Sitting in the ostentatious and overly-decorated dining lounge of the malls anyone with the last name Uchiha like to frequent, Sakura wonders at what point in her life she fell so low.
“Not him.” She hears a snarky voice say.
Cutting Sasuke a glare, Sakura huffs, “What’s wrong with him?”
Meeting her eyes and letting all his judgement radiate in his eyes, he questions, “Are you actually asking me that?”
Sakura sulks.
“No. The saggy balls would probably make me gag.”
On a random Sunday, the Uchiha triad of pain-in-her-ass’s, had decided to drag her to a place that’s both out of her league and her paycheck. Why she had to come is beyond her. While Itachi and Shisui eat away at their steaks, medium rare thank you very much, she and Sasuke have resorted to a game of: Who will be Sakura’s next lay?
Unfortunately, due to recent circ*mstances of getting broken up with and falling into the mindset that everyone thinks she’s hideous, Sakura hasn’t exactly fed her kitty recently and she is feeling it .
Sakura is a hot, bothered and according to her GBF No.2 ‘sexy piece of ass’ and she is astoundingly pent up from her residency and generally stressful life. Fortunately for her, sex purges that tension. Unfortunately for her she’s hit the worst dry patch of her life and it’s terribly hard on her temperament (and not the good hard).
So, the new low? Analysing which of these rich, widowed assholes is suitable enough that she doesn’t think his org*sm (if old men even can cum) would send him to an accurately-timed grave.
Sasuke is a good reality check.
“Gay.”
“What? Nothing about him is gay and he could, you know, swing both ways?” She retorts, in denial.
Sasuke raises his brows, “Trust me Sakura. I can tell.”
Sakura kind of doubts that because it took him a pathetically long time to realise that no, Naruto didn’t still have a crush on Sakura, and that yes, he is pining for Sasuke but she allows him to have his moment.
Feeling rather defeated, Sakura steals a crisp frite from Itachi’s plate. As she chews on the annoyingly and salty deliciousness she thinks, f*ck the rich , because of course this is the type of mall that wouldn’t dirty themselves by referring to the potatoy-goodness as anything other than the french term. They live in the states for the love of God.
“Sakura, sweetie,” Shisui interrupts, “Why are you looking for your next conquest here? Not only are you better, prettier and significantly younger than most of them, you’re also looking for a quick f*ck, not a sugar daddy.” He explains, mouth full with steak.
Steak, meat, meat, dick, dick… She needs help.
Sasuke snorts, “Why would she need a sugar daddy when I exist?” he rhetorically asks, as sardonic as always. Sakura makes it a point to very slowly and very precisely step on his toes with her stiletto heel that Sasuke didn’t buy for her.
Itachi did.
“What are rich friends for, if not paying for their poor friends' needs?” she asks, innocently and fluttering her lashes.
“Yes, I love donating to charity.” and he reaches out to pinch her nose.
Sakura loves Sasuke with every bone in her body but she wouldn’t be opposed to him being put in a coma for a few months, for his mothers sanity, if anything else.
Startling her from her wishes of maiming, a smooth voice cuts in, “What about him?”
Looking to where Itachi is pointing she can’t help but let out a cutesy giggle, “Oh, Itachi— hon, no.”
Furrowing his brows, he pouts (not that he’s aware of doing so), “What’s wrong with him? He looks less haggard than most of the senior citizens you’ve been picking out? In fact, he actually looks in your age range.”
“And that’s the problem.”
Itachi’s mouth just droops a little, open in question.
Examining his cuticles, Sasuke takes it upon himself to answer for her, “Because Sakura likes them older. Typically, she doesn’t stoop as low as pensioner old, but she’s desperate. She likes her men seasoned, experienced and financially independent where they don’t f*ck her and as a part of the aftercare wonder if she can spot their rent for the month. In their mother’s basem*nt.”
Itachi and Shisui both look aghast at the further Sasuke carries on just casually divesting her very private (and horrifyingly humiliating personal information). Sakura thinks he doesn’t understand the concept of TMI.
Although, glancing over at him in distaste and seeing the poorly-hidden smirk on his face she thinks he understands it very well, he just doesn’t give a f*ck. dickhe*d.
“Any- ways , what Sasuke meant to explain is that while the guy you pointed out is pretty and has a normal amount of wrinkles and all, he’s a little too young for what I like.” She defends attempting to save even a shred of her dignity.
She reminisces on that time Itachi and Obito had carried her home, sh*t-faced and sobbing at 5AM and revises that maybe she never had any.
She’s broken from her thoughts by a loud call of, “Hey guys!” and the personification of accidentally turning your brightness the full way up in the middle of the night.
