the bathroom. You come to a stop when you see your bedroom door open.

Now you’ve been gone for a month or so, but you do the same routine every time. Every door is shut when you leave. Every time. But the bedroom door is open. Biting your cheek, you move down the hallway to see that the bathroom door is open as well. Why? Who's been in your house? Are they still here? You freeze, senses running wild. If they were still here, they wouldn’t make it far.

The faintest sound of scratching reaches your ears. What, is there a rat in your house? As silent as you can, you follow the sounds. Leading to your bedroom, you slightly push the door open, a flurry of emotions overcoming you. Sitting at the desk is Jiraiya, bent over slightly as he pen scratches at the paper. No doubt furiously writing away for the next installment of his books. Stepping into the room you make your way to him, throwing your arms around his shoulders. He’s solid against you, the warmth of him seeping into you. You nuzzle your face in between his shoulders, more than happy to be home. Happy to finally have him home.

“Hey, kid,” he says with a laugh.

“Hey yourself. Missed you.”

His whole body relaxes at your words. Silently he turns, pulling you in closer until you’re seated on his lap. Thick fingers tangle up into the roots of your hair, angling you just so. You can’t help the moan when his lips meet yours. You aren’t sure how long he had been gone this time around. Only that it was too long and you didn’t like it. Normally you could get missions completed between the times he comes and goes. This had been rough.

“Missed your old man, did ya?”

You can’t help but snicker. “My old man?”

“Well I don’t belong to anyone else do I?” His lips trail up your neck, teasing at your ear. “I missed you too, kid.”

His hands release your hair, only to grip your face, thumbs running softly against your cheekbones. You’re doe eyed as you stare up at him. He hums as he stares back, so lovestruck it blindsides you.

“I love you.”

“Jiraiya,” The words make your heart stop. You never thought you’d hear them, and you’ve always been okay with that.

He doesn’t give you a moment to respond. “Let me show you.”

He stands, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist as he walks over to your shared bed. Your hands roam his body as he pulls off his own clothes. His tongue drags across your fluttering pulse, and when he sucks your skin hard enough to leave a bruise, your fingers splayed open on his broad shoulders, digging into the taut muscle that flexes as he draws you closer. Calloused hands pull at your shirt, the cool morning air drawing your nipples taunt.

His hands slide down your back, holding you close as he leans forward and lays you down on the sea of blankets. You’ve been together too long for you to be embarrassed by the whimper of a moan that escapes you when his teeth tug harder on your nipple before laving the ache with his tongue while his hand palms your other breast, playing mercilessly with the nipple until your back is arching off the mattress, eyes rolling back.

His hand falls away from your breast, and you nearly squeak in indignation until the feel of his calloused fingers slides between your thighs. Fingers dig into the stretchy material of your shorts, your own hands trailing down to free your body of the material. Jiraiya groans, watching you.

“I knew you weren’t wearing any panties.”

“Never do.”

You’ve never given it much thought, but if you had to imagine heaven, this would be it. A sunlit morning, tangled sheets, gentle words, rough hands. An endless loop of intimate moments, of vulnerable confessions, of whispered promises, of sex so intense your mind fractures and pieces itself back together. Your souls touch, they echo across countless lifetimes.

Jiraiya’s thumb teases your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that make your legs spasm every time the callous on the side of his thumb grazes the bud of nerves, lighting up every nerve ending in your body like a firework show.

You attempt to tug him closer, to shift your hips forward, to add more pressure, to silently ask him to go faster. Gods, please go faster. But he doesn't oblige. Rather, he pulls your hands off his body and locks them into an inescapable hold above your head, pinned against the pillows — a silent demand to not rush him, to let him take his time. A silent promise to make it worth your while.

When his thumb finds your clit again it's an even softer touch — a whisper rather than steady contact. And somehow, somehow that barely there touch, that torturously reserved brush of his thumb has your eyes flying wide and your back arching off the bed so intensely your breath lodges in your throat.

You tug, trying to get your wrists free, the demand to pull him closer nearly short-circuiting your brain, but his hold on them doesn't budge.

"Mmm, how do you want to come, pretty?" He hums against your skin, biting down on the hickey he's leaving on the swell of your breast before moving his attention to the other one. His thumb keeps a teasing pace on your clit, giving you more pressure and easing off just when the pressure in your lower belly begins to build.

Up, up, up and then gone.

So close, so so close, and then poof.

Gone.

His tongue drags across your nipple before he pulls back and blows a cool breath of air across the glistening nerves, sending a rush of goosebumps across your entire body.

His thumb adds a little more pressure, a little more friction, and you’re sure you might cry. You might actually cry. It feels so good.

Your entire body is tense, nearly about to hit that peak when he pulls his thumb away again.

Your head slams back against the bed, frustration flooding your veins. Your orgasm is trying to break free, to claw its way out of you. Like water receding from the shore before a tsunami, the air in your lungs is gone, the control over your shaking legs, your shaking arms, your shaking hands — towed away from you.

He sucks on your nipple hard enough to fling white dots over your vision like confetti, and even now, you can feel the haughty smile tugging at his lips as he pulls back to watch you writhe under him because he knows, he knows you're too far gone to answer him.

"Like this?" he slides a finger into you and you nearly shatter. Nearly, nearly, nearly. Please.

You can't breathe. You can't think. You can't respond. You shake your head and tug your wrists feebly. You want him. You want him.

He adds another finger and you moan so loud it echoes back to you.

He curses, pulls his fingers away, and as you nearly break into hysterics at the loss of contact, at the loss of the climax that was so close you could nearly taste the endorphins on your tongue, he releases your wrists and wraps your legs around his hips.

"No. No sweet girl, you're going to come with my cock buried deep in your pretty pussy." His words are a promise against your ear and finally, finally he thrusts into you as he murmurs against your lips. "Come on my cock, kid. Let me see how fucking gorgeous you are when you come on my cock. Let me know how much you really missed me."

