Will Madara comfort Tobirama or do anything sweet for him? Because he looks so confused at Tobi's words.
I had planned quite a long serious convo for them, but in the end for comic type of drawing it’s very time consuming to draw 😭 im too lazy to draw all that..
But yeah i want them to take their relationship slowly n not just do the snusnu :’) hopefully i can figure smtg out for the continuation. Thank you!
like i'm not lying i had my mouth open for a good ten seconds when i scrolled across your art the first time because i wasn't expecting such jawdropping art and RECENT at that for a ship like madatobi... i like a lot of the active mdtb artists but my favs are all works from artists from 4 years ago thats posted on pixiv. so imagine how i felt seeing such pretty art, only a few eeeks old, for a ship i foolishly got into half a decade after its peak.... wow maybe i love living haha thank you (you can just respond to both asks in one i'm sorry if i overwhelmed you but you gotta know how much you made my day)
Thank you so much!! Mdtb is a comfort ship that i personally feel like it’s ok to return whenever, so i only draw when an idea strikes 🥲 (rarely got any hshshsh)
Im happy to be able to provide even a bit for this ship! It’s very rare to get this kind of message, im very very thankful 🥹
Smol doodle hehe, hoping to get more inspiration someday
do you use twitter? I really want to be friends with you but I don't use Tumblr very much :") your art is so amazing I really adore it! you are one of my favorite artists <3
I do, actually it's my main app to use
Tho i use different name since it's my main acc, also i dont post naruto drawings there :')) (it's mainly genshin)
Notes: I saw this lovely art by @moooooiste and was very inspired for some softness 😔🙏
*
Tobirama sits back in his chair and rolls his neck with a long, heaving sigh. Judging by the bright sunlight streaming in through the open window and warming his desk, it is just past noon. Children play on the lush, grassy training grounds just outside the Academy as they have for many hours now: an indistinct clamour of playful hollering, laughter, chatter and word games. Rather than distracting him, the hum of joy has only ever motivated him to work harder.
Rising decisively from his chair, Tobirama sighs again to loosen his muscles and stretches overhead, shoulders (and ears) popping with the delicious strain and release. His eyes shoot open as the air shifts behind him. Strong arms wind around his middle and squeeze.
The kunai that flashes into his hand is slapped aside, leather squeaking as gloved fingers intertwine with his. Madara shoves into his back like a needy cat and butts their heads together.
Tobirama sucks in a steadying breath to control his racing heart and doesn't yell the idiotic things perched on his tongue. If he doesn’t want to be sneaked up on, Madara will only say, he shouldn’t let himself be so easy to sneak up on. His mouth twitches in a reluctant smile when he lets the breath go.
“I meant to greet you at the gate. You were still hours away the last time I checked.”
“Wanted to be home already,” Madara mutters into his throat. “I thought you heard me coming.”
Madara had been absolutely silent in his approach, body still primed to stalk and fight after a month away; he hadn’t even upset the notoriously noisy shutters as he slipped through the window. That Tobirama hadn’t noticed anything amiss is concerning, but he could blame the lack of destructive intent. He reaches back with his free hand and strokes ticklish hair away from his neck, quickly wrinkling his nose at the sheen of oil that stains his fingers.
“You need to bathe. Are you injured?”
Madara makes a derisive noise.
“That would have made for a more interesting mission, I suppose,” Tobirama infers with some exasperation. “I take it you succeeded.”
“Always.”
Debatable. Tobirama hesitates and turns in Madara's unrelenting arms. Facing each other, he can tell irrevocably that Madara needs to bathe: oily, sweaty, flecks of blood splattered across his mantle. The smell is more than a little distracting, but Tobirama sweeps back tangled hair and crosses his arms behind strong shoulders—stopping himself at the last second from nudging their cheeks together in greeting. He brushes his mouth over dry lips instead.
Madara seems to pause. Then he smiles and tugs Tobirama's head into place, maintaining the glancing kiss as he speaks. It tickles. “Am I so disgusting that your first choice is a kiss?”
“Yes.”
Tobirama kisses him again, because he is not putting his face in that unwashed thicket of hair or smearing oil and sweat across his face, and yet he does not want to pull away either. He imagines they must make a fine, foolish image: limbs tangled together, their closed lips pressed flush. He holds the odd pose for as long as Madara enjoys it, seemingly a full minute passing before they drift naturally apart. Madara blinks tiredly and slips out of his embrace.
“I sent a clone to present my report and greet my clan. When will you be free?”
“From now until tomorrow morning.”
Madara sighs, clearly pleased. “Then we may as well go to the hot springs.”
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