Naruto walks behind Sakura and gives her a sweet kiss on the apple of her cheek as a specialised greeting, before ungracefully collapsing on the chair next to Sasuke.
“Hey, babe.” He says and gives Sasuke his own cheek kiss and Sakura can’t help the fond smile as Sasuke blushes and grumbles about PDA.
If she didn’t love how happiness looks on her boys so much she’d undoubtedly tell them to f*ck off and go be affectionate somewhere else until after she gets f*cked within an inch of her life.
She chooses to be the better person today. Maybe the morning pilates that she follows on youtube is healing her.
Naruto greets the other two then gives them all a blinding grin, “Whatcha talkin’ about?”
Sasuke grips Naruto’s pinky under the table in a stunted sign of affection.
“Sakura needs to get laid.”
“I need to get laid.” She agrees, nodding.
Naruto strokes his chin and nods like they said the most mundane thing in the world. To be fair to him, it is on the more normal point of the spectrum for them.
“...I see, I see.”
Naruto tilts his head, “Why don’t you just call an old fling?”
Which, yeah, is a fair question but Sakura needs to start afresh, she needs to try something new, she needs to—
“Since that major asshole who we beat up dumped her, she’s feeling insecure and thinks all her old hookups find her repulsive.” Sasuke intervenes, lacking any decorum when it comes to her feelings.
f*cking dickhe*d.
Naruto’s jaw physically drops then, “ What— I mean— f*cking what? Have you seen yourself? Any of those musty potatoes don’t hold a candle to you.” He declares and wow, Sakura loves him so much.
“Aren’t you friends with Genma still?” Who was one of said musty potatoes, goes unsaid.
He shrugs, “Yeah but like, you’re you and he’s just kinda there? Love Gen, he’s great, has amazing weed but compared to you he’s much more musty potato-like.”
Sakura just about resists cackling at how un-rich like Naruto acts. Don’t get her wrong, he was raised in the exact same background Sasuke was raised in but it seems the Uzumaki’s weren’t born with a perpetual wealthy stick up their ass.
The happenstance in which Sakura became their friend went a little like this; Sakura’s Godmother has money . Like Uchiha and Uzumaki money. Does she share any of it? No. Crippling gambling addiction and all, but the point is, she mingles and lives amongst the elites because she is one.
An unassuming day years ago, Sakura had been lingering in the park of one of the rich neighbourhoods. However, this neighbourhood was notably Uchiha owned and Aunt Tsunade had kind of just ditched her in the park to go and meet her own Uchiha friends because, let's be real, the Uchiha are old-money rich and they are law-enforcement so it was perfectly safe. Sakura had been in the gargantuan sandpit when this stroppy and pouting little spiky child her own age had trudged over.
“You’re in my spot!” He yelled, as if she’d murdered his family.
Sakura’s mother taught her from a very young age what the word ‘entitled’ means and Sakura knew from the moment this little black blob had stomped her that he was the definition.
“Well…I was here first and there’s also loads of other spots, so just go there.” she’d replied, just as stubborn.
And the little jerk decided in response to not getting his way for once, to pick up some of the sand and f*cking throw it at her.
Instantly spluttering and brushing the sand off her after his assault, Sakura had met his glare with a scathing one of her own.
In that moment Sakura thought two things: Thank God is didn’t get in my eyes , and, f*ck (word she’s not supposed to know) this kid.
Sakura is at an age where she is exceptionally impressionable and will do and repeat anything she sees and deems interesting at least once. In this moment, with this brat, she recalls a moment her Aunt Tsunade had punched a man for mouthing her off.
Sakura curls her fist, stands up and lunges —
They were inseparable after that.
Naruto had joined the little duo after that, as their missing piece. The unwavering and jolly nature to combat their constant spats.
Unfortunately for them as teens, it also caused a lot of gay yearning that Sakura did not have the patience for.
But it all worked out in the end! Yay!
Not for her though.
She honestly doesn’t get it.
Sakura isn’t looking for a committed relationship. f*ck, she’s not even looking for a committed situationship. She’d just like to have a man who knows his way around a vagin*, isn’t an asshole and preferably, has a little money, to have rambunctious sex with. And even the last option is negotiable. So, Sakura doesn’t understand, the bar she set is in f*cking hell and there’s still no one. She thought men salivated for a no-commitment FWB situation? If so, why do they all keep ending it with her for love ?
Stupid.
Hearing a vague shout, she’s distracted from her internal ire and she looks up to the over-the-top doors and—
Oh my God.
She has found him. The one.
Coming through the doors is, quite possibly, the prettiest man she’s ever met, and Itachi is one of her close friends, so that’s saying something.