It's instantaneous. The tsunami hits with the first thrust of his hips and your throat burns with the scream that rips through your room. It's nearly a sob — a sob of relief, a sob of ecstasy, a sob of pure pleasure.

Every nerve in your body is a live wire, lighting up with the kind of mind numbing sensation that pulls you down so deep you can't process anything other than the feel of the waves. Like you’re just under the surface of the ocean, being pulled along with each rise and crash of the tide.

And then you blink and see the brilliant sunlight coaxing you back toward the surface, back to the air, back to reality. And it's only when you break the surface and your lungs unfreeze, helplessly tasting your first breath of air since they froze in your chest, that you realize the sun has been shrouded by a passing storm cloud, and the light, that brilliant light that brought you back is still here, radiating from the man on top of you. His face is nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his hips reaching a crescendo that sends another aftershock of pleasure flooding up your spine and he buries himself deep inside of you and stills, the heat of his climax pulsing inside of you, sliding down your thighs.

The room is silent other than your heavy breathing. Your fingers card through his hair, his lips grazing your collarbones. It’s only when your breathing steadies and your body completely relaxes that Jiraiya scoops you up and heads into the shower.

I love you. He whispers the words again and again as he washes you. Lips pressed against your skin as if he can force his love into you. Your heart soars. Tucked into bed, eyes droopy from exhaustion, Jiraiya hands over the photo. You can feel his gaze taking you in as you run your finger lightly over his laughing face, not even concerned about yourself. He presses a kiss against your temple, mouthing the words with a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too.”

And you don’t know where you’ll go from here. If your path will continue to entwine with his. You do know your heart will never belong to another. He’s opening himself up, learning, and he’s doing it all for you.

[knoepfl]

Heyyy~ Could u maybe write a story with Madara Uchiha. I was thinking like he and the reader are fighting in war against each BUT they had an affair for a longer time, and then things get interesting while they're in the middle of fighting. It could be just intense or smut idc about that just write how it's more comfortable for you. PLEASEE 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Ps Love your writing style.

Of course! I haven't watched Naruto in such a long time so I really hope this satisfies you^^ I'm very grateful for your request if you have any more let me know!

Title: "Between War and Desire"

Word Count: 2,753 Trigger Warnings: Mentions of war, emotional conflict, violence, themes of betrayal, and intimacy.

Masterlist

The battlefield stretched before you in ruins, jagged earth and lifeless bodies scattered like broken promises. Dust swirled in the wind, mixing with the scent of blood and decay. The cries of the wounded faded into the distance, drowned by the sound of your heartbeat. But all you saw was him — Madara Uchiha, standing a few paces away, his Sharingan blazing with cold fury.

To the others, he was the bringer of destruction, the enemy who sought to tear the world apart. But to you, he was more than just a warlord cloaked in arrogance and shadow. He was the man whose lips had caressed your skin, whose hands had known the shape of your body better than any blade knew its wielder.

He was the one who whispered your name like it meant everything — and nothing at all.

"Don’t make me do this," Madara said, his voice deep and dangerous, yet laced with an edge of something unfamiliar. You knew that tone well. It was the sound of a man who wanted something he couldn’t have.

You tightened your grip on your weapon, fighting the instinct to believe his words, the part of you that still longed to trust him. "We all have choices. Even you."

His jaw tensed, and for a moment, the fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something far more complicated. He took a step closer, as if closing the distance might erase the line between what you were now and what you used to be.

The memory hit you without warning.

You were standing under a starless sky, your back pressed against a tree as Madara’s hand traced the curve of your shoulder. His touch had been hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed — as though one touch might break whatever fragile thing lay between you. But once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. His lips followed the path his hand had taken, pressing against your skin like a vow only the night could witness.

"You’re a distraction," he had whispered, his breath warm against your neck, even as his hand slid lower, pulling you closer. "And I can’t afford distractions."

You had smiled against his mouth, knowing he wouldn’t let you go. "Then stop coming back."

But he hadn’t stopped. Night after night, he found his way to you. And you let him, even though every kiss, every whispered confession, felt like the kind of mistake that would eventually demand a price.

Now, on the battlefield, that price was being paid.

Madara’s fan clashed against your blade with a force that rattled your bones, the vibrations traveling up your arm and into your chest, where they settled like a dull ache. His strikes were deliberate, precise — a perfect mirror of the man you had come to know in the dark. But you could see it, buried beneath the anger in his eyes: he didn’t want to do this any more than you did.

"Why are you hesitating?" Madara demanded, his voice sharp with frustration.

You sidestepped his attack, chakra thrumming in your veins, the familiar rhythm of battle doing little to silence the storm inside your heart. "Why are you?" you shot back, knowing the answer already.

This wasn’t just a fight. It was everything unspoken between you — every stolen moment, every breathless confession whispered in the dead of night.

"You think too much," Madara muttered, his fan sweeping toward you again.

You blocked the strike and threw your weight behind your next attack, forcing him back a step. "And you pretend too well."

The blow landed heavier than any weapon ever could. You saw the flicker in his gaze, the brief, unguarded flash of guilt and regret before the mask slipped back into place.

The night before the war had started, Madara had held you close, his breath shaky and uncertain. He pressed his forehead against yours, the rare softness in his eyes making your heart ache.

"Stay with me," he murmured, his voice raw with something you didn’t want to name. "When it all falls apart… stay."

You kissed him instead of answering, pouring every unspoken emotion into that single moment. Because saying yes felt like a betrayal of everything you believed in, and saying no would have broken you both beyond repair.

"I warned you," Madara said now, his voice dragging you back to the present. "This world… it was never going to be kind to us."

"And yet, here we are," you whispered bitterly, your blade flashing in the dim light. "Still fighting for a chance we never really had."

Madara moved faster this time, his strikes coming with a ferocity that left no room for hesitation. But you knew his movements too well, the way his body shifted when he was frustrated, the flicker in his gaze when he was holding something back.

