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! 🩷
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Naruto characters and what nicknames I think they'd give their S/O
Genre: Pure fluff!!
Author's note: So, I know I said I won't be taking requests for naruto or requests at all at this moment... but I didn't say I wouldn't post some myself!! I am also so sorry that the first five characters don't have stories with their lines, I originally did write some but when my saving failed they were deleted and I felt so defeated I couldn't bring myself to re write it all 😓
Warnings/Notes: Written in 2nd person, so this s/o is you!! These headcannons are based off of my personal perception of the characters, from what I've watched (up to the second arc of shippuden) and what I've seen online. Mentions of alcohol, suggestive themes but nothing happens, it's just loosely mentioned. Headcannon about Orochimaru being a light sleeper in his part.
Characters: Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Rock Lee, Kankuro no Sabaku, Temari no Sabaku, Gaara no Sabaku, Jiraiya, Tsunade, Orochimaru
⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚
Naruto Uzumaki ✾
Because Naruto is more of a casual and laid back character, I think he'd choose nicknames for you that would match this attribute, calling you things like "babe" on the daily. I feel like he'd have different nicknames for you on different occasions. "Sweety" when he's asking for something or being especially apologetic (he's trying to win you over with this one), when he's upset he doesn't call you any nicknames 😔, but on the occasion where he's trying to be especially fun loving, he'll call you by his last name (Mr, Mrs, etc.).
• "I can't believe you'd do something like that, Y/N"
• "What do you say, Uzumaki? Kehe!"
Sakura Haruno ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
Sakura, as we know, is a very romantic individual, as well as very strong willed in both body and mind. Now, although she would do absolutely anything and everything for you, I personally doubt she'd use nicknames that often, mainly because your name is already enough to have her on the moon! Although, on the rare occasion, I can see her calling you names like "dear" in a casual setting or "sweetheart" when she's in a hurry, sappy but cute. I feel like on the occasion where the two of you are in public and she becomes frustrated with you, she might use "honey" with a rough tone (this is the part where you run for your life btw).
• "Dear, could you pass me my headband?"
• "Sweetheart! Are you okay? I heard you were hurt..!"
• "Honey, may I have a word with you..?"
Sasuke Uchiha ⚘ ⸝⋆
We all very much expected this so strap in. Sasuke is not one to refer to you with any nicknames whatsoever, in fact, you might have to put him in a headlock for him to do anything of the sort, that or you're very upset that your lover is yet to refer to you by a cute nickname like everyone else's boyfriends, he doesn't cave easily. Although if he had to, I think he'd choose something like "dear", something you can't go wrong with in any scenario. I do think he'd give you little endearing mean nicknames when you're being stupid though, lmao.
• "Y/N, could you move a bit, please? I can't really see..."
• "Dear? I'm heading out, don't worry too much while I'm gone"
• "What are you doing up there, dummy?"
Kakashi Hatake ⟡˖·
Unlike the aforementioned characters, Kakashi is a bit more playful and willing to experiment with names to call you. I can imagine him using nicknames which relate to attributes of your personality, like, for example, if you're a particularly irritable person, he might call you something like "grumpy". Sometimes he finds inspiration in his books and decides to call you something from those, I can imagine him calling you the name of the lead by accident once or twice. Other than that, in a public setting, I think he'd avoid using pet names (in order to avoid being picked on by his own students). He does tend to use "dear" more in front of people who know about your relationship, close friends, etc.
• "What's with the face? Everything okay, grumpy face?"
• "Elizabeth? What are you- Wait, wait, wait!! No, I didn't say that, you're hearing things, I said uhm- ah-..!!"
• "Dear, would you pass me the chopsticks?"
Rock Lee 𓅪˒˒
From my glorious conquests of reading and watching naruto, I can very accurately deduct that Lee can be described as somewhat of a hopeless romantic, experiencing a long winding journey of unrequited love with Sakura, and in this journey, I believe he would have learnt many fun nicknames. He would definitely use floral motifs when referring to you, names such as "my flower of youth" or "my lotus" are very common for him. I also firmly believe he uses "dearest" as well, just to spice things up from time to time. Lee is a very sweet guy who doesn't need much explanation to his name.
• "My flower of youth! It is so great to see you after such a long mission!"
• "You are very beautiful, my lotus..."
• "Dearest! I have brought a token of my love, flowers..!"
Gaara no Sabaku ~❤︎
Gaara is definitely more of a traditional lover, but less out of preference and moreso out of convenience. Due to the fact that he's never really been called any of those cute nicknames lovers give eachother, he doesn't really know what to do when you get all pouty on the subject, going on like "Gaara, you never call me any cute names!" He didn't even know he was supposed to call you cute names. The first time he did try to give you a cute name, it went... less than well. A favourite nickname of his to call you is "darling" simple, safe, cute, easy to get away with, plus it just makes sense, you're his darling so why not call you that? Other than that, he doesn't call you anything else, considering the concept is new to him.