The man is tall but not overtly tall, not too tall were the height difference implies something more sinister than she’s comfortable with. He’s tall enough that he could safely hold her against a wall and not falter, and he has the sturdy muscle to match. Under his button up and pressed shirt, Sakura can make out a thick and well-kept body. He’s not too bulky, he’s fit enough where the muscle sits so prettily on him. His face is way too stunning for Sakura to comprehend but he has evident crow’s feet and smile lines that indicate he’s at least a decade older than herself and it gets Sakura feeling hot. But the kicker is his hair , oh lord, his hair. It’s luscious and blonde and kind of a mess but it works so well on this mysterious man. He has bangs that frame his face oh so perfectly and it is everything .
Yes , she decides, he is the one.
“Sasuke.” She states, anticipating elation in her tone.
And he can tell, “Found one?” he asks rather dismissively, presuming it’s another man with a little too many grey hairs. She can tell as Itachi and Shisui also perk up to see who she's spying on.
She slams her hand against Sasuke's chest, overwhelmed and blushing, “Him. Blondie. Twelve o’clock. Chequered button-up.”
Instead of a relief-filled agreement like she expects and instead of even going as far as to incline Sasuke himself would like a taste, she feels as Sasuke’s entire form freezes.
“Oh no, Sakura, no …”
Sakura whips her head around as quick as light, “What?” she hisses.
Sasuke goes to respond but as mentioned, she’s pent up, so she kind of bursts.
“There is nothing, genuinely, nothing bad you can say about this man on a surface level. I mean, f*cking look at him! He’s gorgeous, stunning and even if he’s gay he so f*cking beautiful I will actually go as far as to ask. I need him, Sasuke. So please, Dearest Sasuke, tell me one f*cking thing about him that is bad.” and at this point she’s nearly shaking him by the shoulders in her desperation for a mysterious blonde man.
Sasuke cracks a small smirk, like he’s hiding something from her, like he knows the deepest darkest secrets of mysterious man and he’s not f*cking telling her.
Sasuke slowly takes her hands from his shoulders and brings them together, cradling her smaller hands in his lap, “I’m going to hold your hand as I say this but, actually—”
An irritatingly loud squeal of, “DAD!” , jolts Sasuke out of his dramatics and they both turn to see Naruto run up in front of them.
As she watches Naruto’s form, she sees as he takes-off running in the same direction where mysterious and sexy blonde man came from, oddly enough. She sees him inch closer and closer to the new star of her sexual fantasies and it’s when Naruto doesn’t change directions from him that Sakura feels bile slowly rise.
And it’s when Naruto collides with the mysterious blonde man that Sakura contemplates suicide.
Oh my God, “Oh my God.”
Sexy blonde guy is Naruto’s f*cking dad .
Sakura’s been avoiding Naruto and Sasuke since the unfortunate…revelation the other week.
The only annoying thing, is that to avoid Sasuke, she also has to avoid Itachi and Shisui and Obito and Mikoto and Kakashi and basically everyone else associated with Uchiha because like the inbreds they are, they all kind of move around like one giant entity who are all far too invested in other people's business.
‘Uchiha’s intimidating’, her pert f*cking ass, more like a posse of gossping birds.
She feels a little bad about avoiding Naruto though, the blonde is always so enthusiastic to meet with her. Even when they’d only been apart four hours, he still jumps at the chance to see his Sakura.
It was cuter when she didn’t have a wet dream about his own father.
In Sakura’s defence, she’d never exactly met the guy before.
All Sakura knew was that he was important but it was also kind of hush hush how exactly he was important but it led to him working from home a lot. Although, according to Sasuke he had quit that job two years ago and now stayed home 70% of the time; much to Naruto’s enjoyment.
She also remembers a few years ago, when Naruto mentioned in passing that his parents were getting a divorce. She would've been much more involved in that, had Naruto not been so casual about it. From what Sakura knows, it was an amicable divorce between his parents, that simply came from a mutual understanding that the only love they had for each other was platonic.
Sakura had not done a funny little dance when she remembered that. It’s not like anything was going to come out from her infatuation. She’s just feeling a little horny…and avoiding anyone with too-dark hair and a permanent scowl on their face and Naruto.
Alas, it’s when Sakura’s at her weakest that the Uchiha’s pounce, when she’s just come home from work.
Coming out of her shower, Sakura wraps the fluffy and heated towel tightly around her body and lets out a sigh of utter contentment.
She had just worked a twenty-four hour shift and was just about ready to collapse.