It wasn’t just rage driving him. It was everything he couldn’t say aloud. Don’t do this. Don’t make me hurt you.

The thought lingered in your mind like a poison. What if you stopped fighting? What if you dropped your weapon and reached for him? What if you gave in to the dangerous, aching hope that whispered, He could change. For you.

But could you ever trust him? Would Madara really let go of his ambitions, the power he craved, just to hold on to you? Or would he destroy you the moment you became a liability?

His fan slammed against your blade again, the force sending you skidding backward. "Come with me," he said, and for the first time, his voice wavered.

It wasn’t a command. It was a plea.

And for one terrifying moment, you imagined it — imagined dropping everything, walking away from the blood and the bodies, and letting him pull you into the shadows where the war couldn’t reach you. You could see it so clearly: his hand in yours, the weight of the world falling away as he whispered promises only the night would hear.

But some dreams were too dangerous to chase.

"You should have known better," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of everything left unsaid.

The last time you had kissed him, it had tasted like goodbye. His hands had roamed over you with a desperate urgency, memorizing every inch of your skin as if it might be the last time he’d ever touch you.

"Don’t fight me," he had begged, his lips trailing along your jaw. "Just stay with me."

You had wanted to promise him everything. But instead, you whispered, "I’ll see you on the battlefield."

His grip on you had tightened, like he could keep you from slipping away. But even Madara Uchiha couldn’t stop what was coming.

Now, as you stared at each other across the battlefield, you realized that nothing had really changed. You were still caught between love and war, between a man you once knew and a monster you could no longer trust.

Madara’s gaze lingered on you, heavy with unspoken promises and unanswered questions. But in the end, he turned away.

Just like he always did.

And you let him go. Because there were some battles you couldn’t win.

But as the wind carried the sounds of war back to you, the thought remained, buried deep in your mind like a splinter you couldn’t pull free: What if you had gone with him? What if he really would have changed, just for you?

Some questions, you realized, were meant to linger — unanswered, like the ghost of a lover’s touch long after the night has ended.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! This story was a deep dive into the space between love, loyalty, and betrayal — a place where choices hurt no matter which way they fall. I hope you enjoyed the emotional tension and lingering questions. Does Madara truly care, or is it just another layer of his ambition? Let me know your thoughts! Your support and feedback mean everything to me.

[jellycrusher]

Wolves and Lambs: Part 3

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Synopsis: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter’s Premise: "You are his mate."

Taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 @fanboyluvr @giffywiffy3408 @notyouraveragemochii @cmleitora @exotic-iris13 @topguncultleader @mirrorball-6 @barcelonaloverf1life @silscintilla

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

"Mom, how did you know Dad was The One?"

"I just knew. Your dad was a mighty Alpha, someone who commands attention and respect with every step. Out of everyone I've dated, his pheromones were the only one that affected me to such great extent. Turns out he felt the same way with my pheromones."

"Pheromones?"

"Oh my dear y/n. My sweetheart. Someday you'll know in your heart when you meet the right person."

The sound of the V6 engine. Crowds going wild. The feeling of starting on the front row. Red lights go one by one. It's a rush. Nothing can beat this.

Max was quick to snatch the lead from you on Turn 1. Charles also proved he was a tough act to beat. Ferrari's car was faster on the straights but Aston Martin has amazing rear grip during high speed corners.

And for this track with 4 long straights, fast straight line speed was needed. Even with DRS to assist you, you couldn't keep up with Charles. It was degrading your tire too much.

By lap 35, you descended to P12 after a horrific slow pit stop of 3.4 secs. The pressure got to you and you were about to radio-in your frustration but you were also quick to clear your mind.

Y/N: "What is the gap to the car ahead, Ben?!" Ben: "Albon ahead by 2 secs, then Gasly by 4 secs." Y/N: "All on old tires?"

Ben: "Confirm."

You quickly maneuvered your way on the first chicane going on the inside, easily overtaking Albon and Gasly. You gave everything that you can to battle it out with the Mercedes pair. Russell locked up and you took this opportunity to go for wide and overtake. You were in DRS range of Hamilton during the straight and you went for it as you both take the corner.

The remaining laps felt like an eternity. The confidence you had on your car the past few days didn't translate to today's race. Pre-season testing and Qualifying laps were different. Back then, you were getting a feel on the car without actually pushing it to the limit. But now? It's like getting an expensive exclusively tailored running shoe and using it for a marathon after only practicing with it for a few days.

Everyone had their difficulties on the first track of the season since this will be the first time these cars will be tested against each other's. These are experienced drivers. Driving in F2 compared to this is a whole different story.

And then the race ended much quicker than you've anticipated.

As much as you wanted a podium on your first race, it didn't happen. You were grateful to have gotten the pole position during qualifying but you repeat to yourself that P5 on your first race isn't bad. You could've given more but you aren't attuned to the car just yet. It'll get there.

You halt your car at parc ferme along with the other drivers. As you crawl and lift yourself up out the cockpit, the other drivers went on to congratulate you. Pierre and Alex were so quick to put their arm on your shoulders after you removed your helmet and balaclava.

"That was some amazing driving!"

"You got some moves, y/l/n!"

Both cheered at the same time and Pierre even rustled your hair. Yuki and Esteban joined them in congratulating you. Even the elder drivers such as Lewis and Fernando were amused at the camaraderie you've built with the other drivers.

Max was also able to notice your closeness with the other drivers from where he was standing. He had already celebrated with his mechanics and is just waiting at the side to wait for his turn while Carlos is being interviewed for finishing third.

He doesn't usually make a lot of effort to befriend any rookie but it left a bad taste on his tongue knowing that he's the only one you're not in good terms with. His friends are a good judge of characters and seems to be enjoying your company. Being the competitive person that he is, surely it won't be that hard to make you see him as a friend.

After the podium celebration and media commitments, you were summoned back to the hospitality and had a debriefing with the whole team. Datas upon datas are presented on the screen. The team discussed what worked and what didn't work during the whole race weekend.