• "A nickname..?" He'd think long and hard on the subject for a moment "What about scorpion? Because you're skilled and dangerous and- Ah, maybe not... That's not very cute, is it..?" Back to the drawing board.
• "Darling? Where are you going? It's so late..." He'd always be awake to hear you sneaking away for a mission at night.
• "Y/N, get back here..." You could hear his stern tone when you froze, already on your way out of the date after an argument between the two of you.
Kankuro no Sabaku ᖭི༏༏ᖫྀ
Kankuro is much more of a casual lover compared to the others, it's unlikely that he'd get too fussed about nicknames to call you. In fact, it didn't take him that long to come up with something when you asked him about it for the first time. "Babe" is definitely a number one for him, he uses the nickname so often that one time when he was out on a mission for over a month, he only registered that as your name, that did not go well for him when he got home 😬. At times he calls you endearing versions of micro aggressions, mostly small stuff like your hairstyle or tired eyes in the morning.
• "Hey, babe, do you know where that carving knife went? I've been looking for it all morning!" He'd call out to you while incessantly rummaging through his drawers, somehow he didn't have a spare after all these years.
• When waking you up for a mission in the morning, he couldn't help but laugh in your face "Morning, man, you look like you just got out of hibernation, maybe I should start calling you grizzly bear or something" Another nickname which wasn't received well.
• After he had called you "babe" all morning, you had started to get suspicious of something, when asked about it he straightened up awkwardly and shuffled over a bit "Uh, forgot your name..? Babe, that'd be crazy, ah.." His face would redden a bit as he tried his very best to breeze past the topic.
Temari no Sabaku ۶ৎ
During the first few years of your relationship, Temari would absolutely revere the thought of using a nickname for you, it was like an insult to her very character that you would even suggest such a thing. But in the years that would follow, she became a little more comfortable with the concept, and would sometimes drop in little "dear"s and "sweetheart"s on the rare occasion. Other than that, I doubt she'd be all that fond of the concept, she's probably the type to cringe when she hears couples calling each other really sappy nicknames, tells you about it when she gets home and takes a long moment to let out her emotions on how gross she found it all.
• "Hey, Y/N, do you mind cooking tonight? I just had the worst day today..." She'd come behind you and hug you at the waist, sighing deeply as she leant her chin on your head.
• Temari would sit down next to you on the stone floor "Dear? What's wrong..?" She'd whisper softly, taking the time to check on you as you curled into yourself.
• "Dear! Come downstairs, will you?!" Is something she'd often call out when the two of you had guests over for dinner.
Jiraiya ᢉ𐭩 ᩚ
Now, I know this is the third casual character but let's get into it. Jiraiya is definitely one to use nicknames like "babe", "baby" or "sweetheart" (you can see where Naruto gets his moves from). These nicknames don't have any specific origin, I feel like he might have been trying to pick you up at the earlier stage of your relationship and the names just stuck, you didn't seem to have a problem with them at all so he just kept on using them! Tsunade finds it rather crass that Jiraiya would call his lover of so many years by the same nicknames he uses on women he passes by in the street, but he just rolls his eyes and says she lacks taste.
• Leaping out of bed in the morning, he'd run to you with such haste you'd think someone died "Morning, babe, sorry, I have to go!!" A very common line for a man who often forgets his missions until the last minute.
• Whenever you'd try to get out of bed in the morning after a long night, he'd grumble and pull you closer, like some kind of needy kid "Come on, baby, just five more minutes, please? I'll throw in something nice if you stay" The wink which followed received a mighty wake up slap for the man.
• In the event where he would take a bet with Tsunade too far, ends up way too drunk and you have to take him home, he would try to pick you up all over again "H-Heyy, sweetheart, how's your night going?" You ended up dragging him all the way back home. Honestly, sometimes you doubt the legitimacy of him being one of the three legendary sannin.
Tsunade ᜊ̆ ̆ ᶻ ᶻ ᶻ
This woman absolutely HATES the idea of calling you cute little nicknames like "sweety pie" or "honeybun", you're not a child, you don't need to be babied like that. In a way, she's like Werner Herzog when asked about if he spoke French, it would take a rasengan to the head for her to even consider calling you something like that. Although, if you were to put a rasengan to her head (or just beg her for hours on end) and she did in fact cave, I think she'd call you "lover", it just makes sense.
• "Y/N, do you mind passing me those documents? On the top left, yes" Whenever you help her out while she works, you can't help but admire her perseverance, she's so beautiful when she works.
• Sitting with Tsunade and getting drunk with her might be one of the most legendary experiences to ever happen to you, this is something you'd gloat to your friends about later. "What's got your attention- *hic* -lover?" That alone would leave you on a high for the next week.
• "Ugh, Y/N..." She'd sigh after a long day at work "Let's go home, I'm sick of this place".
