features: naruto, itachi, madara, kakashi, tenzou, hashirama, tobirama, kiba, shikamaru, konohamaru, asuma, deidara, jiraiya, and genma
minor notes: these drabbles include a female reader who exists in the village of konoha as a shinobi and no uchiha massacre has taken place!
on your belly
naruto — there's something dangerous, nearly feral, about the way he looks down at you when he leans over your body. its like kurama breaks free and takes over the ninja, like the whiskers on his face darken to black, his eyes glowing red and bright and ferocious— and it thrills you. utterly, and completely thrills you. naruto smirks, and in any other moment you might have been embarrassed about the fact that you both know then and there that he can smell your arousal. but you're too far gone to care. it's all you can do to hold on, clawing at his broad back, clutching your legs around his hips as you ride through the pleasure of his cock against your insides. he pulls out at the last moment, the way your fingers wind together as both of your hands work furiously over his cock, and the sinful moan that spills from his lips as he comes is almost enough to send you headlong into another orgasm. his cum splatters over your belly, icy hot and plentiful, and you expect him to collapse on top of you, caging you beneath his firm body and holding you there, as he usually does, but this time his holds his ground. his hands are at your belly, fingers moving through his spend as he works it into your skin, spreading it across the softness he loves to kiss, as though marking you with his scent, marking you as his. he growls, nearly purrs, and as you meet his feral red eyes, you both know kurama is pleased.
itachi — he loves the way you can quiet his mind, send the swirling storm of thoughts into quiet symbiosis, cooing the firestorm. you take him in his arms, make him feel protected, instead of what is usually the other way around. it's intoxicating, to be around you. when he makes love to you, when he wraps his arms around you, and your legs wind around him, he loves how you pull him down until he's chest to chest with you, like he can become one with you completely. you'll try for a child soon, he knows. but for now he contents himself with pulling out of you just enough to release on your stomach, to feel the warmth of your skin on his most sensitive part, to run his fingers through the liquid and it excites him to no end to picture little uchiha's running around the compound.
on your chest
yamato — there's something about the way you look, flushed, breathless, dripping with sweat, that overcomes him, makes him feel half wild as he looks down at you. he can't tear himself away from you, not even for a moment, and has been late for many a meeting because of this weakness, much to kakashi's delight and his chagrin. but every once in a while, when he feels particularly wound up, pent up, that he indulges his secret sin. he pulls out of you as he feels his orgasm bridging, a frisson of pleasure building at the base of his spine and rolling through him like a jolt of lightning, and rolls over to the side. your eyes are half lidded as you look up at him, confusion bridging into understanding as you recognize the familiar pose. even without asking you roll into a sitting position, as though reading his mind, and kami he loves you so much, even in the throes of passion and pleasure he drops a hand to your cheek to stroke it lovingly. he works his cock quickly as you push your breasts together, flinching slightly as your fingers pinch your nipple, still sensitive from the force of your orgasm, and the breathy little moan you let out is enough to send him over the edge. his cum sinks onto your skin, slipping down your breasts and onto your stomach, a fist of prideful pleasure tightening in his belly. kami he just loves you so much.
konohamaru — somehow, he knows, just knows, that this is all naruto's fault. he blames the hokage for having made his introduction into the world of sex be all bare breasts and long legged, until the memories of his sexy jutsu captivating his adolescent. even as an adult konohamaru has the same weakness, and the day he had met you he knew all at once that you checked all his boxes in perfect harmony. and when he's leaning over you, his spend dotted across your perfect chest like spilled pearls, your face flushed and eyes half lidded from the throes of pleasure, the aftershocks of your orgasm still trembling through you, he can't quite but thank the gods for naruto.
on your face
deidara — its a work of art on its own, the way your eyes look as you gaze up at him. the way your lips are swollen and half parted, wet by the tongue that drags across them seductively enough to make him dive back down into your arms. but there's nothing more beautiful than the way you look on your knees, his cock kissed against your lips, his spend streaked across your face like oil paint on a canvas. he smirks, near feral, and just the sight is enough to make him half hard again. he never feels more pleasure at the notion that art truly is an explosion.
shikamaru — he let out a long, sated sigh, breathing out a curl of smoke and thinking about the fact that he had never been this happy. your fingers clawed at the skin of his naked chest, nails dragging across his nipple in a way that made him flinch and his hips stutter, pleasure-pain rushing through his chest as he moaned. your fingers wound absently around the fabric of the yukata you had hastily pushed down around his waist, leaving his ass bare and ready to be fondled by you as you guided the thrust of his hips. your mouth was so hot, so wet and warm, that he wished he could live in it. not that he spent much time free from the tangle of your limbs, with the amount of time you spent fucking, the honeymoon period having never ended after your marriage three years prior. he gasped out a moan, leaning forward in his zaisu, and winding a hand through your beautiful hair, warning you silently that he was about to reach his peak. his cum marked your face, spilling across your cheeks, your lips, your chin, and you looked so beautiful he couldn't resist kissing you, his tongue entering your mouth, his hand cupping your bare breast, both of you already knowing he wasn't going to be going anywhere for the next hour.
on your ass
kiba — it's his animal instincts. it must be. it makes him feel wild, ferocious to see you like this, on your hands and knees, your hair messy as its tossed over your shoulders, your back bowed to tilt your hips up towards his. your skin is glistening with a mix of heady sweat and saliva, because he just can't stop himself from licking you, tasting you, mapping every inch of your body with his tongue. your thighs are parted, wet for the same reasons, and he longs to taste you again, to bury himself between your legs and eat and eat and eat until the neverending starvation in his belly is sated. but he can't, not yet, not now. his cock feels fit to burst, and he can't stand being parted from you for a second longer, pushing back into you until his hips are flush to your ass, and kami you feel so fucking good, he can't stop the growl that leeches from this lips. he comes quickly, pulling out with rabid ferocity and spilling over the curves of your perfect ass, unable to resist biting into it and leaving another bite mark among the sea of half healed ones.
tobirama — his brother had told him it would be like this one day, like him and mito, had told him that one day he would know what it meant to be completely consumed by another. but before you, tobirama had though his brother a fool. even worse, a god of shinobi, brought to heel by something so simple as love. but from the very first moment he had come across you, had taken your hand to shake and seen the way your lips arched into a smile, he realized he was a fool too. it's like heaven and hell, like sweet escape and even sweeter torture, to be with you, to be apart from you, even for just the moment it takes to pull out of your sweet warmth. but there's something wicked about the way you look covered in his spend, the way your ass reddens from the slap of his hips, the way your sweat speckled skin looks glistens like diamonds. kami, he truly is a fool, but much like his brother, there's no place he'd rather be than in your arms.
on your pussy
jiraiya — the toad sage can't help but be mesmerized by everything about you. the way your hair drapes around your shoulders, the mastery of your genjutsu, the way your eyes shine in the moonlight, the softness of your skin, the brightness of your smile. but fuck, if one of the most impressive things about you wasn't the way your pussy sucked him in. you're both sexual beings, he knows that. knows that you've had other lovers before him, but he couldn't tell— not from the way your pussy sucked him in like a tight-fist, like a virgin. it was near agony to pull out, to not cum in you like jiraiya so obviously enjoyed, but during times like this, when the cleanup was too messy, or you two had stolen the time for a quickie, when he forced himself to pull out as he came, splattering your skin with drops of cum that nearly sizzled your beautiful skin. you moaned, looking so beautiful covered in his spend that he couldn't help but seize your lips in a messy kiss, sighing in pleasure as he began to mentally draft the next volume of icha icha.
genma — he was a pervert. he knew it, you knew it. half of konoha knew it. he kissed you like a fiend, all tongue and teeth and exchanged spit, addicted to the way your body felt beneath his, all soft curves to his hard edges. your hand fisted in his loose hair, tilting his head down towards you, so you could kiss even more deeply, practically consuming each other. your legs were wrapped around his naked hips, his favorite belt, and he thrust into you with abandon, unable to resist the wet heat of your pussy, still fluttering around him after your orgasm. he was gonna cum soon, he knew from the reckless thrust of his hips and the fist of pleasure forming below his stomach and there wasn't enough time to properly make love to you since you were both supposed to report to the hokage in five minutes. genma pulled out begrudgingly, cum spilling across the lips of your pussy instead of inside you as he longed to do. he admired his handiwork, breathless and feeling lose from release of pleasure, and couldn't help but run his fingers through the spend, dragging it across your skin like he was painting. yeah maybe he was a pervert, but he loved it, and you loved it— and at the end of the day that was all he cared about. you
in your mouth
asuma — he's addicted to you, he thinks. utterly and completely addicted. he's never been dependent on anything in his life, not even his cigarettes, not the way he is to you. he wishes he could retire, could spend all day every day in your arms, in bed with you, cooking with you, eating with you, showing with you, sleeping with you. it's heaven, or the closest he's ever come, and the sole reason is you. he fucks you languidly, relishing in every part of you, the clench of your pussy, the bounce of your unbound breasts, the salty wetness of sweat on your skin he draws up with his tongue. asuma pulls out begrudgingly, desperate to chase the tightness, the heat of your insides, but the tiny thread of reason he clung to was telling him otherwise. instead he takes himself in hand, swinging a leg over your body to perch on your stomach, his cock brushing the plush suppleness of your lips. he cums across your perfect mouth, moaning too loudly when he sees the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips, and he could almost cum again just as the sight. asuma collapses beside you in the bed you share, pulling you into his strong arms and kissing you deeply. he wants to breed you, to get you full and pregnant and fill your house with little asumas, but for now this was enough.
kakashi — your eyes, he thinks. it's the way your eyes seem to pin him in place as you look up at him. he has more than enough experience with the look of fear on an enemies face when his eyes are upon them, and he thinks he must have much the same look on his as he meets your gaze. you've raised yourself up on the legs folded beneath you, one hand lazily stroking his bare thigh, your nails digging just firmly enough into his skin to cause a frisson of pain to rush up his spine, the other hand on his cock, doing things to him that he can only describe as sinful. your lips are swollen and reddened from the length of your lovemaking, your tongue dragging down his cock and paying special attention to his head. he gasps out a moan, the sound like it was dragged from the depths of his belly. his hips jerk forward as he comes, automatically seeking the warmth and comfort of your touch. he comes like a blast of raikiri, barely having the energy to do more than fall to his knees before you. he weakly opens his eyes, and nearly goes mute. his spend is on your tongue, your lips, the corner of your mouth, and the way you look drinking it down is utterly sinful.