Fernando praised how technically involved you are with the team for the car's development. In this line of work, you can't be too critical of yourself or else, it might even negatively affect your performance. P5 was a feat worth celebrating.

You ask Megan if you could stay for a bit inside the room to re-watch your race. Your notebook is your only company while you endlessly analyze every bit of your race.

It was enlightening and relaxing after an hour of working alone in the de-briefing room of the Aston Martin hospitality. You bid goodbye to the other mechanics and engineers that were still in the garage and walked across the paddock to your car.

You see, in the paddock, all hospitalities are arranged closest to farthest from the entrance based on your place in the championship last season. It's a given that the race leaders (Red Bull, Ferrari, and Mercedes) are the ones near the entrance. The midfield teams and back markers are at the end

A real Walk of Shame.

But with Alonso's and Lance's help last year, Aston Martin has now become part of the mid-field and a contender for being frontrunner.

You passed by the Ferrari hospitality when you heard Charles' voice calling out your name. He runs to catch up to you and matches your pace.

"Didn't expect you to stay behind as well." Charles called.

"I wasn't satisfied with my performance." You huffed.

"That was one of the best rookie performances on an opening race I've seen so far. Don't be too hard on yourself." He voiced. "Have fun! It's nerve-wracking but one of the best experiences you'll ever feel." Charles pats your head gently.

"You're right. I'm actually having fun looking at the reactions of the boys whenever I beat them." You joked.

"As harsh as it sounds, I'm glad there's a healthy rivalry between you and the grid. Anyways, how will you get back to the hotel?" Charles asked.

"I brought a car. How about you?"

Charles just grinned and chuckled without saying a word. As if waiting for a response.

You come to a realization on what he was hinting. "Do you want to hitch a ride with me?"

Charles did a poor attempt of a wink and did a thumbs-up gesture. You almost snorted in amusement because the man could not wink properly at all. Thank God, he's good-looking.

"As long as I'm driving." You suggest and Charles hitched a breath. "No arguments or else, I'm leaving you here." You looked around at an almost empty paddock.

He contemplated for a minute. "Fine. Just for the record, I am against this and I wanted to be a gentlemen. You owe me a car ride but next time, you're my passenger." Charles gave in and didn't insist.

"Deal."

The drive to the hotel was short but it didn't feel awkward at all. Charles was such a goofball especially when he opened the window and stuck his head out to scream. Clearly, he was on a high for bagging a podium.

There was a brief moment where you and Charles' eyes met. It was actually comforting, rather than awkward. He was comfortable being goofy around you and you were grateful that somehow this moment made you forget how you were beating yourself up because of the race result.

Charles turns up the speaker after he connects it to his phone and even invites you to sing out loud to As It Was by Harry Styles. He bobs his head so hard and screamed every lyrics out the window. You've seen the reactions of some of the people you've passed by. They're either weirded out by a strange man screaming his lungs out or amazed after they've recognized that it was the Charles Leclerc.

A crowd of people were waiting outside the hotel, screaming and cheering when you and Charles arrived at the hotel lobby. Charles waved at them and you dropped the car key to the valet. His fans were screaming his name in a deafening manner.

Charles walked towards them to sign a few merch items that the fans were holding out.

Somebody screamed out your name and it made you stop in your tracks from entering the lobby. It didn't occur to you that you would have fans this early in the season. You were just a rookie. Still a nobody.

Charles also called out your name and pointed at your fans when you turned.

Two small kids and their mom were screaming your name, beaming with joy. As you go near them, you stretched out your hand to take the shirt they're holding that visibly shows your number.

The kid was so adorable when she saw you signing her shirt. She was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing up and down while tugging her mother's shirt.

"She's a massive fan. She said she wanted to be like you when she grows up." Her mother leans slightly forward to whisper.

"Thank you so much! That's such a high honor." You replied as you knelt down and ruffled the kid's hair. "Did you watch my race?"

The kid aggressively nods. "Yes. You were great! I couldn't take my eyes off you from the screen. I promise to watch your race every time!"

"Well, then I promise that you have something worth watching for." You hand back the shirt to the kid and stood up.

Charles was done taking photos and signing stuff for the fans at the same time you were walking back to the lobby.

"Thanks for the ride! I enjoyed it." Charles turns to you after entering the lobby.

"Just rate your Uber Driver 5 stars please." You chuckle. "I enjoyed it too. You're my favorite passenger so far."

Charles was about to talk but was cut by Carlos who suddenly appeared beside him, arms crossed on his chest. You notice that he wasn't aware of your presence yet.

"Hey Charles! Why did I hear from your manager that you refused to use the car back to the hotel? You left it in the parking lot at the --"

Carlos choked at the sudden slap on his back by Charles. "Really? I wasn't aware that we had a car for me." Charles nervously muttered.

The poor man was confused at Charles' deflection but realized straight away when he noticed you watching the two of them. He stood straight up and waved at you.

"Hey Carlos! I brought back your partner in one piece. He hitched a ride with me." You cackled.

"Did he go crazy again? Turned up your speakers on max?" he asks.

"YES! He was a great passenger though." You beamed.

"Hear that? I was a 5-star passenger." Charles puffed out his chest.

"Yes, yes. Mate, you're late for dinner." Carlos said as he pats Charles' shoulder.

"Oh right!" Charles gasped. "Thank you again for the ride. If you need a driver, don't hesitate to contact me. Okay?" he adds as he slowly walk away with Carlos. You nod and gleamed in return.

It was a peaceful walk back to your room. The thrill of your first F1 race was slowly dying down. You weren't as dejected as you were a few minutes ago. Thanks to all the people who were supporting you.

Your phone buzzed as you exit the elevator. You pull it out from your pocket and saw an unexpected name.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: Hi Y/n! I just would like to congratulate you for a great race. I saw some of the highlights in the cooldown room.

Aston Martin Y/N: Thank you Max. You too, congratulations on P1!