Orochimaru ஐ୧‧₊˚
I know this may seem obvious at this point but I'll just say it anyways, during his little pre boruto fiasco, I think he'd use more dehumanising nicknames like "pet", but after that, that nickname was completely dropped, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. Before or after the fiasco, this man is a chronic user of the nickname "dear" he uses it with you constantly, hell, he'll use it with anyone he's close with, I really doubt he cares about the specifics of it all. In boruto (post naruto) setting, I think a favourite of his would be "darling", something similar to dear but more endearing and personal just to prove the point that you are in fact his lover.
• Whenever Orochimaru does work in the lab, you often feel more like an assistant rather than a partner, considering all you really do is pass him notes and concoctions he's used in the past "My dear, would you mind passing me the documents on the resurrection jutsu? They're right beside you" Of course, watching him work was nothing short of a blessing but you felt a bit disconnected.
• It was almost impossible to do anything during the night time when living with him, as he often never slept and if he did, it was always very easy to wake him up, and thus when moving to go to the bathroom at night, a cold hand grasps at you "Y/N? Where are you going..?" His tired voice sounded kinda cute to you.
• In the evening, you'd taken the time to brew tea for the both of you, engaging in polite conversation as the two of you sat outside, at this point he had barely used a single nickname with you, "Ah, about that, darling, I-" before he could finish his sentence you had to take a spit take, which only left him very slightly (meaning extremely) repulsed.
Thankyou so much for reading!! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ
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── .✦ synopsis ; you're a beloved disciple of his, more dear than most
orochimaru ♡
── .✦ content ; orochi uses his long tongue on you, pussy eating, implied edging, tongue fucking
sickly white skin against yours with his hands heavy on your inner thighs, forcing you to allow his head in between. vulnerable, naked, and sweaty. stripped of everything your body once wore. the first and only time orochimaru willingly fell to his knees was to get in between your legs. you shivered against the smooth flesh of the drag of his fat tongue over your clit with heavy huffs of air leaving your mouth.
orochimaru was mean. slobbering all over your already slick cunt, biting into your stinging skin covered in the shapes of his teeth marks, sharp canines leaving you with deep dents. your cunt ached with the denial of release for the past hour. watching you suffer in seek of sexual pleasure made his heart skip a beat, soft hiccups and the sight of your tears reaching straight down to the cock hidden in his pants. you cried and whimpered, your hips thrusting upwards in a needy beg for release. your slick had completely drenched every layer of fabric beneath you. your nails practically ripped claw marks into the thin sheets of his chamber bed. his deep chuckle made your stomach drop and your heart beat out of your chest. his snake-like pupils narrowed in pure excitement, invigorated at your sweet calls. as dangerous as he was, he made your head pleasantly spin, hooking you in with nightly pleasure.
all too sudden— with a nasty squelch, the scary length of his tongue pushed through your leaking ring of muscles. you choked in surprise, sucking in air as your back lifted off the flat of his bed. it was sudden. the string that held you together snapping within seconds. in a fit of pleasure, the respect and restraint you were expected to hold for him had escaped through the window in the depths of the forest, black strands of the softest hair wrapping around the curves of your fingers.
he gave you not even a single flinch as your nails hit his scalp and your walls clung to his wriggling tongue, wrapping around him with all of its might.
"m—my apologies.. lord orochimaru.." you stuttered. yet not in fear. his only response was silence. his tongue failed to come to a stop in your gooey walls, dragging himself against the bumpiness of your insides. his smile was wide, and his eyes trained onto your figure like predator to its prey, snake to a mouse. the relentless push of his tongue left a shake in your legs. the lack of furniture in the large room created the loud echoes of your trembling whines followed by the disgusting sloshes of the pressure of his wet tongue against your messy cunt.
you mindlessly babbled as the tip of his tongue circled against the dip of your cervix, a loud call of his name escaping your strained throat. your thighs attempted to squeeze around his head despite the strength of his hands holding them still, drool drizzling down your cheek at the overstimulating feeling of your second orgasm. it was impossible to catch a break and ground yourself for even just a moment with the mind numbing depth of his tongue in your exhausted cunt. weak hands pushed at his head, tired from both the constant teasing and the overwhelming release.
" 'ts too much.." you cried, body convulsing in sensitivity. his eyes narrowed at you and with a malicious smirk, he reeled his tongue back to speak.