Wiggling her toes at the heated floors Sakura again thanks her past self for punching Sasuke that one fateful day because now she has special Uchiha connections that allow her to live in the nice part of town where they have apartments with heated floors for a ludicrously small price.
The first hundred times the Uchiha family had insisted to essentially pay for Sakura’s everything her and her mother had declined, vehemently, it was just in their nature. However, over time Sakura just learned to accept that, bar Mikoto and Shisui, the standard Uchiha had no sense of emotional maturity and expressed love through their endless wealth.
Walking into the main area of her apartment and scrolling on her phone, she looks up, drops her phone and promptly lets out the most ear-piercing screech known to the human ear.
Spread out in front of her are what she likes the call ‘The Uchiha entourage… and Kakashi’ a bunch of f*cking nuisances who are so bored in their own lives they spend too much time invested in hers. Kakashi is the most normal and even that’s a stretch.
They’re sitting around like they own the place and while, yeah, there’s an aspect of truth to that, they don’t live there.
Keeping her towel in a firm clutch, Sakura yells, “What the f*ck are you all doing here? And why are you all sitting in the dark like f*cking psychopaths?”
Sasuke rolls his eyes, “Element of surprise. Duh.” Oh she’s going to f*cking throttle that self-entitled little dweeb.
“It was my idea!” Shisui chirps, like he’s not boasting about breaking and entering.
With all they could get away with, she thanks the lord that the Uchiha aren’t corrupt and planning political espionage…as far as she’s aware. Madara’s a bit of a loose cannon.
Accepting her fate that they aren’t leaving and are going to ask her invasive questions, Sakura picks up her phone and tosses it at Shisui, “Fine. If you’re staying, order pizza. I'm hungry.” and stalks towards the couch and collapses on it, head in Obito’s lap and feet in Kakashi’s.
Uchiha’s run hot all the time, even if she suspects they are cold-blooded reptiles, they make for great personal space-heaters.
Feeling hands carding through her hair, Sakura settles in for the night. Obito is most definitely her favourite Uchiha (besides Mikoto and Itachi), he’s not too invested in breaching her personal space, he dotes on her like a big brother and he also never told her mother about that drunk time.
There’s distant murmuring behind her before Kakashi turns away from Naruto’s Godfather’s stupid p*rn book and says conversationally, “Minato used to be Obito and I’s boss, you know.”
Sakura’s eyes squint from her smushed position on Obito’s thighs, “Who the f*ck is Minato?”
Obito coughs, “Naruto’s father.”
Sakura tenses and she wonders if she’s fast enough to run to her knives and attack Sasuke before Itachi intervenes.
Understanding that would never work she instead chooses to say, “Sasuke. Die in a hole.”
From his position behind her and discussing very important matters like what toppings on what pizza, “I couldn’t not tell them.” which is such a blatant lie, Sakura actually evaluates if Sasuke knows her at all because she can tell when he’s lying.
Pushing herself upwards, she awkwardly contorts her body to face him, “I once saw as you watched Suigetsu from high school walk backwards, knowing that there was a pothole. You literally just watched and smiled when he fell and fractured his ankle, you lying sociopath.”
Sasuke doesn’t even blink.
f*cking. dickhe*d.
Gently bringing her head down in a placating manner, Obito soothes, “Don’t worry, Sakura. Minato is a single and very attractive man for his age, we understand.”
“Please stop talking.” Sakura groans.
“Total DILF material. You have good taste, Sakura.” Kakashi unhelpfully chimes in.
Nevermind Sasuke, she wonders if she can be quick enough to stab herself.
Like all the elites of each city, the ones of her own all eagerly await the Uchiha Springtime Gala. There’s a designated rich family for each season: Uchiha are spring, Uzumaki are Summer, Senju are Autumn and Hyuuga are Winter. The Uzumaki ones are the best, they are the most fun because the Uzumaki actually know the definition of fun.
The Uchiha ones are okay. The best part of the Uchiha gala’s is the indubitable fact that there’s always some type of drama to spice up the night. One year, Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama had gotten in a verbal lashing that was so hom*oerotic, Senju Tobirama had actually gagged. Another year, Shisui had stumbled in, mussed up and clearly post-org*sm with Neji Hyuuga behind him, blushing and embarrassingly buttoning up his slightly wrinkled white button-up. However, the best year by far was when Fugaku had caught Sasuke giving Naruto a quickie in the wine room— Sakura had actually had a front seat to that one. Good times.
The point is, she expects a night of scandals and uproar and she can’t f*cking wait. The best part is when she and her best-friend, Ino, meet up at the end and gossip over every little second of it like old, crazy cat ladies.
Watching as her, Sasuke and Naruto’s car pulls up to the venue, Sakura can’t help but gape.