inside of you
madara — there was no better place for madara than between your thighs, not the battlefield, not the winners circle. no, he'd give it all up just to stay pillowed between your legs. just as your happiness elevated his, your pleasure heightened his. when his hands push apart your thighs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him down flush against you. it's as though the gods had made his body just for yours, the way your hips fit into the cradle of his, the way his thighs made the perfect hook for your legs, the mold of your lips against mouth. kami, it was a miracle. he hates to leave you, even more to pull out of you, not when you're so hot, so tight, so wet against him. to feel himself spend inside of you, awash with pleasure and contentment, is the most powerful feeling in the world.
hashirama — there was nothing in the world hashirama loved more in the world than the way you felt in his arms. the way your bodies moved in unison as he made love to you, when your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, your body twitching in his arms as pleasure ran through you, the way your breath mingled as you kissed and kissed and kissed. your pleasure was as important to him as his own, as it was his highest order of duty to provide for you in every way. and the best part, the highest honor and highest pleasure, was to come with you. to feel you clench around his cock, tight as a fist and so utterly warm that hashirama was sure you could melt him more than you already had, and the feeling of your body sinking fully into pleasure, tight as a coil as you both achieved orgasm at the same time was the highest accomplishment of his life.
this post is about sexual relationships. !!! NSFT !!!
the categories are from prosopa insights, i didn't make them and they aren't scientific, just for fun. everything is explained below the line. written impromptu and not proofread.
whew with that out of the way, it's time to psychoanalyze these badboys.
quick rundown: the 4 primary categories (romantic, adventurous, dutiful, nurturing) describe a healthy range of sexuality. the 8 sub-categories (jealous, indulgent, obsessive, domineering, frigid, neurotic, hyper-sensitive, delusional) are unhealthy variants of their primary category.
ROMANTIC
The classic lover. Someone who sees sex as a thing of beauty, something to be enjoyed, or help their lover enjoy it. To them, sex is an expression of love for others, for beauty, and enjoying the finer things of life.
Rock Lee. Sex is either a loving, affectionate, fun endeavor or he'd rather not have it at all. This is a very earnest character. A romantic who beams with youthful passion and vitality, and while yes, it's important to expunge all that sexual energy, he would only do it in a warm, safe, loving context where he knows for sure the other party is thoroughly enjoying themselves. I imagine a lively, engaging time with him, lots of verbal affirmation and intentional, cautious soft touching that gradually evolves into more playful, more careless caressing and stroking as you both relax and get into the rythm of it. Related, definitely an enjoyer of showy displays of affection. Also I think he'd start out very standard-traditional but can basically adapt to anything that sounds pleasant and interesting. Very sweet with a dash of playfulness to keep things engaging. Standard romantic type, very perfect to start off this list with 'cause he raises a high bar, heh. Likely favorites: casual and/or gentle sex with some toys (hey, he wants to see the max of what you can handle and compare it with what he can handle! >:3); drunk sex would make him go wilder with kinky stuff (a bit more force, lots of affectionate and dirty talk, pinning you down, rubbing himself against you). Just know that he won't remember tf he was doing when he sobers up. Actually, don't tell him or at least leave out some details or he'll spend the next 3 days apologizing to you, being the endearing idiot that he is.
Minato. Let me start with: he's not romantic in the most conventional sense. I think he'd be a bit out of touch with normalcy, actually. But he's confident about what he's throwing at you, and he's trying his best to create a genuinely passionate, loving dynamic. So, when he traces his thumb over your lips and says borderline cryptic stuff like "wow, your pretty face is turning as red as a blood-stained blade", understand that he's trying to make the Romance(tm) happen. Because he cares. He cares enough to want to make you feel loved. And he knows that (1) good sex is when it's pleasurable and (2) good sex is when you get to bond with your lover. Yes, he has an objectives list in his head. Wooing you is a really fun strategy game to him. What do you like? You don't have to tell him, he'll figure it out anyway. Giving a few pointers from the get-go is probably a good idea though, otherwise he'll get quite creative about it (battlefield terminology as foreplay, oh he's so charming!). Cheers for being versatile and good at everything he does. Likely favorites: he's so good and creative with tools, there's no way he wouldn't want to use sex toys. I mean, he might end up making some himself, something that's tailored perfectly to your body which he so adores. If not that, fingering or rubbing/jacking you off. Just let him work his nimble fingers~
Hashirama. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens~ One little smile and he'll leave you smitten. Was that too corny? Well, sorry but... that's just the beginning of it! He has enough love to drown the world, and he's coming at you with everything in his heart. I can imagine him being affectionately playful and even a bit cringe when it comes to terms of endearment (although he wouldn't think of it as cringe, but there are only so many variations of "my lovely sweet honey bunny meow meow" you can reasonably handle). A romantic who likes to take his sweet time (when he has it, it's probably not that often) setting everything up and getting you in the mood and making sure everything is just how you like it. Not only that, but he's open-minded and would occasionally surprise you, ahem, inapprioriate use of the Mokuton-- wait, who said that? And yes, he's sweet and loving, but as you'd expect, the god of shinobi is kind of a lot to handle when it comes down to it. Stamina for days, by the way. Not an exaggeration; his body keeps recovering at rapid speeds. Have fun. I mean, he sure wants you to! Also, I wanna add that I considered putting him in Nurturing, but then I realized, since he's a hardcore gambler, he loves the emotional high of indulging in high-adrenaline recreational activities, which would hint at quite the sexual appetite. So, he's here instead. Likely favorites: being very close, bodies touching and intertwining like coiling roots. Speaking of, he can definitely employ his Mokuton for some light suspension play. It's going to be a very long night and it can certainly help you stop shivering like a leaf in the wind due to all of the stimulation he so lovingly indulges you in. Proud enjoyer of creampies followed by eating it out of you; he always politely cleans up after himself. 😊
--- ROMANTIC JEALOUS
Excessive emotionality: neurotic, jealous, competitive, desires to be the best partner that their lover ever had, very intense. Uses sex as a supplement to their idealized relationship, straightforwardly seek it out, and lashes out if they don't get it.
Obito. He might be a bit of a dork in other areas, but when it comes to social and emotional intelligence? Cunning. He knows exactly what to do, where to touch you, what to say, the sort of dynamic that you want to play out, and he'll act it out for you. If he loves you, he'll learn to enjoy whatever you enjoy. Extremely passionate, lively, fiery before, during, and after sex. Emotions and sex are inextricably linked to him. And yeah, this is where things might go south. He's suffocating and volatile. Much like his emotional state, his sexual appetite is like a black hole that no amount of love you give can fill. Sex is a placeholder for the validation that he's desperate for but can't accept. He will seek it out again, and again, and again, and if you reject him, he will feel the extreme of it, like it's proof that you hate him. Because to him, it will look like even his best is not good enough, and it's genuinely soul-crushing to feel like such an unwanted loser. He tries to regulate and affirm himself through acts of passion, but that's obviously extremely taxing on his lover, and an unhealthy view on sex. For what it's worth, really good at sex, but nothing else surrounding relationships. Babe has an emotionally crippling personality disorder 😍. Likely favorites: please tell him what his favorites should be, he wants to be good for you, please please 🥺. He can be your daddydom, your bad boy, your puppy, your worshipper, whatever you want! I guess, in a way, roleplay is his shtick. Well, there is one other thing he really likes, and it's a power imbalance fantasy where you're at his mercy so he can claim you and have you be his forever and ever and ever, with no chance of escape. He's not telling you that, though.
--- ROMANTIC INDULGENT
Treat sex as food, alcohol and drugs - something that they should indulge in to the max because life is short. And sex is fun, so why not? Big appetite and want to try as much as possible. Obvious massive commitment issues.
Jiraiya. Jiraiya is the Dionysian man archetype, so it was kind of a no-brainer to place him here. Let's take a look at his hedonistic streak: being extremely inclined towards sex and easily swayed by sexual advances, peeping on babes, basically wasting mula on prostitutes, generally not being the best at managing expenses, all while not shying away from indulging in other luxuries. But yeah, as far as the sex goes, gramps is still full of virility, heh. He's here to have fun and he'll make sure that he does, damn it!! And you will too, probably. I mean, hopefully. For what it's worth, he will try to attend to your needs, though admittedly his would take priority. That is, unless he feels like showing off how good of a lover he can be, he likes to boast sometimes. I don't think he's a heartthrob, but he does have a charm about him and is socially-inclined, so I imagine a lot of verbal communication alongside all the physicality. The latter of which, of course, would take precedence regardless. Just don't expect him to stick around. Though if he likes you the first time, he might come visit you again some time down the line. To reminisce, y'know, have a chat, a drink or two… you get it. Likely favorites: old man's a selfish lover, so think any position where he gets served, like getting a blowjob or getting to fuck you silly in some scandalous position of his choice (the spread eagle, let's fucking go). Show him all of you, baby, he wants to see and to squeeze. Mm, wanna add a third so he can watch? ;)
Hidan. (tw: dark) I know, I know. The insanity of putting Hidan and 'romantic' in the same sentence. I know that many of you are screaming that he should be in Adventurous. But it doesn't feel right; that's a low emotionality quadrant. Hidan is expressive, he's open, he's full of emotion. Not loving emotion, but emotion nonetheless. If he feels it, you will know it. He obviously has no issue having fun, I mean, fuck, what else is there in life for him? Unlike for others, for him there is 0 risk in basically anything, so he can do whatever he wants. Hidan? More like hedon. So yeah, he'll have sex with you if he finds you interesting, after which you'll never see him again. But there's this little ditty: sex is one of those things that escalates, like drugs. Things that excited you, the more you have them, the less exciting they become, and you want to seek out new experiences to get the same high of novelty. Hidan has lived a long life, and far from a chaste one, so he's already in a pretty decadent state. So, to elaborate on just what sort of sex we're talking here… yeah, let's not mince words, he's into some fucked up shit. Have you really had sex if you haven't flayed someone's skin? You know, even men can have more than one hole if you're not squeamish about cleaving some flesh. Yeah. Only consolation is that he'd want to be on the receiving end of most of it, and since you can't hurt him in a way that matters, it won't end in a tragedy. He wouldn't mind switching roles, but please remember that with you on the receiving end, the stakes are much higher... Likely favorites: before I start throwing around terms like snuff how about we talk about what he doesn't like? Sweet love-making under candlelight. Can't stand that shit, it just doesn't do anything for him. Are you here to waste his time or something? Make him gag, bruise, choke, bleed, cry, scream all for the best orgasm he's had in his life. Yeah baby, that's the good shit. No aftercare needed, he doesn't even know what that is.