"isn't this what you wanted?" he reminded you mischievously with a devilish wiggle of his oral organ. "a couple more will be just fine?"
tw: huge size difference, he's highkey tsundere-ish, mind-fucked, implied possessiveness, highkey hentai-y written, mentions of creampie, mentions of ahegao, choking, overstimulation, aftercare, spanking, degradation, etc.
thinking about long haired men who are menacingly tall and grumpy-looking as hell but actually is a very swooned person over you and would pretty much bury someone else for you. Long haired men with broad shoulder, dominant posture, greek god physique, and those massive—massive hands that could cover your entire neck in just one grip. Long haired men who's hair would be all over your figure when untied—the second he gets you beneath his heavy weight. Rustling like crazy as he pound those sweet, pornographic-worthy pussy with his monster sized cock. Colossal enough that it makes you felt like you had a rock imprinted into your stomach. He's such a massive tank that it sends your entire frame into an absolute state of tremor the moment he's done with you. Long haired men whose hand wrapped tightly around your neck whenever he doggied the fuck out of you, driving your entire brain cells into a drowning state of overstimulation. Long haired men who snickered in amusement as he stare over your face—whose too brain-fucked to even care about his presence anymore. Tongue out and drooling, eyes pinning at the back of your head, fingers holding onto the messy, cum & squirt lube-covered bedsheets, thighs breaking beneath his frame. And before you know it, a heavy hand went down to cruelly spank your ass as he purred; "nasty little bitch." Long haired men who would fawn over the drip of sweats descending from your skin, starting from your bare part to the most intimate ones—before he began to pick up his pace once more like a restless dog in heat as his skin and yours touched against each other's. Creating a lewd, sticky sound. And trust me that by the end of this—he'll make sure he has rightfully creampied your stomach to the brim just like what you were always meant for him.
Bonus (aftercare): Long haired men who would bath you in a warm, and cozy water, letting you run through your fingers over his thick scalp whilst he gently scrub the soap across your skin. Long haired men who would binge-watch movies together with you after every ruthless sex, asking if you could brush his hair thoroughly in between. Long haired men who would be all stiff but silently joyful when you went to braid his long hair, or styled it into a ponytail or a bun. Long haired men who would gave u long, and slow kisses against your skin as a proof of his deep, aggressive love that would never need a second verification for him to expressed it.
𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: act of using substances prior to or during sexual acts
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑: Orochimaru (Naruto/Boruto)
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Mitsuki is a really sweet kid that you teach as a part of your homeroom class (even if he's a bit strange or aloof sometimes), and this year, you've been tasked with visiting your students' homes to discuss their academic progress and know more about them. Though, one particular parent wants to know more about you...
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: continuting a really late kintober! alcohol (therefore dubcon), snake-biting, slightly incorrect use of Orochimaru's snakes, fingering, edging, cock-drunk, no protection, drugged, I feel like Orochimaru could have both genitals at will, technically, but he'll have a dick here...
Parent teacher home visits are usually predictable things. Polite smiles stretched thin over concern about grades and friend groups. You are new to the academy, but you've done it a few times today to not get too nervous.
This one is different.
You stand at the edge of a secluded compound that does not resemble any of the other homes on your list. The path leading up to it is quiet in a way that feels curated, as though even the insects have been instructed not to intrude. The architecture is elegant yet severe, all clean lines and shadowed corners, traditional elements softened by modern precision. There is nothing overtly sinister about it, and yet your pulse refuses to settle.
You remind yourself that he has retired. That he has been pardoned. That he has contributed research, stability, cooperation. That this is no longer the era of whispered war stories and forbidden experiments.
Still, the name sits heavy in your throat.
Orochimaru.
You lift your hand and knock. The sound echoes more than it should.
For a moment, there is only silence. Not the awkward kind, but the deliberate kind, as if the house itself is considering you. You become acutely aware of the folder in your hands labeled with Mitsuki’s name, of the neat bullet points you prepared regarding his academic excellence and his curious social detachment. You are early by perhaps ten minutes. You debate fleeing and returning precisely on time.
The door opens before you can entertain the thought further.
He stands framed in the doorway with a composure so complete it almost feels rehearsed, though nothing about him seems strained. His presence is quiet and immovable, like still water with unknown depth. He is dressed simply, robes falling in pale, fluid lines that soften his tall, slender frame. His skin is luminous in the low light, almost porcelain in its smoothness, and his features are refined in a way that makes it difficult to assign him to anything so narrow as handsome or beautiful. He is both, and neither, and something else besides.
His eyes settle on you.
Golden. Slitted. Unblinking for a fraction too long that its slightly unsettling.
And yet his expression is gentle.
“You must be Mitsuki’s homeroom teacher,” he says, tilting his head slightly. His voice is velvety you feel as though you could listen to it for hours. It carries warmth, even kindness, but there is an undercurrent beneath it that you cannot quite place. Something analytical. Something that feels as though you are being studied even as you are being welcomed. With no ill intent, of course.
You realise you have not answered.
“Yes. I am. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” you reply, mentally scolding yourself for how tight your voice sounds.
“Of course,” he says smoothly. “Please, do come in. You are a little early, but I do not mind. Punctuality is… refreshing.”
He steps aside with a fluid grace that feels almost theatrical in its restraint. As you cross the threshold, you notice the scent first. A subtle blend of dried herbs and something clean, neutral, almost medicinal but softened into comfort. It is pleasant, grounding in a way that unsettles you further because it contradicts every warning story you have ever heard.