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: So I guess you also have a team dinner?

Aston Martin Y/N: Just a simple one here at the hotel. Nothing too fancy.

Aston Martin Y/N: I'm sure Red Bull would celebrate your win.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: I didn't want to but Christian insisted. They've started to open the champagnes. Checo also brought some tequila.

Aston Martin Y/N: Tequila as a post-race reward actually sounds good right now

You assumed that was the end of your conversation but it also surprised you that it continued to go on. You were even replying to his messages during your team dinner.

Max was surprisingly easy to talk to. He could throw very hilarious jokes and even shared some memes with you that some fans have made from the Bahrain GP. The one that got you on a chokehold was a meme of George during the driver's parade. A true meme king. You almost snorted out your nose the water you were drinking while you were checking your phone.

Your constant exchange of banters with Max went on even during the two week break until the Saudi Arabia Grand Prix. You haven't yet talked to him personally outside of the phone conversations. It was easier this way. If only his scent wasn't a cause of your torment, you and Max could even be better friends.

Good thing that almost all of the drivers were so busy with media commitments come Wednesday of the Saudi Arabia GP. Even if you enjoy being text mates with Max, you still felt the need to avoid him.

In contrast with what you feel, you find yourself checking your phone almost every hour to see if you've gotten a message. It was quiet.

"How many times have I seen you checking your phone today? Are you waiting for a text?" Oscar asks as he walks with you through the paddock.

"Nah. I don't know. Kinda feels weird my phone is quiet. Must be busy." You murmured. "I heard Lando saying that you have New York Cheesecake for dessert. Can you spare some for me? Steal some from the Mclaren hospitality? Pretty please?" You hide your phone in your pocket and gestured puppy eyes at Oscar while tugging his shirt.

"Geez, you're such a sweet tooth. Fine, I'll steal some and deliver it to your garage later." Oscar replied. He effortlessly leans his arm on your head and teases you.

"Thanks Mom!" You skipped in joy.

"You have to stop calling me that. If that gets out, the people in the internet will surely start making memes of me as Mom Piastri." He jokes.

"That doesn't sound too bad, Mom." You teased the Australian Driver.

Max just got out of the Red Bull hospitality with his physio when he quickly noticed the two of you meters away from him. He takes note of how often he sees you in such a sunny disposition with the other drivers. He wanted to take out his phone and text you right then but was interrupted when his physio called him out.

It's finally race week!

The pace of your car was wonderful during FP1 and FP2 on the first day. There were no issues and the car was enjoyable to drive. You always land in P2 to P4, and it made you confident going into FP3, qualifying and the race.

However, something felt a bit odd on the second day.

Y/N: "There's a bit of a smell. A strange smell coming from the car. Is something wrong?" Ben: "Okay, we'll have a look." Y/N: "Doesn't feel different when driving but can you please double check?" Ben: "Nothing's coming up on our monitors. You can continue." Y/N: "Copy."

This started during FP3 but thankfully, you were able to finish it with no issues.

During Q1, things started to reach a decrescendo. Even the commentators were starting to get uneasy with how many reports you were giving back to your engineer.

Y/N: "My downshifts are really, really bad." Ben: "Standby." Y/N: "They're just super long. The whole downshift procedure." Ben: "Is there a specific corner?" Y/N: "The last corner is fucked up."

What happened on Q2 was the one that takes the cake. It ended your qualifying stint before you even had the chance to get everything out of the car.

Y/N: "Uhh I have a problem. Engine. Engine Problem. It's almost not accelerating." Ben: "Ok. Understood y/n. Well, we'll do what we can. We're happy for you to try and limp home, if possible."

"Traumatic twist that no one saw coming. The dominant Aston Martin car could not complete Qualifying. and y/n will have to fight through from 15th at best." Brundle commentates.

You went back to the hotel feeling dejected and almost wanted to stay cooped up in your room but the boys were so eager for you to join them for a short game night.

The boys were so chaotic playing Overcooked 2 in Lando's room. Yuki and Pierre were screaming at each other on whether they should throw the burgers their avatars were holding or place it on the counter, while Lando and Alex were bickering and laughing while they figure out how to maneuver their avatars.

"I could use some stress reliever. Thank you." You said as you nudge Oscar's side.

"We all needed it." Oscar replies.

Oscar was quick to react when a knock was heard on the door. He ran to get it and came back with Charles and Max following behind.

"Max, such a surprise to see you here!" Alex calls out Max while his eyes are still glued to the screen.

"I begged for him to come." Charles gleefully pats Max's chest and sat beside Alex.

Max sees you standing on the other side of the bed near Pierre and Yuki. You wave at him and he waves back. This was the first time you've interacted with him this weekend.

The first game ended and the boys gave the controllers to the rest of the group. Oscar sat beside you while Charles and Max sat together.

Charles suggested that they change teammates since Charles and Max's team usually wins during game night. As a handicap, Charles would be your teammate and Oscar would be with Max.

You laugh at the suggestion because when Oscar sat down beside Max, he reverted back to his introverted self. He wasn't as close with Max unlike with the others. He looked like a scared little lamb.

Charles was hilarious all throughout the game. He was even more riled up than you. You let him shout the steps to you while you concentrate on finishing the tasks.

Oscar was doing good with Max. They were bickering like kids but they were able to finish the task better than you and Charles. Max was now standing and focusing on the screen like nothing else mattered.

Everyone was basically cheering and screaming at this point. It wouldn't be a surprise if somebody reported a noise complaint.

At the end of the night, everyone bid goodbye to Lando and Oscar and walked back to the elevator together.

"I'm glad you had fun." Max whispers as he leans closer to you. Both of you were at the back of the group.

"I didn't expect for you to join us but I'm glad you did. Now we have the right amount of people to play the game." You replied.

"Oh right..." Max pauses. "Well, I'm glad I came."

Everyone got in the elevator with you being the last one to enter. The boys were still chatting with each other as you were looking at the screen at the side which says the floor. It dinged on the next floor and a group of five entered.