ADVENTUROUS
While still sexual, they're more emotionally distant. Their drive for sex is mostly raw, physical, sensual, not so much romantically inclined. They see sex as a sport or a game, it's less about sharing love and more about showing off or just indulging in mindless, simple, fun physical pleasure.
Naruto. Heck yeah! He shoots, he scores! Big Naruto win, you said yes! He's got such a boyish view on sex, like if a guy has it then he's super cool. And he wants to be cool, obviously. He wouldn't shut up about it, actually. Before sex: 'Wow, really, you and me, we can?!', 'Huh?! Of course I wanna, believe it!', 'So when are we gonna? When when when, I'm so excited!!' During sex: 'Does this feel good? Or this? Or this? Or that?', 'What else can we do, I wanna do more!', 'Ok, ok, I'm gonna stay still… Umm nevermind, I can't just do nothing!' After sex: 'Woah, that was so awesome! Let's do that again!!', 'When can I see you again, we will meet again right? Right?' Listen, it's difficult to contain himself when his heart is pounding and his palms are sweaty and his entire body is vibrating with excitement, ok!! He can't help it! He totally wants to get into it, like as soon as possible, like right now! You said it and he took it to heart and now he's not gonna find peace until it happens. Very lively in bed, lots of turning and changing positions and yapping (non-stop yapping, the sound of his voice is the majority of the noise). Gets loud but totally unintentionally, it's not like he wants your neighbors to know, but they will. Likely favorites: any position where he gets to both do and be done, like sixty-nine. He likes to be busy, give him something to touch, lick or squeeze! But also do the same for him, 'cause it feels super good! It's never just about one position though, he likes to go through the motions. Moving a lot is important for his hyperactive mind, heh, the more engaging the better! And hey, when you have an enthusiastic partner, even missionary can be incredibly fun!
Suigetsu. First thing's first: sex is not that big of a deal. It really ain't that deep. Well, it can be deep but, like, literally deep. None of this waxing poetics shit, y'know? He's as lax about sex as anything else, go get some if you want it, don't if you don't. shrug But if you do, make sure you get your fill of fun, otherwise the entire thing is kind of bullshit, waste of time, cringe, etcetc, isn't it? I'm not sure if he's exactly the 'you only live once' type, there might be some hard limits simply because he finds some feitshes too ridonkulous, too disgusting or too weird to actually engage in, but for the most part, he's leaning somewhere towards that. If you've got an idea, he's all ears, just tell him. He doesn't wanna miss out on the possibility of it being fun. Hey, who knows, it might become a favorite. The least he can do if you're already in his bed is extend a bit of trust to you as far as taste goes. He's quite witty, but also pretty damn straightforward. Like there are no intellectual games or beating around the bush, no masterplan of seduction required. So yeah, he'll mess around, try some fun stuff (hey, he's got an adventurous spirit!), but also won't really get emotionally attached or touchy-feely about it. Fuck him and set him free, it's what he wants. Likely favorites: hickies hehe, those sharp teeth can be put to very good use and it would make him feel so fucking cool to have marked someone (yea feeling cool during sex is important, ok!). Also definitely something with water. I don't know what exactly; like maybe he'd 'accidentally' splash your shirt so it clings to your body and shows off your natural curves/frame and, oh noee, you'd have to take it off, shucks. Something playful and teasing like that, heh.
Deidara. Was by far the most difficult to write. I don't know, maybe he's more obvious to some of you, but I felt like he was fighting me on every sentence lmao. I'm sorry if I wrote him way off but he felt like a boss battle and I wrote him last. Okay, there is a very particular dynamic that will play out: either you annoy him or he annoys you. Deliberately. This is like the mildest form of the enemies to lovers trope. Like, let me kiss you, but only to get you to shut the fuck up 'cause you're so damn annoying. Let me fuck you but just 'cause I want to put you in your place. Just sets him on fire, that's the good stuff. Yes, disagree with him, bicker back and forth, it's like foreplay. It's up to you which role you want to play, bratty or reactionary, he'll take on the other one as ultimately the appeal is in the dynamic itself. It's a bit performative but hey, all art is, hm. He just wants to have fun, to be honest. C'mon, do something entertaining, prod him, give him something to react to, or you'll force his hand to do something outrageous. Literally his hand, lol. Oi! His face is up here. Those mouths aren't for sex, they're for art, hm! Yeah, well so what that it bit you? Can't handle a little bite? Smh. And here he thought that he was the freak, but look at you. Likely favorites: arguing, teasing and lite verbal aggression amp up the sexual tension so good, more of that! Would eventually succumb to the idea of using his hand-mouths for pleasuring you, because damn if he's anything but not curious. Pleasantly surprised when he finds out he likes it, honestly elevated when he notices you absolutely fucking love it.
Kisame. Sex? Oh yeah, okay, he could do it. Been a while. So busy that the possibility slipped his mind entirely, can you believe that? But you're right, it's good to have fun and relax from time to time. I don't think it's entirely fair of me to put him into a high libido category, he's on the lower end of it (closer to Dutiful than anyone else in this tier), but archetypically Dutiful doesn't really work for him because he has more of a spirit to him, a bit of a kick, hah. And I don't think sex is that serious of an obligation to him. Like, really, sex is the hill you choose to die on? He'd find it a bit silly. There's already enough shit to wade through in the world, the smartest thing you can do is make recreational activities like sex a reprieve, not another obstacle in life. So yeah, he won't make any commitment that he doesn't want, and probably prefer short-term relations anyway due to the sort of life he leads. Stress-free zone. Sex is just a temporary fun activity before he has to go out and deal with the weight of the world again. Feel free to suggest any bright ideas you might have (he'll politely decline if he's not into it, don't worry). Oh, you didn't know he has two? It's okay, he can use just one, although the way you're looking at him makes him think you're interested in the former option. Likely favorites: double-penetration is very much so implied, but if not that then the, uh, normal suck and fuck is fine, thanks. Most I can imagine is him getting a bit rough, like again this is for stress-relief and you're basically his stress-ball. Sure, he can go faster and harder, slap your ass or deepthroat you for 5 seconds. You'll be fine. And thanks for the fun night, whatever your name was.
--- ADVENTUROUS OBSESSIVE
Deviant type. They are sexual, but not in a hedonistic, indulgent way. It's more in a focused mental sense, such as having a very specific fetish that's so prominent in their psyche it starts to take up too much mental space and inclines them to act on it.
Kabuto. This was originally the 'pervert' tier, but I modified it a bit. I'm not saying that Kabuto is a pervert, but I am saying that he is kind of a ~freak~. He was actually quite difficult to place, but then I thought of sex as a way of getting to know yourself, what you like, what sets your heart on fire, and I think that's an element of it that would subconsciously draw him in. I say subconsciously because introspection isn't his forte (as we know lol), he didn't even know it was something he yearned for. And no, he wouldn't lay himself bare before you (metaphorically or otherwise) but sex would stir a very personal, intimate side of himself. I don't think he would understand that this is exactly what keeps him coming back though, he'd try rationalize it with biology. Unless, of course, we're talking about him after he's already gone through his personal Samsara (shoutout to Itachi), in which case he'd be more aware of his own desires and figure it out. Also, he's probably the most experimental character, he would want to try all sorts of stuff, and is very likely to use jutsu inappropriately. He could get off on just seeing the effects and your reactions to them. Beware, his curiosity extends far. Likely favorites: bet he'd like to wear gloves, bet he'd like to 'inspect' you like a doctor looking over his patient, bet he'd like to get so fucking condescending if you soil the gloves, bet he'd love it if you grabbed at his arms as he progressively got more and more intense, adding a sensitizing jutsu or an aphrodisiac into the mix. I dunno, I feel like he'd be very 'invasive', like he wants to prod your insides. Well, at least you'll find out what sounding is.
--- ADVENTUROUS DOMINEERING
Treats sex as conquest, control and a show of force. It's not so much that sex is fun or sex is sport, but sex is control. Very emotionally closed off, they're here to conquer and dominate other people, and sex is just one of many tools in the arsenal.
Kakuzu. Coldest sexual encounter you'll ever have. He's like the daddydom trope jacked up to 100; powerful, tall, dominant and rich. And handsome, depending on who you ask. I don't think he cares about sex enough to actively seek it out, but I also don't see him outright rejecting a good offer if it crops up. But it will be on his terms, for as long as he wants, and in the way that he wants. I mean, those threads in his body are thick enough to be put to use in more unconventional, creative ways than just for fighting. Do you think he doesn't know that? Yeah, he'd pick up real fast on why you approached him with the offer to begin with, you can't seduce him that easily (or perhaps at all). Now I'm thinking about what sort of monetary exchange there would be (because there would be a monetary exchange). Does he pay you or do you pay him? Well, I guess it depends on what you want from the encounter. If you came to him asking about his 'sexy tentacles' (he didn't appreciate you calling them that), the dick's not free. Pay up. If, however, you let him indulge in what he wants, he'd be willing to part with his coin for a good service. Likely favorites: brat taming, just something so satisfying about it. I would say dirty talk but it's more like verbal abuse in his case. Hey, a man has gotta have outlets. Also, he's up for bondage, and probably some S&M stuff if he's in the mood to really get into it. 'Safe word'? Pfft, he doesn't know what you're talking about; you're here until he gets enough of you.