Naruto laughs when he sees her expression, “The venue is almost identical to the one from last year. How does this stuff still shock you?”
Reaching over the Sasuke-shaped divider, Sakura pinches Naruto’s thigh, “Forgive me, oh wealthy one, but seeing buildings of this size and elegance is not a weekend-activity for me as I am merely a peasant in comparison to you.”
Sasuke nods along then turns to his boyfriend, “She gets it.”
When Sakura exits the car, she accidentally kicks Sasuke right in the balls.
When Sakura was young and fragile about her socioeconomic status as opposed to literally everyone else, she’d attempt to join one of her friends with an indicating last name as a safety measure. Now that this isn’t her first rodeo, she knows to greet those she knows, then swiftly head for the food and drink stations. The Hors d'oeuvres are absolutely glorious and they still have an entire five-course meal after that.
Sakura is so f*cking thankful she punched Sasuke on that sand-pit.
Leaving the two lovers to dawdle behind her, Sakura enters the glorified castle and can’t help but take a moment to herself to admire the beauty of everything.
She’s appraising the stained glass windows when she hears a high-pitched noise, then tiny, fast click-clacks and she’s being brought into the arms of Mikoto Uchiha, her most favourite Uchiha.
“Oh, Sakura darling . It has been so long since I've last seen you, my dear. You must tell me everything that you’ve been up to.” Mikoto smiles and takes her hand.
Blushing, Sakura accepts the hand and responds, “It’s only been a few months, Mrs Uchiha. Nothing much has changed with me.”
Waving her gloved hand in disregard, Mikoto is the epitome of poise and old-weath elegance.
“Aunt Mikoto, darling. And, nonsense. You’re a resident now and I’ve barely heard a peep of how you’re doing. After the gala you will have to come over for dinner.” and they both know it isn’t a question.
Sakura sighs in resignation, “As long as I won’t trouble you.”
“You’re never a trouble, dearie.” and squeezes Sakura’s hand.
“Now come, you will have to say hello to everyone. Your Godmother is somewhere amongst the crowd and Fugaku has been pestering me about your PhD.” which Sakura highly doubts because Fugaku Uchiha doesn’t pester .
“Of course, Mrs Uch— Aunt Mikoto, I'll go make my rounds now and say hello to everyone. I spy Ino and Shikamaru in the far corner.”
Slowly dislodging herself from Sakura, Mikoto hums before giving her hands another squeeze, “I have truly missed you, darling, I’m holding you to that dinner soon and go see Fugaku when you can. Also, you arrived with Sasuke, correct? Where is he?” and Sakura will always take an opportunity to throw that little dickhe*d under the bus, “Ahh— he and Naruto were just behind me but they probably got… distracted. You know how they are.” and just about contains her snickering.
Mikoto clicks her tongue, “I do indeed.” before giving a fond eye roll and flicking her hands away, “Go, go, before I keep you talking with me for the rest of the night. Enjoy darling, I had extra calamari made as I know it’s your favourite.” Sakura loves Mikoto so much.
“Thank you, Auntie.” and leaves with a small smooch on Mikoto’s cheek.
Turning around she grins manically, time to drink the good wine.
Sakura’s sitting at the ephemeral ‘kids-table’ consisting of her, Naruto, Sasuke, Shikamaru, Ino, Hinata and Shisui, of all people. She’s on her fifth glass and she’s about to go get up to give herself a hefty serving at the many dessert tables. In short, she’s in heaven.
“Okay i’m going in.” She announces.
Ino gives a snort, “And you call me pig? This is, like, your fourth plate forehead.”
Sakura shakes her head nonchalantly, “The only food I eat is crappy microwave meals, takeout and the occasional pre-packaged salad because I'm too lazy to meal-prep when I'm in the hospital. Let me enjoy this, piggy.” and stalks off, eyes already on the target.
As she comes up to the table with an illustrious and delectable selection of mochi, Sakura studies the best ones to try with the same precision she used when she assisted in a surgical ventricular restoration.
It’s as she’s reaching for the prettiest matcha mochi ever that she hears it, “Doctor Sakura Haruno, right?” a terribly attractive voice says.
Turning to the right, Sakura’s eyes widen like saucers when she sees Minato Namikaze, aka Naruto’s dad, aka The Dilf™, aka Sexy and Mysterious blondie from the mall and she stills, frozen and cheeks ablaze with a matcha mochi held between her forefinger and thumb.
And like the master of tact Sakura is, she takes it upon herself to blurt, “Naruto’s dad!” like an utter nimrod.
Dear God, someone shoot her.
Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything at her bumbling like an idiot and just gives a polite nod.