The interior is immaculate. Minimalist without feeling empty. Shelves lined with books and carefully labeled containers. Plants with their leaves glossy and healthy. There is no clutter.
He closes the door gently behind you.
“Please,” he gestures toward a seating area, elegant yet understated. “Make yourself comfortable.”
You sit, careful, conscious of your posture. He takes the seat opposite you, folding himself with effortless poise. He rests his hands loosely in his lap and regards you with polite attentiveness.
“I trust Mitsuki has not caused you any… difficulties,” he says, the faintest curve touching his lips.
You blink, gathering your professionalism. “Not at all. He is exceptionally intelligent. One of the strongest students academically. I did want to discuss his social integration, however. He participates, but he seems… observant. Reserved.”
“Ah,” Orochimaru hums softly, as though you have confirmed a hypothesis. “He has always been inclined toward observation. Curiosity is a trait I encouraged.”
There is pride in his tone, but not boastful.
As he speaks, you cannot help noticing the symmetry of his face, the sharpness of his jaw softened by the way he tilts his head when listening. He maintains eye contact without wavering, and it should feel respectful, but instead it feels like standing beneath a microscope. You are acutely aware of your breathing, the way your fingers press against the folder in your lap.
“You seem nervous,” he observes lightly, not accusatory, simply factual.
Your heart stutters. “I… I meet many parents. This setting is just unfamiliar.”
His smile deepens by a fraction. It does not reach his eyes, though it is not cold. Merely knowing.
“That is understandable,” he replies. “My past reputation tends to precede me. I assure you, I have no interest in revisiting it. My priorities are considerably more domestic these days.”
The way he says domestic is almost amusing, as though he is testing the word for flavor.
You swallow. “I appreciate that.”
“And I appreciate your dedication,” he continues, voice softening further, a small smile on his face. “To visit each student personally speaks to your commitment. Mitsuki benefits from attentive guidance.”
The compliment is delivered with such polished sincerity that it almost disarms you completely. Almost.
There is a sense that he is enjoying this exchange in a way you cannot fully decipher.
He leans back slightly, elegant and at ease.
“Now,” he says smoothly, “please. Tell me everything you have observed about my son.” And as you begin to speak, you cannot shake the distinct sensation that you are the one being evaluated.
You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax into the chair, the folder balanced neatly on your lap.
The discussion about Mitsuki flows smoothly at first. You describe his studies, how diligent he is, the way he approaches problems logically, always precise, always polite. You mention how socially he’s a little aloof, how he often observes rather than participates, and Orochimaru listens with an expression that is polite, warm, yet unnervingly intent. Every so often, his smile flickers as though he’s storing away every little detail you mention, filing it with perfect memory.
You bring up the cafeteria incident almost casually. “He, um… once tried to swallow a boiled egg whole,” you say, unsure whether to laugh or frown, picturing the bewildered cafeteria staff. “He said… he just wanted to see if he could.”
Orochimaru tilts his head slightly, still smiling. “Ah,” he murmurs, voice smooth, each word deliberate. “Yes, a fascinating experiment in—table manners and the practicalities of human consumption. One must ensure proper mastication; the esophagus is not so forgiving.” His tone is light, almost teasing, but the precision in his observation is clinical, almost like a scientist discussing a rare specimen.
You pause, the words hanging between you. It is an awkward silence, punctuated only by the subtle creak of the chair as he leans back slightly. You clear your throat, unsure where to look, feeling the gentle weight of his scrutiny without it being oppressive.
Gradually, your gaze drifts around the room. The space is intimate, functional yet elegant. Dark oak furniture gives it a grounded warmth, the kind of polished wood that feels almost reassuring. Shelves line the walls, neat and deliberate, and then you notice them—rows upon rows of bottles. Some are familiar, labeled for drinking, their contents amber and clear, glinting in the soft light. Others are medicinal, their labels precise and clinical. And a few are unlabeled, small, curious vials that seem to hum with unknown potential. Your eyes linger, drawn in despite yourself.
Orochimaru follows your gaze and smiles, noticing your interest. “Ah,” he says softly, as if reading your thoughts, “you’ve seen my collection. Each bottle serves a purpose. Some are for study, some for taste, some for experimental application. The ethanol content varies precisely, the pH controlled. Medicinal extractions require exact ratios — some are for ingestion, some for topical observation, and a few remain untested, pending evaluation of physiological effects.” His voice is calm, almost scholarly, the way one might discuss chemical reactions rather than beverages.
You feel your cheeks heating, realizing you’ve been staring longer than polite, and the blush spreads fast across your face. Your words come out in a stuttered, embarrassed jumble. “I… I, um… I enjoy… trying different drinks… for research purposes,” you manage, the rationalisation barely convincing even to yourself.