Madara. Not dick and not pussy, he goes hard for power. There is nothing hotter than a show of dominance and proof of might. And there's an important distinction: it doesn't count asserting yourself over weaklings. No, he wants to take the most powerful person he can find and make them submit to him. His equal or his better that he can put on their knees. Ouch, such a ruthless elitist, give him the best or fuck off. I'm pretty sure that's why his opinion on women wasn't all that favorable, they're just inherently nerfed, there's no satisfaction in overpowering someone who's already lower on the totem pole. Though, you're welcome to try and prove him wrong. He means it — fight back, try to take control, he dares you. Immerse him in the physicality of the situation, attack him (and no, not with kisses), he wants the full sensual experience and the ego-boost of having subdued someone with fire and strength in their heart. And oh yeah, he loves getting physical, just make it worth his time. I think that would be the lens through which sex would begin to interest him. If he can't get that, then he'd rather focus on grander goals. Caveat: his stance is a bit different if we're talking about Madara pre-Izuna's death. He'd be more amenable, more emotionally inclined, and would be closer to an example of the healthy Adventurous type; viewing sex as a fun sport. Like, spar with him, wrestle on the floor, trust the process and his hands will find the right place to touch. I mean, he'd still be attracted to a similar dynamic, but it wouldn't be so uncompromising. Likely favorites: fuck-fighting. His hand pins yours down, your legs straddle his thigh, you raise it up so you can reach what's in-between with ease. The more movement, the better. Just don't get tardy, don't stare too much at his twitching cock or he'll get self-conscious and you'll ruin the tempo (about the same shyness as having someone watch him pee in canon lmao). Somewhat of a sadomasochist, but within reason: biting, scratching, taunting, generally only lite violence. And I swear everyone always ignores his obvious masochistic tendencies, he fucking loves feeling the impact of someone's mark on him, the issue is being powerful enough to be able to leave it.
DUTIFUL
Don't have a strong natural interest in sex. Within a relationship, they see sex as their obligation to their partner, but it's not a big priority to them. Usually tend to be intellectually inclined instead of sexual or emotional. Basically, many other things take precedence before sex even enters their peripheral.
Kakashi. Wooo, sex! ... Just kidding, it's not all that. Despite all the smut he reads on company time (based), he doesn't actually remember the last time he messed around with another person. More of a right hand connoisseur, if you will. Anyway, sex is rarely in his crosshairs. And no, it's not because he takes care of his desires with porn. I think it's pretty obvious that the porn is partly for pleasure, but mostly for escapism. Unfortunately, being a trauma dumpster comes with a lot of nasty side effects like anhedonia, and yeah, it's quite difficult to get into it when you're haunted by ghosts of the past. Look at him masking his emotional hurt with humor. :) Of course he can have sex, but I don't see him as a particularly engaging lover or at least for the sex to be rather infrequent. In fact, I think he'd rather avoid making commitments. *sigh* Why can't he just go see a prostitute? Oh, he can? Well… uh… 😳 ... Yeah. We know that he gets all flustered and blushy when confronted with sexual topics, like he's out of his field. Even at his best, he's more of the intellectual type than the physical or passionate type. So, while technically he can... will he? Hm. Nah, he'd rather go back to Icha Icha. Likely favorites: pseudo-sex. Mutual masturbation is nice and quick enuf. Voyeurism can be fun, of course with permission. It's basically like porn anyway. He'd rather not be acknowledged directly, though. Like, don't stare lovingly into his eyes, even the mask won't be able to hide his blush. The mask stays on, by the way. Non-negotiable.
Shikamaru. In his mind, sex is a very simple 1+1 equation. He gives you what you want, and you give him what he wants. Ez. Oh, remember: it'd be cool if you could 'look' good together. When you're out where other people can see you, be decent, okay? If you look like a good couple, people will view the both of you favorably. It's just easy good boy/girl points. As for what happens behind closed doors, whatever you want, honestly. Unless it requires him to do too much work, then he'd grumble about it. He'd still probably do it, let's not kid ourselves. I mean, he's probably scared of upsetting you, especially if you have a temperament (which he loves if you do, in fact please do, someone needs to melt his icy layer of indifference). Watch him enjoy it in the end, anyway. You're behind the wheel most of the time, just tell him what makes you happy, and he'll make sure the two of you have a mutually beneficial, functioning relationship. As far he's concerned, that's a reward on its own. Since he's the type to go with the path of least resistance, you can pave the way the river flows. If you don't like what you get, then you weren't honest with your desires from the get-go, babe. So yeah, either he adapts to you, or you have vanilla sex. He would take initiative and use that brilliant mind of his on some special occasions, though. If he doesn't give you the most satisfying orgasm on White Day every year, then you can call him out on failing spectacularly. Likely favorites: here's a good one: he lies on his back and you straddle him on top until he's hard enough to sit on. That way he doesn't have to do anything but still gets off. Absolute perfection.
Neji. His view on sex goes somewhere along these lines: sex is part of the contract and he wants to uphold his end of the bargain. Which also probably means no sex outside of an established monogamous relationship, but I'm not sure to which degree this extends. Would he still be fine with other sexual acts besides penetration casually? Maybe, but if you come at him with these requests, then he will assume you want to change your last name to Hyuga eventually. If you want him, then please be proper about it and discuss the implication of this union. Understand that you are courting someone from a prestigious family, so are you sure that this is a responsibility you want and can handle? As you can imagine, it's never just about passion. Anyway, once you get into bed with him, you'll find that he leans traditional and safe, basically the tried and true combo of foreplay + missionary. He is considerate of what you like and would try his best to please you, but I think he'd be a slightly frigid lover (in fact, I had him in Frigid category before realizing he's not to that extreme). Not willing to try crazy, interesting stuff, and not even that sexually-inclined. The most adventurous he's willing to get is using his Byakugan to detect your erogenous areas. Respect is a big deal to him, so there will always be an air of distance between you. Acts that could be interpreted as objectification are insulting to him. He is a bit cold, which he can't change, but if nothing else he can assure you that you'll never feel like an afterthought to him because he takes you very seriously. Likely favorites: body exploration, and lite body worship. If you're his lover, he considers you very dear to him, so it's natural to him to want to show appreciation. He would like everything that is pleasant, quiet, and gentle: kissing, licking, caressing, hugging, whispering. Also, white or pastel lacy undergarments. He has an eye for elegance and tasteful embellishments so it would really be a visual treat to him.
Tobirama. Mark sexual intercourse on the calendar. You will be having it on the 20th, if the Daimyo does not unexpectedly whip up more documents to sort out the budget, in which case the scheduled intercourse will be happening on the 22nd at the earliest. As your lover, it is his duty to cater to your needs and desires, and he will unbegrudgingly do so. He signed up for it, after all. However, also as your lover, he is compelled to tell you that his obligation to you cannot interfere with his duties to the village. He hopes that you understand the hierarchy of priorities he has set out and why it has to be this way. Oh yeah, this guy's icy cold. I do have a bit more to add, though. While yes, he's not particularly sexually-inclined, he can get quite freaky. I can't overlook the fact that he was basically conducting morally dubious experimentation. Like, as a hobby, really. The implication of which is this: there's a lot of curiosity in him that he could bring to bed. If you don't like it, he's fine with having a very vanilla experience, but if you're up for something more engaging… well, he's read that having an outlet like that can be healthy. Still, prepare for sex to be a rare occurence in general. Likely favorites: orgasm control. He will have you wait weeks for a good fuck, then when he's finally in your arms (or you're in his), he will hit you with 'mm, you can hold it longer, can't you?' as he edges you just enough to almost get you to the point of release before withdrawing his cool hand from your body and watching you twitch and pant. Come to think of it, kind of a sadist. Also, gets creative using the shadow clones. How would you like to be fucked by two of him? Three?
--- DUTIFUL FRIGID
The ice queens (kings in this case lol). They're just not that interested in sex or emotion. They don't even really care about sex as a form of duty, at most it's an annoying obligation. These characters are very intellectual, so they're quick to rationalize and become disgusted by sex. Require very specific contexts to naturally feel inclined to engage in sexual activity.
Sasori. Not only does he have a stand-offish, aloof personality, but he lacks tactile perception, so sex wouldn't be that much of a worthwhile experience for him. Of course, his sight, hearing and (possibly) smell are there, so there is a way for him to enjoy some parts of the act. He doesn't have much interest in it, though. If he did, he wouldn't have turned himself into a doll to begin with. Though, while I think his libido is very low, something is there. Beauty and sex are interlinked, and the former is at the forefront of his priorities, so I'm thinking there has to be a reason for it. If nothing else, he is not blind to sexual appeal. I'm not sure how he'd express it, or perhaps he wouldn't. I doubt he'd use his creations for that purpose, because works of art aren't sex toys. You shouldn't soil masterpieces with bodily fluids. Speaking of masterpieces, since his body, too, is a work of art, I think his sexuality would be autoerotic. He'd get off on himself being perceived as ethereal. He's wants to see and hear affirmations of his desirability, but to also be just out of reach for his lover, like a god with a devoted worshipper. 'You can look, but you can't touch' sort of thing. What matters is that even though he's the object of desire, he's still in control. Likely favorites: lite crossdressing and worship, except he's the only one being worshipped. And don't touch him. Love him with your eyes and words. He didn't dress up for you to tear everything off, art isn't enjoyed in fragmented pieces. Also, body jewelry. Enchanting, of course, like everything else about him. For how secretive he is, sexually he really just wants to be beautiful and admired.
--- DUTIFUL NEUROTIC
The uppermost part of the dutiful quadrant, bordering on nurturing (hyper-sensitive). They're sensitive to the power exchange during sex, more easily worried by stuff, so there's too much going on in their heads to be able to actually enjoy sex. They're held back by their own trepidations and reservations. Might view sex as something dirty or beneath them.
Sasuke. I'm so glad this tier is called Neurotic because if I had to pick one word to describe Sasuke (or almost any Uchiha, for that matter), it would be exactly that. Sex is not straightforward with people like this. There are 'obstacles' that need to be overcome. Firstly, sex requires a lot of trust, and Sasuke is not one to give it freely. He's so high up on self-preservation scale that you might as well be an enemy until proven otherwise. Call it paranoia, but from his point of view he's being sensible. Secondly, sex is an intimate experience and intimacy feels invasive to him. He doesn't want you to know what he feels because feelings are a liability. Not only that, but they're often fleeting. He's aware of more things than he lets on; you think he doesn't know that those girls swooning over him were just chasing a short-lived high? Yeah, he knows. You wanting to fuck him means nothing to him. He's not even flattered. More wary, if anything. Does he view sex as beneath him? In a superficial way, he might. It's easy for him to look down on others for succumbing to their desires and feelings when he's built a fort around his own heart and can pretend it doesn't pertain to him. But here's something he doesn't want to admit: behind that fort lies a tender heart, keen and longing. What I'm trying to say is that good sex would absolutely wreck him. Tears in his eyes and tension in his muscles, staring at you like he's not really all there. It's just insanely difficult to get there because of how many defenses he puts up. Good luck if you think it's worth it. Likely favorites: merging his soul with yours so that a part of you forever lives in the very essence of who he is as a person, reframing the way he views the world as your worldview bleeds into his and he can no longer tell who he was before you. Also, biting. It helps him relieve tension, feel his own sense of agency, and grounds him in reality.