Finally collecting herself, she places the mochi on the plate and gives a very awkward giggle, “Ah, um, sorry. Yeah! That’s me, Sakura. I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Namikaze, nice to meet you.” and before she can do something even more moronic like f*cking curtsy, Minato just shakes his head chuckling.
“Ah, none of that formality. Please, just Minato, any friend of my son’s is a friend of mine.” Minato doesn’t realise she cannot do something idiotic like call him Minato because it makes her body pulse, and not in the Safe for Work area.
Behind Minato, she meets Sasuke’s very amused gaze, and uses any semblance she has to communicate an SOS signal. Sasuke sees it, acknowledges it, then f*cking turns away like the godawful man he is. Nevermind a hole, Sakura is going to hire an entire hit on the dickhe*d.
Realising she’s alone in this, Sakura opens her mouth, about to dismiss herself so she can go to the ladies room and hyperventilate.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Sakura. Naruto talks of you with much pride and fondness.” Minato smiles and Sakura nearly audibly whimpers. It should be illegal for a man to be that attractive.
Sakura grips the cold plate as a way to ground herself.
“Naruto is one of my best-friends and he has a lot of love to give. I’m proud of him, also.” she finishes, giggling, and praying she’s coming across at least a little sane.
Minato unconsciously tilts his head in a manner that is so Naruto, it’s obvious where her blonde friend picked up the habit.
“The thing about my son is that, similar to his mother, he doesn’t really have any sort of filter or impulse control. He also doesn't have volume control. And though he’d never admit it, Sasuke also doesn’t. So very frequently, I either overhear or hear them directly discussing the ins and outs of your life, Sakura.”
The way Minato is speaking, the primal way he’s watching her— she feels like she’s being analysed and observed, like a caged animal. Not in the way little children watch animals in the zoo, but in the way hunters watch every little move of their prey before attacking.
She sees the way his eyes follow her as she bites her lip and, well, isn’t that curious.
If Sakura were any more confident, she may even test that, but she doesn’t.
Attempting to null the tension, Sakura gives a quick glance around the room, looking anywhere but at Minato.
“Well, as you said, that’s Naruto. I just hope anything you’ve heard about me hasn’t been too bad.”
“Oh, of course not. Nothing bad, nothing bad at all.” he replies and the speed at which he said it after herself is abnormal, too hasty. Like he’s waiting for something.
Unsure how to respond, she gives a smile back and tucks a lock of pink behind her ear. Minato’s striking blue eyes follow her every movement, to a T.
He’s so nimble and electric with everything; with his words, with his movements and with his gaze. It sets Sakura’s skin alight.
Feeling her heart palpitating, she feels like she’s close to a heart attack by the proximity. Watching people have heart attacks is a weekly occurrence for Sakura, so she’d like to avoid that, if possible.
Sakura notices when Minato raises his and she assumes he sees someone he recognises. He turns back to meet her own gaze again and she uses every last will and testament in her body to reduce the red hue across her cheeks and neck in any way (it doesn’t work).
“Forgive me, Sakura, but I need to go speak to someone.” She rapidly nods her head in response.
Taking a — what feels like — booming step towards Sakura, Minato leans forward.
His breath smells like expensive red, his bangs brush just above his chin and he’s watching her in a way no man has ever watched her before; she’s going to die . Right here. Right now. Because of the most sexually arousing thing she’s ever experienced.
He’s only 6ft and yet it feels like he’s f*cking towering over her with his aura, my God.
A chill goes through her though, when his hand brushes her fingers in a way that can’t be anything other than intentional. It isn’t slight and it isn’t brief; his fingers purposely press over hers and softly put a little pressure but not enough for it to be considered an actual squeeze.
Searching her gaze, she really hopes he finds something other than the feral and intense arousal, because that’s just another thing to add onto this mildly shameful interaction because of her inability to act like a normal f*cking human. She really hopes she’s not giving him the ‘f*ck-me’ eyes right now.
It seems he finds whatever he was looking for because he smiles that sickeningly vagin*-soaking smile again, “I’ll be seeing you later.” and he takes a step back. Which, thank God for that, because she feels she can actually f*cking breathe now.
“Um— bye.” She says, intelligently.
Starting to walk away, Sakura tries to calm her racing pulse, but halts when she hears a last, soft, call of her name.
Turning back to Mr. Namik— Minato , she blinks her eyes in question.
Grabbing the champagne flute from a waiter’s tray, Minato takes a sip and it feels as if his eyes are reading her soul, heart and mind, “You have the greenest eyes I've ever seen. Doe, like a deer.” and then walks the f*ck away.