The other 6 drivers were now quiet while the five strangers were chatting. All of you got pushed back and you were now leaning hard against Max who was behind you.

You try your best not to be nervous at the sudden close proximity between you and the dutch driver. Your body burns at the sensation of his hands at your waist trying to steady you after you waddle out of balance when another person got inside the elevator, further pushing you against Max.

Max noticed a sweet scent within the elevator. Probably from the other people who just came in, he thought. However, when his face got close to backside of your neck, the scent got stronger. He can't help but be drawn to the succulent scent you're emitting from your nape.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt Max's breath brush against your skin. You could almost feel Max's chest purring against your back.

Max's scent was also starting to change and you were the only one to notice it. The scent emitting from him was sweet and musky. You could almost whimper at how ambrosial it smells. There was no sense of fear, but pure elation.

The other drivers were blissfully unaware of the tension building up between you and Max as they chat away with the others. You also see Charles joking around with Alex and Pierre.

Max felt your knees buckle slightly and his hands that were on your waist steadies you. Unaware of his surroundings, he continues to take in your delectable scent.

"Stop it, Max..." You whisper, careful not to let anyone else hear you but Max.

He was getting drunk with your scent. It was making him dizzy and he couldn't get enough of it. Like a bee being attracted to a flower's nectar.

His fingers on either side of your waist were now starting to bore into your skin. His growls were now getting slightly audible. The other drivers faintly heard it and were starting to notice a sweet scent as well but didn’t actually realize those were coming from you two. You gripped his right wrist but it didn't even faze Max.

It took him out of his trance when you nudged his stomach with your elbow after you heard the elevator ding and the strangers exited. You stride to the side beside Yuki, and Max steps away opposite to you.

No one could describe what happened between you and Max in that elevator. It left the both of you flushed and panting. Your minds lingering on each other's touch. Eyes glued to each other's gaze.

One by one, the drivers stopped at their respective floors. Leaving you and Max to be the last one left in the elevator. Max's eyes never left you. You avoid his gaze and frantically pressed the elevator button.

Max makes his way to you and slaps his hand on the wall next to you, pinning you in position by his proximity. Completely towering over you.

"Care to explain what happened?" Max grumbled, fighting through his daze.

"I don't know what you mean." You whimpered.

"I'm not stupid. Your smell..." Max slowly leans his face near the crook of your neck. He growls under his breath after one whiff of your scent. "Unlike any pheromones I've smelled."

Max was now burying his face in your neck. You notice the screen on the wall about to stop on your floor. "Max!" You push him slightly, freeing yourself away from him.

You stepped out of the elevator, fighting for your life to stay sane and not get affected by Max's scent. Max's eyes were droopy and his lips were glistening.

Max had no control over his body. He was frustrated that he wasn't able to stop you from fleeing away from him. The farther you ran away, the more his daze faded. The doors of the elevator were now closed and continued to ride up the building.

He knew exactly what had happened. He heard about this from Checo and his parents. There was no denying that you were an Omega and the reason why the both of you had felt that way earlier was because the two of you were fated to meet.

You are his mate.

Next part: Part 4

[spiderlilydreams]

You Meet Some Naruto Men At a Underground Club

MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drugs, sexual themes, some smut but not that descriptive, one of the short fics has mentions of sexual harassment that goes along with the fic, but it's from a random character, not the character that the short fic is about

[Itachi, Sasuke, Naruto, Kakashi, Sasori, Kisame, Deidera]

Itachi -

You were dancing on the dance floor with your friends, swaying your hips to every beat perfectly. The thundering music pulsed through you, and the lights perfectly decorated your body. You glimpsed at the eyes around you, two deep black eyes catching your attention. His features were serious and mature, a shot in his hand, him watching you dance, while sipping the drink slowly. The more you watched him, in a trance, the more interested he got in you. He approached you on the dancefloor, handsome and tall before you. He swayed with you for a bit, before asking you if you wanted him to take you on an actual date. He'd be big on asking if you trust him, and after agreeing, and telling your friends, he'd grab your hand and swiftly navigate you through the crowd of dancing people. He drives a luxurious car, and the city lights would illuminate you both as he drove, him looking so handsome driving with his elegant hands, with painted fingernails and rings. He'd take you out to a five star restaurant, letting you eat whatever you desire, paying for it all. Eventually you'd end up at his apartment, a penthouse apartment on the top floor of a skyscraper. It has huge windows that reach the floor around you, so you feel like you're on top of the world. Everything is modern, dimly lit in the apartment. When you'd eventually end up in bed with Itachi, the cityscape in view beside you, he'd be gentle and intimate with you. He'd leave small kisses all over your body, you both touching each other like it's your first time touching another person, out of awe with each other, like you're both artwork worthy of high praise. You'd make slow, passionate love, with orgasms you'd be entranced with lights from the city tickling your vision.

Sasuke -

You'd want to take a break from the dance floor, opening random doors, looking for a private room to decompress. One of the rooms you'd open, you'd see a handsome man, sitting on the large crimson couch to himself. You'd try to leave but before you do, the man would almost demand you join him. When you do, he motions for you to sit on his lap, but is big on telling you only if you feel comfortable doing so. You'd sit on his lap, feeling his toned body press up against you. His dark eyes staring deeply into you, making you blush and nervous. You'd both just talk for a bit, him wondering why you came to the room he's in, and you wondering the same. You'd learn he came for his friends, but isn't big on parties or anything like that. The more you'd both talk, the closer your bodies would get to each other, eventually you both melting into a passionate, aggressive kiss, you both ripping each other's clothes off. Sasuke would waste no time, pounding into you roughly, you both riding a intense high. For the rest of the night, you'd spend it with Sasuke. You'd chat, share stories, but most of all, have multiple rounds of intense sex, fucking like this is the last time either of you would have sex.