NURTURING
Cares less about sex and more about the cuddling and smooching prior or post coitus. They see sex as a way of connecting with and providing for their lover. Doesn't emphasize the raw libidinal aspects of sex but more-so the relational, emotional aspects. Has paternalistic energy. Very loving, but not exciting.
Iruka. Papa Iruka's home. I feel like this tier was made specifically for him. Big heart, soft disposition. More than any other character, he doesn't 'fuck', he 'makes love'. And it's important the way you phrase it, because it reflects the mentality behind the act. For him, sex is a genuinely tender act, like a wordless love confession. There's nothing ambiguous about him, you will know he desires you if he puts in that extra care and attention into things involving you. Well, he does that for everyone, but there will be an extra layer of care just for you. You will also know because he'll get flustered upon you reciprocating. Yep, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and it will definitely show during sex when the emotions are especially heightened. The type of person that will make the most basic acts feel deeply profound due to how much sincerity and warmth they're seeped with. You will be seen, and heard, and held, and loved, and he won't allow it to be any other way. Sex is never just for sex's sake, it's also for the emotional bonding, and for him to show you that, yep, he really, really, really likes you and even more than that, wants you very, very, very happy. Wholesome-maxxing every single day. I'm just sitting here, trying to think of like half a flaw that he could have… umm, the worst is that the passion might turn a bit stale. A bit boring. It's easy to love what serves you and it's even easier to take it for granted, I mean people get bored of the same old. It's up to you to spice it up because that's not something on his mind. Likely favorites: something sweet and nice and intimate and validating. Little moments of you gazing at each other that linger for a few seconds as he gently strokes your cheek before a deep kiss. Pillow talk afterwards is the best thing ever. <3
Yamato. He's such a good mix of by-the-book and adaptive. I think he's one of the healthiest characters when it comes to sex, and it's a bit weird to say that because of how messed up his backstory is. He's quite emotionally attuned by nature (I say this because it meant a lot to him to have positive emotional feedback from his team, meaning it's a priority). Just because he wasn't allowed to develop the skills for it, doesn't mean his natural inclinations went away, just suppressed. But I think this inherent tenderness would blossom up during particularly intimate moments such as during sex. You can modify behaviors but you can't change the core of who you are, after all. It doesn't have to be sex for him to gradually soften up, either. In fact, sex probably doesn't even make it to his top 10. He's happy to ocassionally indulge in it, especially if his lover wants it, but he's equally happy with just hand-holding or smooching, or staring into the sunset together if you'd prefer. Probably not as awkward as some might want to headcanon, but even if he does something wrong (which he'll try very hard not to), he'll be quick to react and fix it. I can't imagine him as anything other than attentive and considerate, but also lowkey. Like: wait, did anyone even know that Yamato has a lover? Likely favorites: he's so happy with just default vanilla stuff, he really doesn't need or want anything extra. As far as he's concerned, it's already a big privilege to be in bed with you. He likes your smile and the glint in your eye that informs him you're enjoying him, that's the best gift you can give him.
Itachi. One word: understated. The way he goes about romance and sex is contained like a quiet little stream. You need to go out of your way to scoop its water up. And only when you get close enough do you realize how deep of a wellspring it is, enough to drown in. Are you getting tired of his metaphors? Don't expect him to drop the lyrical language, he will never be explicit in either meaning of the word. But please don't misunderstand him, he's not dubious. Unlike most other intellectual types, he's very emotionally attuned. Being particularly sensitive and intuitive, he always knows what your desire of the night is, sometimes even before you do. He'll pick up on the smallest detail, like a playful glint in your eye, and use it to adapt to exactly what you wish. If you're feeling mischievous, he will tease you, booping you on the tip of your nose before kissing it, then falling victim to your contagious laughter. If you're feeling down, he will have you leaning against his shoulder as he traces a little heart over your back — as a little nonverbal confirmation that whatever happens, you will always have his love and support. If you're feeling horny, he would, as he'd say, 'stir a fire in your heart with indulgent passion' or maybe 'have you quiver and swell under him'. One thing stays consistent though: his touch is always gentle. In general, he's the type of person to give everything and take nothing back. And that's where his underbelly might show: he doesn't do well with reciprocation. You will never love him the way he loves you simply because he doesn't allow himself to be loved to that extent. You'd think he wants it to be one-sided. Likely favorites: he's a service top through and through. Loves coaxing reactions from you, seeing your face coil in pleasure and relief. It feels so good to serve the person he loves. Gets mesmerized by your body's responses such as twitches, tension, shivers, or winces, and ends up staring intensely before getting a bit self-conscious and looking away with flushed cheeks. Strong preference for gentle and loving acts, so no, he will not degrade or hurt you, even if you really, really want him to.
--- NURTURING HYPER-SENSITIVE
Philophobic. Fears love. Or in this case, fears sex. Emotionally might be interested in (or curious about) it, but behaviorally leans towards asexuality. Not necessarily put off by it, but fearful of and uneasy with the intimacy that comes with it.
Gaara. To be honest, he's still learning what healthy platonic interactions with others are, so for him to indulge in something even more complex, that is romantic and sexual relationships, is a very big step. And he's not really sure if he's ready for it. The fear is two-fold: he fears being seen to that degree, in a way that he hasn't been seen before, but also fears his own ability to hurt or disappoint his lover. He first needs to grow more comfortable with the idea. Please wait, like a grain of sand waits in the desert for the sun to rise. Oh, was that a bad metaphor? Sorry, he isn't very good at this. He just wants you to know that his affection is real, and he's not rejecting you because he doesn't feel for you, but rather because he feels too much and doesn't know if it won't spill out of him in improper ways. He's blind to the fact that you might actually want it to spill out that way, that it's the point. Perhaps if you can get him out of his shield of sand and crumble the armor underneath, immerse him in your passions, he'd like to find out what real desire feels like. Despite the cold start, he'll eventually match your intensity, like in that metaphor: the sun will warm the sand come morning. But first you have to let him into your world, as that will become the ultimate standard that his own sexuality develops around. And I say develops because that was not something he ruminated much about before, this is really new and really nerve-wracking for him. Likely favorites: umm… is holding hands while sweetly looking into your eyes okay? 😊 … Could you please trace your finger across his back again? … Could you please take control again; he loves how your fingers wrap around him? … Is it okay if he kisses your hand afterwards? … O-oh, the color of his cheeks could rival his crimson hair? … Yes, he leans towards submission, at least at first. The way you touch him will be the way he touches you. It's not that he's delicate but he's quite sentimental, so please play nice.
--- NURTURING DELUSIONAL
They're emotionally deep and they want to dive deeply into the ideal of relationships. However, unlike core Nurturing, instead of wanting to care for their partner, they're more self-centered - they just want to realize a perfect fantasy brought to life. They use sexual relations as a way of indulging themselves into this fantasy, as a temporary escape from reality.
Nagato. He lives most of his life in his head. Not only is he the strongly introverted type, a deeply traumatized man, but he's also not very physically mobile. A prisoner of his own thoughts, basically. Sex, like many things, is delulu land to him. He has a particular vision in his head of how he'd want it to play out, but he knows that it's literally impossible in his current state. For one, in his fantasies, he's not essentially bedridden. Being met with the prospect but not being able to act on it would make him grow even colder and more jaded, so he just... avoids it. Not to get too esoteric (although he totally would), he probably just transmutes his sexual energy into other things. But yeah, I don't think he's asexual. He probably fantasizes about it, once a moon, but as an alternate universe sort of thing, like what could have been but will never happen. Would change the topic or get dismissive if asked about it (he really doesn't need reminders on just how much was taken from him). Likely favorites: something like soft mommydom/daddydom stuff. If he's opening his cold, guarded heart to you, then he's also opening the side of himself that desperately wants to feel nurtured and loved. He would be soft and adoring with his lover, but would need to have that reciprocated tenfold. If you're a woman, he especially likes the idea of breastplay, softly squeezing and sucking, kneading your skin like a kitty. Would love to have his head caressed, and be referred to with affectionate petnames.
ASEXUAL
Characters that aren't interested in having sex.
Orochimaru. Sex sounds rather inane. He understands reproductive sex, but doesn't really understand recreative sex. It all sounds like a terrible waste of time. Even if it is for reproduction, he isn't interested in symbolic immortality through offspring, he wants the real deal. Of course, he is aware of the evolutionary drive, perhaps even more than the average person, yet he's also keenly aware that he himself lacks it. Sex just doesn't provide the type of stimulation that he enjoys, it's not intellectual enough. It's either for a personal power-trip or for bonding, and he's not drawn to either of those things. Admittedly, gestation is interesting, but that's a consequence of the act, not the act itself. Perhaps an artificial life form could be created using a similar principle of mitosis. Dear, are you sure you came asking the right person about sex? It's not something he's ever been interested in. Just know this: he's going to have a laugh if you try to seduce him, genuinely. You've misread him in a very pathetic way, it's like you don't know your target at all. Such a callous approach. Oh, but don't take it personally. We all make mistakes, it's just that we also have to suffer their consequences. Mockery is far from the worst thing you can experience. Now, about that artificial life form…
Zetsu. More interesting than I thought. Going to explain in a roundabout way. Traditionally, there are two androgyne archetypes: sexual and neuter. Sexual androgynes are highly sexed, with pronounced, overt primary sexual characteristics, breasted and bepenised (think Satan in Devilman Crybaby). Neuter androgynes are phenomenologically neutral: unbreasted (male chest) and unbepenised, that is to say, nothing is overt, it's all flat. I think he's a perfect example of the latter. An essentially sexless entity. A 'divine' androgyne. It makes sense, Zetsus don't need sex, they don't reproduce in the conventional sense. And while Zetsus do possess intellectual curiosity, I don't think it extends to sexual curiosity, because they don't have the capacity for emotion and therefore don't have libido. But I also don't think it'd be awkward to interact with Zetsu about sex, because it's such a blank: no shame, no ridicule, no risk, nothing. Come to think of it, I bet Zetsu asked Obito a lot about puberty when he was going through his personal boyish hell in that cave. I can already imagine Madara probably pretending to be asleep so he doesn't accidentally become a father figure to Obito by giving him the boy talk lol. Hey, Zetsu would've listened attentively to learn more about this 'hooman' stuff. But yeah, it's a literal alien life form trying to figure out the reproductive behaviors of the human species.
i did my best to base this on their canon personalities, but everything is still filtered through me. i especially put in an effort to write in the character's 'voice', so for example more jokes on the light-hearted personalities and more clinical jargon on the coldly logical types. also don't take this as definitive, it's totally okay to interpret these characters in other ways.
this took way longer than i thought it would, wow. definitely a mental exercise. but it was a lot of fun trying to figure out what the boys might be into.
also, i only wrote for characters that i personally like or are part of the main cast, but it still turned out to be way more work than i bargained for hah 😖
Just for funsies. Kakashi's text might be a bit inclined to fem!reader, but other than that it's g!n | Deidara, Genma, Hidan, Ino, Iruka, Itachi, Jiraiya, Kakashi, Kiba, Naruto, Orochimaru, Rock Lee, Sai, Sakura, Sasuke, Shikamaru, Shino & Tobirama
A/n: Today has been a rollercoaster. 2nd time trying to post this. I also got my first Obito request and have been contemplating what I'll eat up now to learn more about him and write it. I'm really excited! I added Genma (finally) in honor of @genmashiranuilover69
This one I dedicate to my queen, the legend, the myth, @arabella0001! 🩷
Tag list: @ichxraaa | Tag list is OPEN for all AUs, please comment or DM me so I can add you to whatever you want to be tagged in <3
✎ Masterlist | Have a request? Drop it here!