Blinking, processing and trying not to melt, Sakura takes a deep and steady breath. Desserts long forgotten, Sakura turns back to her table to take a much needed seat.
She pauses, however, when she sees Sasuke’s entertained eyes and sh*t-eating grin. Giving a very subtle middle finger, Sakura turns away and heads for literally anywhere else.
That dickhe*d, he probably planned this.
Later on, after having an icy conversation with Sasuke about how they’ll discuss what happened after the gala and after filling herself with even more alcohol, Sakura feels a little more human.
Leaving the ladies bathroom, she hopes she didn’t miss Mikoto and Fugaku’s little speech of gratitude. Fugaku acts so unenthusiastic about it as opposed to Mikoto’s zealousness, yet he always drones on and on, it is hilarious to listen to every year.
She’s now drunk enough that every millisecond isn’t spent over-analysing her interaction with Minato but it also means she’s drunk enough that she’s carnally hungry for the man. She only had one sexual encounter since that fateful day and it was so painfully boring and not-sexy, she had wept when she went home and used her fully-charged vibrator up. It’s getting bad.
Hearing the vague sound of clapping, she hurries a little and turns to round the corner before feeling herself slamming into a sturdy body. Letting out a very unattractive, ‘EEK’, two warm hands come to steady her.
Coming back to the present, Sakura looks up to who she crashed into and feels everything vibrate and her face pale, when she sees Minato’s face. Dear God, not again.
“Mr. Namikaze! Oh God, I’m so sorry, are you—” she rambles.
Softly shaking his head, Minato reassures, “Don’t worry, Sakura. No damage done. Also, it’s Minato.”
Nope. Still not happening, so all she does is nod.
Standing here in the echoey hallway, she thinks she can make out the drab voice of Fugaku speaking. Minato is still looking at her, not moving or doing anything and Sakura kind of feels like a blobfish. What the f*ck does she even do right now?
And then, testing the waters, Minato leisurely begins to lightly rub his hands up and down from his grip on her own bare arms. If he doesn’t stop, she may do something atrocious like moan or even worse, org*sm.
Good god, when did she become so pathetically touch-starved.
“You know, Sakura, one of the things Naruto constantly boasted about you was that his genius friend Sakura is a surgical resident and has a PhD. Is it true you graduated early?” He intones.
Sakura lets her mouth run automatically, lest she do something stupid, “Ah, yes. I graduated high school at sixteen.” Minato’s eyes glint at that, with a mix of curiosity and whatever else.
“Hmm,” he hums, “I’d love to pick your brain, Sakura. Walk with me.” and leaving no room for argument starts to guide her away from the banquet hall.
She goes to decline, goes to say they will miss the speech, but it all fizzles away at one look Minato gives her that makes her thighs shake. Whatever, not like she wanted to listen to Fugaku drag on anyway.
He’s only holding her wrist now but the contact is still far too much than she can manage right now.
He picks up a little as they keep walking, markedly working on a faster timescale than everyone else.
It’s when they reach a little brown door, leading to God knows where, that Minato forcefully but not aggressively guides her inside and slams it closed behind them.
He flicks a switch and she stares at the light flickering on to reveal…a closet? It’s not tiny, it’s a little smaller than those annoyingly vast walk-in closets in Sasuke’s home but there’s a table and a few other things stored about.
Swivelling her head to turn to Minato, she goes to wonder what he’s trying to show her, when he quite literally pushes himself against her. His warm and larger form, is completely encompassing hers against the wall they are in and it is so erotic, Sakura is going to cry.
Hey eyes are wide, doe-like, “Mr. Nami-”
He makes a low grumble that shoots straight to her core and lowers his forehead against hers, “Minato” Sakura can feel the curls of his sunlight-hair against her cheeks, “Huh?”.
“Sakura, this is the third time I'm asking you to call me Minato. Please don’t make me ask again.”
Sakura feels like she’s about to combust in arousal and embarrassment.
“Okay.” she whispers.
“Okay…?”
“Okay, Minato.” she amends.
He gives her that dazzling smile again, “Good girl.” and Sakura whimpers.
They are both still at that, Sakura from mortification and Minato from amazement.
Wanting to move on from the sound she made ASAP, Sakura quietly asks, “What…what are you doing?” and clenches her fists to stop them from quivering any more.
Minato raises a pale brow, “What does it look like I'm doing?”, reaching to take her hands in his. “I don’t wanna be presumptuous.” she answers back.
Minato lets out a laugh, “There’s not much else you can interpret this as beyond what it actually is.” he says pointedly.
“You’d be surprised…” she mutters, recounting many sexual failures in her life and sexy-times with the blonde is not an instance where she wants to mistake it as sexy-times just because she’s having a painful dry-spell.