Naruto -

You were apart of a large truth or dare game, a large crowd gathering around you. One of the random drunks would dare you to kiss Naruto, Naruto blushing and saying over and over that you didn't have to. You'd come over to him, Naruto stuttering and obviously very nervous. You'd pull him into a long, firey kiss, that Naruto would immediately respond to, both of your tongues battling. You'd end up pushing one another onto one of the couches, grinding and making out like wild animals, people shocked around you. You both wouldn't mind, feeling like the only thing that existed, was both of you sharing this moment. Loud music would vibrate both of you, lights blinding everything. You both would be so lost in the passion, nothing else seeming to exist. As people would start passing out from drugs and alcohol, you'd both still be making out, even sneaking in some quick sex, no one around you knowing, you both too dazed in lust even if they did.

Kakashi -

You noticed him the moment you entered the club, him tall and handsome amongst people you payed no interest in. All that mattered to you was him. He was working at the bar. You'd immediately sit at the bar, asking for a drink he recommended. He'd make your drink with a wink with his uncovered eye. You'd stare at him as he worked, noticing he was only flirting with you. After a couple hours of the intense flirting, he'd pretend he couldn't hear you asking a question, leaning in to "hear" you better. You'd blush, beginning to repeat yourself, before he'd remove the bottom of his mask, pulling you into a kiss. You'd pull him in close, but he'd pull you in even closer. You'd eventually end up sitting on the bar table, making out intensely with Kakashi, him gripping your hips, and holding you close to him. You both payed no mind as people frowned and got angry, you both still making out hungrily. Eventually he'd lift you up, carrying you to the bathroom, but not bringing you to a stall out of respect, sitting you up on the sink counter instead. You'd both begin stripping crazily, having rough sex on the sink, Kakashi smirking in the bathroom mirror everytime he'd see his reflection and pound into you. You'd spend the rest of the night in the bathroom with Kakashi, you both having ownership of the bathroom basically, people refusing to use it because of the intense sex you both were having.

Sasori -

The loud music was getting to you, you taking a break on one of the couches. Your friends payed no mind, still dancing to themselves. You'd begin feeling a panic attack coming, looking to the ground, covering your ears desperately with your hands. Then you felt someone tapping you on the shoulder. A handsome man standing there with red hair. He'd join you on the couch, offering you headphones he pulls out of his bag that he brought. You'd accept them with thankfulness, noticing the headphones are noise canceling to a degree when you put them on. Sasori would smile, and bring out something else from his bag. Fingerpuppets? He'd begin pretending the fingerpuppets were dancing, obviously trying to cheer you up. You'd be giggling and thankful. Eventually he'd offer you a fingerpuppet, you both pretending they were slow dancing. People would look at you both weirded out, but you both didn't care. As the night carried on, you'd both get to know each other through texting each other right next to each other. Sasori would text asking for a kiss innocently, obviously very nervous as he typed. You'd both exchange a delicate kiss that led into a more passionate, but gentle kiss, you both lost in your own little world.

Kisame -

Kisame was working as the security guard of the club, big and tall, intimidating to the club goers. He'd stand against the wall next to the entrance, observing in case all hell broke loose. He'd notice you on the dancefloor, looking scared as a tall, lanky man who looked like a snake followed you throughout the dancefloor. When the man began to grind his body against yours, Kisame rushed through the crowd, standing tall behind the man. You looked scared, tears welling up in your eyes, as Kisame pushed the creepy man to the floor. You stood there speechless, as you watched Kisame crouch down to be eye level with you, telling you, you're safe now, and that he's looking out for you. For the rest of the night, instead of being on the dancefloor, you stood nearby to where Kisame was perched, him keeping watch, every once in awhile peering over to smile at you. The gentle giant even ordered you what you found out to be hot chocolate instead of alcohol, because you were shivering a bit from the cold. He'd also offer you his large jacket afterwards, you drowning in the warm fabric, sipping the hot cocoa. You watched the club with Kisame, noticing his large muscles in his exposing t-shirt, thinking about how gentle he is.

Deidara -

Deidara was working as one of the main djs for the night, him illuminated by the blinding lights, loud music pounding away onto the dancefloor. Deidara shone up there, his positive aura infecting the dancefloor. He took notice in you, standing the closest to him upfront, shaking your hips and shaking your succulent ass. Deidara was starstruck by you, purposefully picking higher and higher pace music, to watch you keep up so masterfully with the music. During his break, he watched you stop dancing, going to get a drink. He came up behind you, beginning to talk with you at the bar. You blushed as you praised his skills, Deidara beaming from your praise. Deidara when going back to dj would bring you up with him, him offering you headphones for the noise, you sitting on his lap. You watched him masterfully using his hands, as the music vibrated you on his lap. You melted against him, feeling so special in that moment. Deidara would begin to dj with one hand, no one on the dancefloor paying notice, too entranced by the music. Deidara would tease your body, until eventually touching you to the point of your orgasm, you becoming undone in front of thousands, not one person noticing, as you rode your high with heavy music tingling your body, Deidara smiling from ear to ear at your orgasm.

[fatherphilia]

How about some of that Uchiha breeding kink for your bestie?

i love how the uchiha breeding kink is just a staple in naruto smut. it’s honestly so iconic lol

tw. dubcon and of course, breeding kink under cut

madara can hardly control himself, if there’s any man that desires an heir deeply, it is him. he’s believes that he’s the strongest in his clan and that it’s his duty to provide strong successors for the uchiha.

his poor poor wife, anytime she’s not pregnant is time spent with her legs wrapped around her husband as he thrusts up into her. he can’t help the swell of desire he feels thinking how claiming his girl and knocking her up so the whole clan can see her stomach swell with his child.

at first, he justifies it by saying that he needs to have a male heir but even after you bore a son, he had no intention of stopping. the man just can’t contain himself.

honestly, sasuke never thought that he would have desires like these. he always pictured himself having children eventually but it didn’t occur to him how much the idea of impregnating or rather “breeding” his wife would turn him off.