Orochimaru’s smile deepens, subtle amusement in his eyes. He rises from his chair, movements fluid, precise. “Please, then,” he says softly, gesturing toward the seat across from him, “let me offer you some tea.”
You hesitate, unsure if he means just tea. There is a softness to his tone, a gentle insistence, but still something in his eyes that makes your stomach twist.
He tilts his head, expression innocent, the faintest playful lift to his smile. “Or perhaps… a drink?”
Your breath catches. Your cheeks flare even hotter, and you can feel yourself fumbling the words. Finally, you let out a soft, embarrassed sigh, nodding. “Yes… of course. Thank you.”
The tension in the room shifts slightly, warm and charged, leaving you acutely aware of the space, of the dark wood, of the neatly lined bottles, and of the impossibly calm, impossibly composed man standing before you, smiling. Because just a drink or two wouldn't hurt.
The tea — or perhaps what you now think of as “a drink”— slides down a little too easily. You are careful at first, pretending to sip slowly. But the warmth spreads faster than you expect, and soon your words are more… free.
You find yourself talking about Mitsuki in ways you hadn’t intended. Little anecdotes tumble out, loose and giggling, the sentences bending over each other, messy but affectionate. “I mean, he really does try, you know? Like, he tried to eat a whole boiled egg at lunch one time. Whole! Like a—like a snake!” You laugh at your own description, the sound too loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Can you imagine? Just stuffing it and—oh gosh, the staff looked mortified!”
Orochimaru doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t comment on the absurdity or the potential danger of swallowing a hard-boiled egg whole. Instead, he watches. He tilts his head slightly, one hand pressed lightly against his temple, the other resting on the arm of his chair. His smile is soft, almost amused, but utterly still, impossible to read. He doesn’t sip from his own cup—or perhaps he does, but if he does it leaves no trace, no warmth, no reaction. He wouldn’t get drunk even if he tried. You know, somewhere in your tipsy ramble, that it’s impossible for him to be affected. He has altered himself, genetically, perfected himself to a degree you cannot even comprehend. And yet… watching you, he leans in the faintest fraction, eyes glimmering with something closer to delight than amusement.
“Quite the observation,” he murmurs quietly, and you almost spill your drink laughing. “Mitsuki’s table manners leave room for… experimentation.”
You tilt your head back, letting out a hiccupy chuckle. “Experimentation! Ha! That’s exactly it!” You wave your hands like conducting some invisible orchestra, your cup wobbling dangerously. “He—oh, he’s brilliant. Totally brilliant, but socially… ahhh, not quite there, y’know?” You laugh again, louder this time, and accidentally slam the cup down harder than intended, the liquid sloshing up the sides.
Orochimaru leans forward, voice smooth, measured, yet a touch amused. “You are rather animated when you are intoxicated,” he says softly, letting the words hang in the air like velvet. “The alcohol has affected you rather… pleasantly.”
You nearly tip the bottle trying to giggle at that. You clutch it with both hands, wobbling slightly in your chair, face burning a deep pink. “P-pleasantly? Me?!” You laugh, then hiccup again, swaying a little, cheeks still hot. “Oh my gosh, you’re… you’re too kind!”
He tilts his head again, those impossibly calm eyes watching you. “Perhaps… you should not drink any more.” The suggestion is gentle, almost casual.
You blink, tipsy enough that your grin falters for a second, the warmth spreading into a mix of embarrassment and relief. “Yeah… yeah, probably a good idea,” you murmur, setting the cup down more carefully this time, cheeks still flushed, stomach fluttering from the drink.
"Perhaps you should also go home, Miss, or you may come to some... regretable actions." You hiccup, almost offended and embarrassed.
"Regretable? I've done many regrettable things already." You mumble and stare down at the empty porceiln cup, "This being some of the less dire things..."
"Oh?" Orochimaru set the bottle where you couldn't reach it and leaned over, much more interested. "Those being?"
You laugh at yourself, tracing a finger carefully around the rim of your empty cup, "I regret ... wasting my time on blind dates. And clumsy, obnoxious men!"
You dissolve into giggles as his eyes widen ever so slightly, "And I also regret wearing a jacket this evening."
You fumble with the buttons of your jacket, unable to take it off without tugging at your blouse underneath, "Because... It is far too warm for a jacket, all of a sudden —"
The very edge of your bra peeks out as your top few buttons come undone. Orochimaru barely shifts, "Allow me, if it is difficult."
"It's — its quite alright..." You begin to say, only to hear a very slight hissing beside you, sliding up your legs, tummy then settling between your cleavage. You open your mouth to shriek in surprise but quickly enough:
"Please do not be alarmed."
You immediately shut up, resorting to small trembling motions instead, eyes flickering between Orochimaru and the snake upon your skin, stroking up and down the cotton of your blouse.