🎀 DO NOT repost, translate, modify, or feed my content to AI. All rights to the original writing and plots belong to me!
a/n: This is my personal take on the characters. If it's not your vibe, that's cool, no need to hate. XOXO
Itachi: MIRROR SEX
Itachi would love making you watch what he does to you. First time, you would be so shy.
He talked into your ear, undressing you, slow and deliberate, until you remained stark naked, while he was still dressed. Then started stroking your clit leisurely, until you shook uncontrollably.
He bent you over, hands on the glass, as he unbuttoned his pants, sliding in unhurried but deep. His eyes never left yours in the reflection. Dark. Hungry. Completely in control.
“You feel so good, my love. Look at that face. You like it, don’t you, baby? Yes, you do.”
Yahiko/Tendo Pain: FACE FUCKING
Oh, this guy loves eating pussy, and when I say this, I mean it.
He loves his face drenched in you, your hips moving in circles while he switches between his nose and tongue to flick your bud, the cold metal of his piercings dragging against you each time. He even gets hysterical, heart pounding and all, if you squirt on his face. He loves being suffocated by your pussy. He doesn't care if he can't breathe. He doesn't want to
“Yes baby. That’s it. Fuck, don’t you dare stoppping. Let go for me.”
Nagato: BODY WORSHIP
He loves you. Your personality, your smile, your eyes, your cute face, and your body. That’s why he would take his time every time - kissing every inch of you, complimenting even your scars and marks. He sees them as unique parts of you.
“You are so beautiful baby. Look at this tummy. These hips. You are so beautiful. I love you so much.”
Sasori: Somnophilia
He's the type to wake in the middle of the night and crave that sweet pussy. Once you agree to it, he's the happiest man alive, starting by planning it in silence. He doesn't rush. He never rushes.
That night, you feel his tongue first. Slow. Flat. Dragging through your folds like he has all night. "Tastes so fucking good, princess."
His voice is low, rough, barely a whisper. "C'mon. Wake up."
You stir. His mouth doesn't stop. "That's it. Good girl, baby."
Deidara: MUTUAL MASTURBATION
He would definitely get off just by watching you, sitting on a futon across from the bed.
You, toying your clit with three fingers, whispering his name all the while, he, stroking his length, in the same rhythm you do, the tongue in his palm following the thick veins that scream with want.
Your breaths syncing. Your moans echoing each other.
“Spread your legs wide. Yeah, exactly like that. Fuck, you’re soaked princess. All that for me, hm?”
Hidan: EDGING
Hidan is completely merciless, liking to be in control of your body. It doesn’t matter how much you beg, how tears stream down your cheeks, drenching your desperate face.
No. He would play with you as much as he wants, giving you hope, feeling the orgasm near and nearer, and then he would stop, slapping your cunt slightly. And he’d laugh, that unhinged, gleeful laugh.
He would do this until he thinks that you deserve to cum, but it would be worth all the desperation in the end.
“What was that? You can't wait anymore? Ohhh, but you can. Yes, you can. Say it. 'Yes, I can.' Louder. 'YES, I CAN.' There's my good little girl.”
Suigetsu: ROLEPLAYING
I feel like Suigetsu would be the type of submissive catboy boyfriend, but he wouldn't hesitate to take the lead if you wanted him to. He does pretty much whatever you want.
Ears on. Tail on. Whining when you tug his leash. He'll hate how much he likes it.
And when he is in charge? He's not mean. He's earnest. "Tell me if it's too much. Wait — was that hot? Did that sound hot? I'm trying."
He'll be anyone. Anything. Just tell him the script.
Madara: BREATH PLAYING
The moment you agree to his request, because you are down bad for this too, it wouldn’t be a time when this won’t happen.
Fucking you into the mattress, Madara would switch from cutting the air from your lungs, or letting you exhale small amounts of it, a crude smile on his face. His palm pressed flat against your throat. Thumb and fingers curled around the sides. Not squeezing yet, just resting there. A promise.
“Breathe for me. That's it. Now hold it. Good girl.”
The same goes while you ride him, or as you take it from behind.
The reaction of your body would make your pussy squeeze him so hard, that he would not be able to thrust all the way inside you. Your nails would dig into his shoulders. Your mouth would fall open, searching for air that isn't there. And he'd watch, hungry, drinking in every desperate sound.
pls don’t read this if you don’t like porn links please know that the characters are up to age meaning they are either adults or teen ages 18-19
~ DEIDARA
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~ HIDAN
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~ ITACHI UCHIHA
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~ SASORI
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This post was harder than I expected and I tried so I hope some people like it twitter videos are getting harder and harder to find not to mention trying to have the videos match with the characters because how they act or studying them
MULTI | the shinobi gothic — entry #04: painted mouths, stolen hearts 🕯️
ft. deidara, hidan, kisame, kakuzu, zetsu
summary: five gothic romance vignettes for artists, heretics, monsters, misers and things that mistake keeping you for love
word count: 4,878
content: gn!reader, multi-character x reader, gothic romance, dark romance elements, horror imagery, canon-typical violence, cliffhanger endings, individual content tags are attached to each mini-story
a/n: the horrors persist but so does the sexual tension. gods forbid a missing-nin have hobbies, feelings and your precise location 🙄
🖤 series masterlist
DEIDARA — beautiful destruction
content: canon-typical deidara violence, destruction of religious sites, children's remains, clay creatures and mouths, stalking as courtship, obsessive attention, voice theft
The first temple had not collapsed, it had bloomed.
There was no kinder word for the way its roof had opened beneath the blast, blackened tiles curling back like petals scorched at the edges. The prayer bells had fused together, sealing a dozen bronze throats into one useless mouth, while the stone foxes knelt with their faces split. The surviving monks could not explain why the little clay flower at the centre remained untouched by ash or rain.
It had five white petals, a stem no thicker than your finger and a mouth where its heart should have been. The lips were pursed as if keeping a secret.
“Don’t touch it,” your escort warned.
You let your hand fall. It was not the destruction that tempted you, nor the heat still breathing from the floorboards. It was the care—someone had ruined a holy place and knelt afterwards to leave something delicate among the dead.
By the third temple, you understood that Deidara had been choosing his canvases. One shrine concealed relics taken during the war, while another had been raised over a trench of unrecorded bodies. Beneath the prayer hall of the third, you found ledgers naming every refugee a local lord had sold back across the border. Deidara did not expose the rot so much as detonate everything built to hide it. He wanted no righteous truth, only a revelation that scarred the earth.
He was waiting at the fourth ruin, perched on a roof beam above a row of headless saints. Smoke silvered his bright hair and made the red clouds on his cloak appear to drift.
“You’re late, yeah.”
“You overbalanced the western arch.”
His heel stopped swinging at that. When you explained that the inward collapse had spoiled the symmetry of his blast, disbelief tightened his mouth before delight broke through it. His laughter rang obscenely through the roofless sanctuary.
“You’ve got nerve, criticising my work while you’re standing inside it.”
“You left it for someone to notice.”
“Someone with taste, yeah.” He leaned forwards, studying you as if the ruin had produced one last unexpected fragment. “I was starting to think none of you had any.”
After that, his attention began appearing wherever yours had been. A clay moth slept between the pages of your mission report, powdering the paper white when it stirred, and a bird watched from your windowsill for three nights without blinking. During an interview with the lord whose donations had funded the temples, a spider crept from your sleeve and clicked its tiny teeth until the man confessed merely to make it stop.
None of the creatures harmed you, but this was not mercy. Mercy released its object; Deidara’s little mouths followed you home.
The flower you found beside your pillow was still damp from one of his palms. You sat across the room until sunrise, listening to its sealed lips breathe. When the petals finally opened, they revealed a message pressed into the clay beneath them.
You looked bored.
You found him again on a ruined bell tower, feeding clay into the mouths in his hands. Their tongues worked wetly over the yielding white mass, and something winged began to flex between his fingers.
“Obscene, isn’t it?” he asked, catching your stare.
“You were going to say beautiful.”
“Same thing, if you’re honest.” The new bird climbed onto his knuckle. Its breast was smooth, but you could hear a faint mechanism ticking inside. “That’s what I like about you. You keep pretending disgust is the reason you come.”
You accused him of turning prayer houses into graves and he accused them of turning graves into prayer houses. When you told him he wanted witnesses rather than justice, the bird flew to your shoulder and its claws pierced your clothes. Deidara followed it close enough for you to smell smoke on his hair and the mineral dampness of clay on his skin.
“Art is only eternal if no one survives it unchanged,” he murmured once he was close enough.
“There’s a difference between changing someone and scarring them.”
“Only to people ashamed of their scars, yeah.”
The ticking quickened against your throat. His gaze rested on your mouth with such feverish concentration that you finally understood the gifts for what they were—studies. He had been learning what startled you, what disgusted you, what you could not stop yourself from touching.
“It only explodes if you lie to yourself,” he promised.
You cupped the bird in both hands, feeling that tiny false heart labour against your palms. “And…if I lie to you?”
His smile became almost tender. “Then I make something unforgettable.”