he doesn’t admit it but it’s easy to tell with the way he’s sliding in and out of you, muttering how he can’t wait to see your his kid. pulling out simply isn’t an option for him and he can’t stand to see any of cum dripping out of you. when you point out his behavior as he’s collecting the semen dripping from your cunt so he can stuff it back in, he merely shrugs as if it was the most normal thing.

if he’s feeling more bold, he’ll tell you to make sure not to waste a single drop.

itachi was the most embarrassed about his intense desires, he considered himself a man who had impeccable control but that control is always slipping when he finds himself in bed with you.

the idea of domesticity and a family is always lingering in the back of his mind, a lingering desire that begins to dominate his thoughts when he’s got you on your back with your legs spread in front of him. he’s gripping thighs, murmuring to you about how he can’t wait to see you become a mother, that he’ll know you’ll do great all while his thoughts drift to way you’ll look while carrying his kid.

he truly does try to contain himself but his usual tenderness is slipping as his cock head teases your aching pussy after he’s already came inside and his spend is dripping down your inner thighs.

not all men merely desire to impregnate their wife. rather, obito just wants to get his hands on any fertile woman he can. it’s the thought of impregnating a stranger and fucking them senseless that really gets him going.

it’s easy for him to coax a kunoichi into his bed for a one night stand, sweet lies leaving his lips as he promises that he’ll pull out; swears that he’d never leave the girl alone. but, it’s all a lie of course because he simply can’t help himself from pouring his load inside the poor girl while she squirms and tries to push him off, reminding him that he promised to pull out.

truly, he just wants to leave some sweet girl out there carrying his spawn inside of her. it’s this irresistible temptation to carry on his genes but he’s such a busy man, he doesn’t have time to settle down with a woman. in any case, obito feels like maybe the girl should feel honored that he picked her even if she’s sobbing when he’s done.

[dayeongi]

ULTRAVIOLET (39,679) by dayeongi

CHAPTER 9: THE FIRE

Chapters: 9/?

Fandom: Naruto (Anime & Manga) Rating: Mature

Summary: Five years after watching “Kurumi” disappear into a black van and being told not to ask any questions, Shikamaru finds himself getting entangled with her and her mysterious and exciting life. Temari had already put her year in Konoha behind her, focusing on her family, but fate’s ties between her and Shikamaru make her question if everything has really been left in the past.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Temari, Kankurou (Naruto)/Original Male Character(s), Gaara & Kankurou & Temari (Naruto) Characters: Temari (Naruto), Nara Shikamaru, Kankurou (Naruto), Gaara (Naruto), Original Male Character(s), Nara Shikaku, Sen (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino, Akimichi Chouji

Additional Tags: People being bad at feelings, Friends to Lovers, star-crossed lovers, Denial of Feelings, Idiots in Love, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe, Modern Royalty, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Politics, Slow Burn, Aromantic Gaara (Naruto), Past Child Abuse, Assassination Plot(s), Murder, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Transphobia, Dysfunctional Family, Childhood Trauma, First Love, Human Trafficking, Drug Dealing, Criminal Underworld, Author Is Sleep Deprived, no beta we die like shinobi, Eventual Smut, Ex Sex, First Time, Canonical Character Death, K-drama Rich Mom Shikaku Series: Part 3 of SETTING SUN AU

[nardo-headcanons]

Ok, this is a weird one so feel totally free to ignore if you want. How do you think the different members of Konoha 11 would use the Tumblr booping function? No need to include them all, of course. Just those who inspire you any ideas. Thanks and take care!

Sasuke, my beloved. Weird is my specialty. Your request is a lovely one!

The Konoha 11 + Sasuke Using The Boop Function On Tumblr

Naruto is the Boop King. He has that shit maxed out within half an hour, maybe even using shadow clones on different devices. Sasuke is his biggest booping victim.

Sakura will boop all of the Konoha 11, but within a speed she thinks is “socially acceptable”. The only exemption is Sasuke, who will too find many boops from her in his inbox. It started with just one, but then she couldn’t stop herself.

Sasuke clicked “boop back” on accident when he saw Naruto’s boops in his inbox and accidentally makes Naruto’s day. The only boops he is consistently sending out are to Itachi. Naruto’s boops alone are responsible for his boop meter being on max after just logging on once.

Sai will research the purpose of these boops before using the function. Everyone gets 1 (one) boop from him. He even finds Kakashi’s secret smut account and sends him one boop.

Hinata is very reluctant with her boops, only sending a few to her teammates, and one back to Sakura. Accidentally boops Naruto and wants to bury herself in the ground from shame, but eventually receives 200 boops from Naruto in return.

Shino will adamantly check who he gets boops from, making sure he isn’t forgotten. The only accounts he boops are entomology research institutes.

Kiba is almost as eager as Naruto. However, he thinks it would’ve been a better feature if it were dog paws. He wants to boop Hana to annoy her, but accidentally boops the official tumblr page of her vet practice.

Neji doesn’t want to participate at first, but is eventually pressured into it. Like Sai, he sends one boop back, but only to those who boop him in the first place.

Lee is in an official booping competition with Naruto. For every extra boop he receives, he runs a lap, when the boop meter reaches max, he does a squat and when it gets to Lol territory, he switches to push-ups.

Tenten sees this as an opportunity to let out her frustrations about Lee, sending several evil boops along his way. To her annoyance, Lee just sees that as an extra motivation. She sends a boop to Neji too to encourage him to use the feature.

Shikamaru thinks booping others is a drag, but will send a few to his closest friends. He doesn’t bother checking his inbox, most of the boops are from Naruto, Kiba and Lee anyway.

Choji sends boops to all of his friends, like Sakura in a speed which he thinks is socially acceptable, as well as some super boops to his favorite restaurants.

Ino sends the most boops out of the Konoha 11 girls. She sends a decent amount, however super boops are only sent to the other girls, as she thinks men are not deserving of such a gesture. The only exception would be Sasuke, but she doesn’t boop him because she’s trying to get over him.