Orochimaru leans on the table with one hand, tall, impossibly still, the other lifting a tiny, colorless vial with deliberate care. His movements are calm, measured, yet every detail—every glint of the dim light against his pale skin, every slow tilt of his head—feels like it’s designed to make you ache and shiver in anticipation. He smiles, the eerie calm of him sending chills down your spine, lips curling just slightly as he places the vial carefully on the table between you.
“I apologise,” he murmurs, each word soft but deliberate, his chair scraping barely at all as he approaches. “I couldn’t resist. You are far too interesting… too tempting… to study.” His eyes glint faintly in the dim light, unnerving, almost hungry, though his expression remains polite, even gentle.
The snake slithers again, brushing along the curve of your waist. Your body reacts without permission—heat spreading, fingers gripping the cotton of your blouse, dragging along the fabric in automatic, trembling motions. You open your mouth to protest, to demand he stop, but the words catch in your throat, leaving nothing but soft, shaky breaths.
Your fingers graze a snake's body — and then the hiss of others fills the room. Shadows in the dim light twist, and more snakes appear from places you didn’t even notice.
You freeze entirely, chest heaving, staring at him with wide eyes, cheeks burning as the heat between your thighs twists and folds in on itself. You are trapped—bound lightly but completely, with his snakes everywhere, eyes flickering with his calm, unnervingly precise observation.
“Staying calm is better, Miss,” he murmurs, voice hypnotic and smooth. He hooks a finger into the thin fabric of your bra, tugging it down off your breasts to expose them. A snake comes up and gently bites the nipple, enticing a moan from you. A sound you didn't even know you could make.
He smiles, slowly rubbing his thumb over the curve of your breast. “Every reaction is… fascinating.”
You can only bite your lip, trembling, hands hovering over the constraining coils around your wrists, the room spinning just slightly as you feel the effects of whatever he slipped into your cup intensify.
"Would you like some more?" He muses, holding and squeezing your jaw open. You fumble with sounds of useless struggle for a moment as he tips the rest of the vial down your throat and your vision blurs. Your mouth can't hold it all and it spills down your lips, down your neck in a thin stream.
He hums before trailing it down with a finger, down your neck, chest before his slender, white fingers landed on your waistband.
"Please forgive me, for ruining your clothes." He digs into the elastic of your waistband, ripping it down your hip until your dress pants fall either side of your thighs in two parts. A snake slithers around your leg, tugging off your underwear, leaving your throbbing slit exposed to the cool air.
"I didn't realise what a... mess... you could make," He slowly dips the tips of his fingers between your folds, gently rubbing up and down, missing your clit until it began to ache. Your back arches off the chair, only tightening the restraints. "Tell me, Miss, how does it feel."
You buckle forwards, head into his body, inhaling in his scent. He smells dizzingly good. The body of the snake throbs against your folds, his slender, nimble fingers flicking at your clit.
"A-AH —!" You can't help it anymore, body numb, unable to struggle from the drugs. He's amused, the sound in the rooom shifting from the soft rustle of the fabric to the wet, lewd squelch of his long fingers burred deep in your dripping cunt. Almost gouging into you, casually, his knuckles nudging your puffy clit as you stretch around them.
Every time he pulls his fingers all the way out, there's a lewd, wet pop that makes you blush, "You can hear, it too, no? Isn't it fascinating —" He stops mid-sentences, shoving the two dingers back in, right up against that gummy spot inside you, making your vision go white and tears prick at your eyes. " — how beautiful you look? While sounding so crude and disgusting?"
"O—Orochimaru-sa-"
"If it is not a moan, I'm not interested in what you have to say, Miss," He smiles, leaning over, face close to yours that you get chills, darkness casting over his face.
He twists his fingers inside you, letting a snake come up and bite your nipples, almost drawing blood. The snakes don't stay still; scales rasping against your sensitive folds, sliding between your slit and mixing with the friction of his fingers.
Its not enough. You're in tears, it's not enough...
He watched the frantic twitching of your thighs with clinical fascination. You're going to finish, going to cum if he keeps up but —
He withdraws his fingers with an agonising, fluid slowness, leaving you with a lewd, wet pop. They pull with long, glistening strings of your own slick.
You groan, actually mewling and begging in restless breaths for this captor to give you some sort of release.
Between your legs, you are a disaster, a fucking embarrassing disaster; your slit is swollen a dark, angry red, pouting open and leaking a steady, drip of cream that spatters onto the already-soaked upholstery. The air hitting your exposed cunt, fresh torture, making your clit throb with a dull, heavy heat.
"Look at the state of you," he murmurs, his voice a soothing, terrifyingly kind caress. He lifts his hand, the one slicked to the wrist in your juices, and moves it with elegant precision. He doesn't touch you again; instead, he simply holds his fingers near your face, tracing your slick lips with them. "Sopping wet, shaking like a common animal, and utterly ruined. It’s quite a beautiful transformation, wouldn't you agree?"