That night, a procession carried the stolen relics through the valley beneath red lanterns where Deidara’s creatures had already colonised the route. Moths clung beneath the eaves; spiders nested in the prayer ropes; white flowers filled the mouths of every roadside god. As the first fuse caught, you ran towards the shrine cart while the crowd scattered, and the lacquered reliquary split open before them all.
Children’s bones spilled across the road.
Above the screaming villagers, Deidara balanced on the back of a clay bird, gold hair lashed wild by the approaching storm. His laughter faltered when you raised your face through the ash—not because horror had failed to find you, but because something worse had arrived beside it. Recognition, and the terrible beauty of a secret forced into daylight.
His expression told you he had seen it, then, the second explosion swallowed the valley like a sunrise learning to bite.
You woke in your own bed with grit between your teeth and no memory of being carried there while rain ticked at the window. On the pillow beside you, the clay bird beat its wings while a note trembled beneath its feet.
Tell me whether I changed you.
Its ticking stopped. The mouth opened, shaped itself around a voice it had heard often enough to steal, and answered in yours.
“It was beautiful.”
HIDAN — blood saint
content: hidan 💀, religious and cult horror, blasphemy, blood rituals, graphic injury, visible organs, repeated death and resurrection, involuntary bodily movement, possessiveness, sacrificial imagery, supernatural marking
There was blood on the shrine door, five fingerprints dragged down the wood as though someone inside had tried to claw their way out. You saw them through the rain and entered anyway. The storm had drowned the forest road, lightning was peeling branches from the trees, and omens were easier to survive when they had a roof.
Inside, every little god had been turned to face the wall. Prayer ropes hung stiff from the rafters, silver pendants had been nailed over the windows, and a ritual circle filled the floorboards in lines of drying blood. A man lay at its centre with his chest split open.
You had begun backing towards the door when one violet eye opened.
“Took you long enough.”
He grinned at your horror. Pale hair clung to his face, his cloak was sodden beneath him, and several things no living person should see moving inside his chest. Another body moved when he propped himself on one elbow and the locked door ignored your attempts to wrench it open.
“You— You should be dead,” you managed.
“Yeah, people keep saying that.” His gaze travelled over you, bright with either pain or pleasure. With him, you suspected the distinction had long since been worn away. “Very fucking rude.”
His name was Hidan, offered with the casual confidence of a threat. You kept your blade within reach while binding what could be bound, because leaving him open upon the floor felt too much like giving the shrine what it wanted. He criticised your knots, preached Jashin’s appetite and flirted throughout with such cheerful obscenity that you nearly forgot he had enough blood beneath him to drown a smaller man.
Then your palm slipped against a broken offering bowl.
One drop struck the circle. Suddenly, every lamp flared blue, the prayer bells convulsed without wind, and the dark lines beneath your knees began rearranging themselves like veins seeking a heart. Shadows appeared behind the paper screens—dozens of kneeling shapes, their heads bowed towards you.
Hidan stopped laughing immediately. Revelation hollowed the humour from his face and left hunger shining beneath it.
“Well,” he breathed. “Aren’t you interesting?”
The shrine, he explained, belonged to a sect so old even he considered them fanatics. They believed immortality was not Jashin’s reward but His loan, and that every breath taken beyond death incurred interest. Blood for breath, pain for proof. An undying body must remain an open account.
“You came here knowing that?”
“Obviously.” Hidan sat upright, apparently indifferent to the wound reopening beneath your bandages. “What’s the point of worship if your god never bites back?”
“And now it wants me…”
His grin returned, but something territorial had entered it. “Can’t blame the place for having taste.”
At midnight, the centre of the circle cracked apart. Steps descended into earth packed black and glossy with old offerings, and chanting climbed from below, one prayer spoken through many dead mouths. The kneeling shadows rose behind the screens as threads of blood lifted from Hidan’s wounds and streamed towards the hidden altar, pulling him onto his knees.
The force caught you differently. Your body began walking.
Hidan seized your wrist before you reached the stairs. His palm was slick, fever-hot, and now his voice held no mockery. “Don’t.”
The threads tightened. He convulsed, died with his fingers locked around you, then returned on a wet gasp when the bells rang. It happened again before you could call his name. Again before he finished cursing. Each death bowed his spine towards the altar; each resurrection made the grip on your wrist more desperate, until his nails broke your skin and the shrine tasted the two of you together.
The chanting changed. It had found a cleaner offering.
Hidan heard it too. Blood sheeted down his chin as he glanced from the opening floor to the pulse beating under his thumb. “Pain is prayer,” he rasped, “if you know who you’re offering it to.”
“Use my blood and I’ll haunt you until even your god gets sick of me.”
His mouth split into a delighted, feral smile. “Feisty.”
He tore the scythe from his back and drove it through the altar stone. The shrine screamed with every voice it had kept. Rafters cracked; the nailed pendants flung themselves from the walls; dead worshippers poured through the broken floor in bodies made of shadow and old blood. Hidan planted himself between them and you, laughing as they opened him from throat to hip. Every wound became another mouth through which he cursed the thing he worshipped.
“Wrong offering,” he shouted, hauling the scythe free. “You sanctimonious piece of shit!”
While his body barred the stairs, you pressed both hands to the circle and dragged them through its sacred lines. Blood became smears and doctrine became nonsense. The shadows bent towards you with a sound like a congregation drawing breath, but dawn reached the doorway first. The wood burst outwards, and the storm flung you into the grass.
When you woke, the shrine had aged a hundred years. Moss covered the threshold, dust lay inside where no blood had ever dried, and Hidan was gone.
His pendant had been tied around your wrist with a strip torn from his cloak. A note pinned to the earth beside you read, Best little heresy I’ve ever met.
You pulled at the knot but the cloth only tightened until the silver pressed over your pulse, and a black ritual circle surfaced beneath your skin, delicate as a bruise.
Somewhere among the dripping trees, Hidan began to laugh. The sound travelled farther away even as the pendant warmed against you. Then it answered your heartbeat with one of its own.
KISAME — the sea monster
content: drowning, underwater horror, human sacrifice, attempted murder, blood and injury, corpses, predatory imagery, monstrous transformation, carnivorous sea creatures
The harbour had teeth.
They showed first in the dock posts, where something below the tide-line had bitten through salt-swollen timber. The villagers blamed rot, storms, worms—anything but the sea eating people. By the time you arrived, seven more had vanished. The last was a fisherman’s daughter whose basket remained on the pier while the water beneath it frothed red.
No one had seen anything. The headman told you so with the entire village assembled behind him, pale and dry-mouthed, each face repeating the lie before its owner spoke.
That night, a storm pressed the houses flat beneath black rain. You stood at the harbour with a lantern in one hand and a knife in the other, listening to something drag itself beneath the boards, when a voice at your shoulder observed that the blade would not help.
Kisame Hoshigaki seemed to have stepped out of the weather itself. He eclipsed the harbour lights, blue-grey skin streaming, his grin crowded by teeth made for holding whatever he bit. The bandaged sword across his back shifted as if scenting the water. Below the dock, every ripple ceased.
You raised the knife anyway.
“That won’t help either,” he added.
“You’re the missing-nin.”
“One of them.” Kisame glanced towards the black water, and the amusement thinned from his face. “I’m here because something down there has been eating better than I have.”
The sword gave a low rasp beneath its wrappings that sounded unpleasantly like laughter.
You kept watch together because the alternatives were the harbour, the village or turning your back on him. Kisame proved brutal but honest company. He identified chakra in the tide and told you the missing girl was dead unless she had learnt to breathe seawater. When the sword stirred, he rested one hand against its bindings the way another man might soothe a hound.
“Samehada doesn’t like this place,” he explained.
“I find myself agreeing with the sword.”
“Careful. It gets attached.”
Near midnight, the water began speaking. Knocking rigging became syllables dragged through throats full of salt. Names surfaced among the waves—the girl, two fishermen, a long-dead merchant. When a voice called yours, you drifted closer towards the edge. Kisame caught your coat and hauled you away so hard your feet left the dock.
“Never answer water that knows your name.”
“Experience?” you choked, catching the breath he had knocked out of you.
“Common sense.”
Something struck from underneath then. The planks heaved, Samehada shrieked with delight, and Kisame moved in front of you before his smile had time to widen. It was not gentleness; nothing about him invited so soft a word. It was the reflex of a creature accustomed to placing its own hide between danger and the few things it had decided were behind him.
You found the offering board under the fish market the following morning. Names had been carved into it beside tide marks—travellers, orphans, criminals, anyone whose absence might be absorbed by the road. The ritual was older than the harbour, it seemed. Sacrifice one life when the red tide came, the records promised, and the thing below would leave the village boats untouched. Your name was the newest addition. So new, the grooves still held sawdust.
Kisame ran one thumb over them. “Bold.”
“Don’t kill anyone yet.”
“Yet?” His grin returned, slow and sharkish. “You do know how to keep a man interested.”
They came at dusk with weighted nets, driven past shame by the terror of missing a payment. You cut one line and three closed around you. A club glanced off your temple and the harbour tilted. Kisame moved through them like a wave over gravestones while Samehada chewed through rope, weapons and flesh as someone screamed that the monster had betrayed them.
Kisame bared all his teeth. “No. You forgot which one you invited.”
The net dragged you over the edge before he could reach you.
Cold locked your lungs. Beneath the surface, the harbour widened into a depth the coastline could not contain, crowded with faces gone pale from waiting. Hands rose from the silt and mouths shaped your name as the rope pulled you among them. Something vast circled below, its white jaw appearing where the darkness should have ended.
Then Kisame struck the water.
The sea recognised him; his shape lengthened as he descended, skin and sword joining in a silhouette all fin, muscle and appetite. Blood unravelled from his shoulder where the creature’s first bite had found him, but he tore through the net and gathered you against his chest. Samehada’s laughter travelled through your bones.
One of the drowned caught your ankle, and when you looked down you saw that it wore the missing girl’s blue sleeve. The thing beneath the harbour spoke through every corpse at once.
Give us the shark, and we will let you breathe.
Kisame held you suspended in the blood-dark water. He did not deny what he was, soften his face into anything more human or loosen his grasp so you could pretend the choice had not been placed between you. He merely waited, monstrous and wounded, his eyes brighter than the drowned.
You reached for him.
His grin opened against your palm. Samehada screamed, delighted by your answer, and the sea convulsed as Kisame drove both of you into the older creature’s mouth.