He leans in, strength deceptive as he hooks his arms under your knees, around your waist and slides you onto the table you'd just sat at. The sudden shift in gravity sneds the world spinning into shimmering shadows; the aphrodisiac in your blood turns the vertigo into a sickeningly sweet rush, making your head loll helplessly against his shoulder.
He doesn't need to bind you this time; the drug has turned your bones to lead and your mind to mush. He casually gestures, and a thick, mottled serpent glides up the leg of the table, coiling firmly around your left wrist and pinning it flat against the dark oak, beside your head with a thud. Another snake, smaller and more agile, settles over your right breast, its weight a heavy, pulsing pressure that makes your nipple ache and swell as the reptile’s scales rasp over it. You are laid out, your legs falling open in a wide, shameful V, exposing the dripping wreck of your pussy to his clinical, mused gaze.
The sensation of being stretched, even that tiny bit, is enough to make your hips buck off the table, with a pathetic, broken moan. He keeps only the tip buried inside you. He watches you writhe, your head thrashing against the table as the drug makes your head spin and throb.
"There is no need to rush," he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating hum that seems to echo inside your own chest. He begins to move, his pace agonizingly steady. "Please don't move so much. You will tire yourself out."
Yopu slow, gulping back saliva pooling in your mouth. Each thrust is deep and deliberate, bottoming out against your cervix with a dull, wet thud that makes your vision blur. Your mind's drowning in the chemical heat of the drug.
He watches your drooling face, his golden eyes tracking the way your features twist in a mask of drugged-out ecstasy. With a calm, eerie precision, he withdraws two fingers from where he had been bracing himself against your hip. They are dripping, slicked to the knuckle with the translucent cream your pussy is dripping around his cock. He simply presses them against your lips, prying your mouth open. He hooks them over your tongue, pulling down slightly to stretch your jaw.
You can’t help it. Between the drug and the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you, you lose control of your own body. You begin to drool, a thick, silver string of saliva mixing with the juices on his fingers and trailing down your chin in a lewd, messy line. He watches the liquid spill over his pale skin with a look of quiet, scientific satisfaction.
The snakes hiss around you. The one coiled around your breast tightens, its scales rasping more harshly against your swollen nipple, while the one on your wrist keeps you pinned. You are a complete wreck— limbs heavy, pussy raw around his slow, punishing cock, your mouth full of his fingers as you choke on your own desperate whimpers.
Each thrust a deep, blunt pressure that made your insides spasm in a desperately. Until it hit hard enough, a wet thud against your guts that made you cum. Your vision shattered into white noise as your pussy clamped down on his cock. All you could remember, really. In that moment of total ruin, you felt the hot, pulsing stickiness seep into your womb, until you felt painfully, perfectly stuffed.
Orochimaru stands over you, composed as if he hadn't just spent the last hour methodically ravaging your body. He watches the way your chest heaves, his gaze lingering on the translucent trail of his fluid as it escapes your twitching thighs. With a slow, elegant motion, he reaches down to brush a sweat-dampened lock of hair from your forehead, his own hair perfectly intact.
"I would rather you remember this, Miss," he murmurs, his voice a soothing rasp, nothing more than a musing, "The fact you're still concious is interesting. It would be a shame to lose it. But I doubt you'll forget it."
He leans over, his throbbing cock resting against your thigh as he studies your face with a small, genuine smile, "Right, Miss?"
Please leave suggestions, ask to be on the taglist too if you'd like!
Due to Orochimaru being cold-blooded like a snake, he always finds some excuse to touch you or hold you against him so he can steal your body heat. . .and maybe just because he likes it.
You'll wake up in the middle of the night, feeling his icy chest pressing against your back and his equally cold arms holding you in a vice-like grip so you can't wiggle away from him, going so far as to hiss softly in his sleep if you try.
When he goes off on his own and you're unable to find him for hours, you'll find him resting in a tree, soaking up the sun's rays so as to not bother you while you were busy.
No matter how much he denies it and argues with you that he doesn't need you, doesn't need anyone, his hands always end up finding your own without fail.
//found this in my drafts and decided to post. Not proff read. Slight ooc
"Wait, please!" Your voice finally breaks the heavy silence between you two.
What possessed you to go chasing after them at 3 am, you will never know. A simple human like yourself should be safe at home. Countless creatures roam freely in the darkness that shallows all at night.
Yet you are standing her with them with.
"Why did you fol-" Before they finish their sentence you cut them off by cupping their face with your hands.
"You don't get to stumble into my home, say you can't be by my side, and then just leave!" Your voices raises like a crack of lighting in the distance.
"Do you love so much you thought would be easier?! Or is hate?"
They try to pull away from you, but your hands won't let go. With a deep breath, you take a step closer.
"Do you love me?" You repeat.
For a berif moment their shoulders loosen and their gaze softens at you.