You remembered teeth closing and his arm locked around your ribs. Afterwards, he carried you along an empty dock, his skin scored by wounds already sealing. Behind him, the harbour boiled with pale bodies rising at last.
“It knows you now,” Kisame remarked when you coughed seawater over his shoulder.
“Is it dead?”
He glanced back. Far below the floating corpses, a second mouth was closing in the dark.
“Water doesn’t die,” he answered. “It remembers.”
For months, every cup beside your bed tasted faintly of salt. Sometimes you woke with Kisame’s name in your mouth and wet footprints beneath the window that always faced inwards.
KAKUZU — the stitched corpse
contents: corpse imagery, beating/preserved hearts, body horror, graphic organ removal, objectification, possessiveness, supernatural contracts, implied ownership
The ledger should not have breathed, that was the first problem. The second was the ink, which moved whenever your eyes left the page.
Old books tended to acquire strange habits in a bounty exchange. Their corners darkened with blood; their pages stiffened after journeys through rain; desperate men scratched out their names and imagined death would respect the correction. They did not, however, open themselves to accounts written fifty years apart in the same severe hand; they did not list a dead shinobi twice, and they certainly did not record that the second payment had been delivered as a heart.
You found the discrepancy near midnight, alone in the back office while rain worried at the shutters. A Takigakure missing-nin, confirmed killed thirty-two years ago, had appeared beneath a new alias the previous month. The bounty was claimed without a body, and pressed flat beside the sum was a length of black thread.
It curled around your fingertip. You slammed the ledger shut.
“Unwise,” a voice judged behind you.
Kakuzu filled the doorway, taller than the room seemed designed to admit. Cloth concealed his face below inhuman green eyes; the lamplight bent from him, catching upon stitches that vanished beneath his cloak. He regarded you with the patience of a debt that knew exactly where its debtor lived.
“You’re not permitted back here,” you told him.
“You are not permitted to read accounts above your value.”
“And what is my value?”
His attention travelled over you without heat or haste. “Undetermined.”
That was how his courtship began, as an audit he could not finish.
The false accounts led beneath the old slaughter district, where contracts hung from meat hooks and corpse tags were filed by country of origin. Kakuzu brought you because you could recognise the altered entries; he kept you because your continued breathing made the investigation quicker. He made no effort to disguise either calculation.
Yet as he noticed disturbed dust, counterfeit handwriting and every body priced a fraction below its worth, you began noticing him in return. The stitches beneath his cloak moved like worms under burial soil and several heartbeats answered when he entered a room. Whenever the ledger opened to certain older names, his hand covered his ribs before he remembered to prevent it.
He disliked being observed. You continued anyway.
The book grew bolder. It opened on your desk while you slept and filled the room with the papery murmur of breathing. Names bled through from pages beneath them and when you touched an entry, a heartbeat knocked against your finger. Then, one dawn, the ledger found a blank sheet and wrote your name across it in glistening ink.
No price followed.
Kakuzu stared until the lamp guttered. When he called it an accounting error, you pointed out that the book appeared to disagree.
“Everything has a price,” he replied. Black thread tested the cuff of his sleeve like an insect’s feeler. “You should fear that I know yours.”
“If you knew, you would have written it down.”
One of the hearts inside him stumbled. He closed the ledger hard enough to make the table groan.
After that, his protection became suffocatingly efficient. Threats travelled to the wrong address, antidotes appeared before you learnt poison had been purchased, a broker who offered money for your movements lost three fingers while Kakuzu asked whether pain had improved his memory. When you reminded him that he had only called you inconvenient to replace, his silence contained too many heartbeats.
The trail ended in a vault beneath the counting house. Jars lined its walls, each holding a heart labelled with a name, an ability and a price. Bodies sat at desks with their dead hands curled around abacuses, jawbones clicking as if the calculations had continued after language failed. At the centre waited a second ledger, bound in skin that puckered when Kakuzu approached.
Every jar began to beat.
Payment due, the book announced.
Black threads burst from Kakuzu’s back. The masks beneath his cloak screamed as the stolen hearts inside him strained towards their former names, and the ledger opened to your unfinished entry. Ink pooled beside it, gathering itself into the first stroke of a number.
Kakuzu’s fist punched through the page before the price could form. The book shrieked. “Assets are not appraised twice,” he snarled.
“I am not an asset.”
His head turned. Among all those preserved organs and obedient corpses, nothing frightened you as much as the possession in his gaze.
“No,” he agreed.
A thread slipped around your wrist—not tight enough to hurt, not loose enough to mistake for freedom.
The skin-bound cover laughed. Then pay properly.
One of Kakuzu’s hearts stopped. He did not hesitate; his hand plunged into his chest as the seams opened to receive it, and he tore free a living heart webbed in black threads. For one suspended moment it beat between you. Then he dropped it onto the ledger.
The cover opened like a mouth.
When you caught Kakuzu, his weight bowed you both towards the feeding book. His remaining hearts battered his ribs out of rhythm. “Do not,” he warned through the pain, “make this sentimental.”
By dawn, the vault was ash. On the table of your rented room, Kakuzu’s personal ledger lay open even though you had watched him fasten it inside his cloak.
Your name remained. Beside it, in his uncompromising hand, he had written Retained. Ink crept onwards while you watched. It added a date years in the future, then two final words beneath it.
Collection due.
You pressed your fingers to the page. The heartbeat below it was not the one he had surrendered. It was your own.
ZETSU — the thing beneath the garden
content: stalking and surveillance, invasion of privacy, graves and human remains, botanical horror, claustrophobia, physical restraint, attempted burial, possessive behaviour, boundary violations
The flowers turned their heads when you passed.
Nothing moved beneath your direct attention, yet each morning the blooms along the path faced your bedroom even though the sun rose behind them. You had been sent to the abandoned estate because it was growing. Not overgrown. Growing. Vines sealed open doors, moss filled fresh footprints, roots pushed through the floors in maps of battles fought before the house was built.
On your third night, a light voice inside the wall remarked, “Living things sleep so strangely.”
Something deeper answered from beneath the bed. “They are easier to study that way.”
The estate began leaving gifts. A polished finger bone appeared on the windowsill, then stolen letters, then white flowers spelling your name across the coverlet. One morning, you found a dead bird on the threshold with its wings folded in prayer. When you threw it into the woods, plaster dust trickled from the ceiling.
“Wrong?” the wall asked.
“Ungrateful,” the floor replied.
The following day, the bird had been replaced by a silver ring still clogged with grave-soil.
Eventually, you found Zetsu beneath the greenhouse. His face rose through the earth between knots of root, one half white as fungus and the other black as the shadow beneath rotting leaves while a flytrap collar framed him in green. He seemed less like something crawling from the ground than something the ground had finally decided to confess.
“You’re not a ghost.”
“No,” the white half replied, pleased to be understood.
“Worse,” the black half corrected.
You attempted to leave before noon. The path returned you to the same gate three times, marker stones shifted behind your back, and hedges joined where gaps had been. At dusk, the estate waited with its windows veiled in trembling vines.
“I did not trap you,” Zetsu insisted from the rose bed.
“The road disagrees.”
“The ground misplaced you.”
“The ground is lying.”
“Living things are very attached to direction,” White observed.
“Living things are very attached to leaving,” Black answered.
Zetsu’s attention inhabited everything the roots touched. He listened beneath the floor while you walked, appeared in the wall while you dressed and watched from tree trunks as you searched for a route beyond the garden. When you demanded privacy, both halves contemplated the unfamiliar word with grave concentration.
“It means stop watching me.”
The next night, he kept his face out of your room. Flowers opened under your pillow instead, hundreds of pale eyes without pupils. You threw a boot at the wall and the house shed a wounded strip of wallpaper.
Soon the horror became harder to separate from care. Floors warmed beneath your feet and poisonous leaves curled away from your hands. When a stair collapsed, brambles caught you by the waist. After a nightmare, roots lifted your blanket and slid across your ribs, counting each breath.
“No.” You could barely force the word through your throat. “Do not do that.”
The roots stopped.
“Breathing means alive,” White explained from inside the wardrobe.
“Alive means temporary,” Black reminded him beneath the boards.
The graves explained the rest. They lay under the orchard and the house, wherever flowers grew with human teeth caught in their roots. Centuries of battlefield dead had sunk unnamed into the mud, and Zetsu had watched the earth consume them. He understood people best once they stopped moving. Affection was observation, care was preservation, love was the refusal to let the soil lose what it had been given.
You rebuilt the fallen shrine at the garden’s edge, reburied the bones the roots had exposed and spoke the names you could recover. Zetsu watched through the ivy as you pruned the vines strangling the memorial stones.
“You cut living things,” White accused.
“So they can grow without consuming everything around them.”
“You bury dead things,” Black countered.
“So they can rest. Graves are not consent.”
For the first time, the estate gave you no answer.
That night, the garden bloomed with white flowers shaped like reaching hands. Beneath the willow, moss had grown into a perfect impression of your sleeping body, reproducing the turn of your head and each separate finger. Fine roots filled the hollow where your veins would have been.
You packed before the sun cleared the trees. At dusk, the floorboards opened.
Pale fingers pushed through the soil beneath your bed, followed by roots thick with moisture. They wound around your ankles before you reached the door, dragging you hard onto your back. Vines measured your wrists, ribs and throat without crushing them, not yet. Zetsu rose waist-deep from the earth, his divided face holding two incompatible expressions.
“The garden decided,” Black announced. “Below is safer.”
White watched the roots position you over the dark. “Below is forever.”
“Do not bury me and call it love!”
The grip at your throat faltered. All around him, flowers opened in the walls, pink at their centres and hungry for the shape of you.
“Living things need air,” White whispered.
“Living things leave,” Black replied.
Your nails tore against the floorboards. “Then learn distance.”
The estate strained around him. In the garden, trunks split and hedges writhed; beneath you, generations of bones shifted as though the dead were rolling over to listen. Zetsu’s face contorted with the effort of desiring two opposite things.
At last, the roots released you and the garden screamed.
By dawn, half the estate had withered. You woke beyond the gate with earth packed beneath your nails and one rootless white flower resting over your heart. Beside it, a message had been written on a dead leaf in soil-dark ink.
I did not keep you.
Three nights later, miles from the estate, wood creaked beneath your borrowed bed. A pale shoot pressed through the gap between two floorboards and unfurled towards your hand.
“I learnt the distance this time,” Zetsu whispered from under the earth.
When you touched the leaf, something beneath the floor touched you back.
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