Minato hums in contemplation, “Let me put your mind at ease, then.” and grinds his erection onto her soaked puss*.
“Oh my God.” she moans, “Minato..."
Manhandling her hands to wrap around his neck, she feels her world rock, then Minato cordially asks, “Can I pick you up?”.
This man is going to kill her. Sakura, the future-cardiothoracic surgeons, heart is going to give way because Sakura is so turned on and so pent up and the prettiest and sexiest man she’s ever met is respectfully asking if he can pick her up to f*ck her.
Channelling every bit of honesty and genuinity in her body, Sakura looks earnestly at Minato and states with absolutely no hesitation, “You can literally do whatever you want to me.”
Minato’s face grows hungry, “Maybe next time, Sweetheart.”
Oh my God there’s going to be a next time. Definitely in heaven.
Then, Minato f*cking hoists her against the wall and she throws her head back and moans when he grinds against her again.
Best. Gala. Ever.
Stumbling towards the banquet hall, Sakura feels flushed, a little panicky and completely satiated. If Sakura was a poet, instead of a Doctor, she would recite pages and pages of wax poetry on how she just had the most enthralling and pleasurable sex of her f*cking life.
She’s not a poet though. Instead, she explained to Minato while she was going down on him, the stunning and perfect anatomical build of his penis and how the combination of size (not too big), girth (the most important part) and curve was a match made in heaven.
He had gotten harder as she continued. Minato so has an intelligence kink.
Coming to a pause, just shy of the door to enter into the banquet hall, Sakura glances back at Minato.
“Okay, I think they are all eating, so people will be too distracted to notice us. I’ll go in and once you’ve fixed yourself up you come.”
Minato snorts, “Oh, I definitely came alright.” and her face blazes when he gives her a wink.
“Don’t get me hot right now, we can’t be gone any longer or else someone will notice.”
She says this as she smooths down the little hairs disarray on the top of her head so she misses the absolutely taken look Minato gives her; fond, indulgent and totally besotted.
Taking a breath of courage, Sakura affirms, “Okay, I'm going in.” and his receptive nod, she opens the door and enters the hall.
Expecting everyone to be chatting and dining, she has a fairly lax stance that immediately straightens into pure anxiety when she notes than no, they have not in fact started eating and now, everyone is f*cking looking at her because they all heard the creaky door open.
Taking a brief glimpse at the stage and podium Sakura thinks, f*cking Fugaku .
She also realises she’s kind of just been standing there like a lemon and while some people are still looking at her, Fugaku has carried on talking, and she heaves a sigh of relief.
Which proves to be pointless, when the door creaks open again, and Sakura starts praying to whatever deity is up there that it isn’t Minato.
Apparently the Gods don’t care and think, You’re on your own tonight , because it seems the entire room gasps and stops and she knows it’s because Minato is behind her, looking as debauched as she feels. She hears his feet falter beside her and ponders if pretending she didn’t know who he was works.
However, as she takes a barely-there peep at Minato, she can’t help snapping while facing the scandalised patrons, “You didn’t even fully tuck in your shirt?”
“Well, someone said everyone would be distracted.” he mumbles back but even she can sense the amusem*nt in his voice at this situation.
Nothing amusing to her, personally, as she can viscerally feel her Sasuke-is-going-to-be-so-f*cking-annoying-about-this senses tingling.
Feeling literally every single f*cking eye on her; there’s a mixture of dismay, bafflement and unadulterated glee. Definitely Ino.
It’s at this she blanches, She just pulled a Shisui.
Feeling a small tug on the back of her dress, Minato discreetly offers, “We could just— like— leave?” and she stalls for a moment: she has to apologise to Mikoto for causing a scene, she has to continue her conversation with Tobirama about her PhD and she still has to meet with Ino to discuss the drama.
Wait,Sakura squints, I am the drama.
Huh.
Knowing Minato and by extension, the entire f*cking room, are awaiting her response Sakura looks at Mikoto who looks a little…impressed. Damn. Didn’t see that coming. Fugaku looks the same, stoic and uncaring as always, but she totally didn’t miss the twitch of his lips, oh Fugaku Uchiha is a little gossip-slu*t. Interesting.
Skimming over the rest of the Uchiha + Kakashi entourage, Sakura peeks at Naruto who looks ill, but in a supportive way so there’s that and Sasuke—
Sasuke just rolls his eyes and mouths, Go, in that bitchy and reclusive way to show his affection.
f*cking dickhe*d , she thinks giddily.
“f*ck it, lets go.” and letting go of all her restraint, grabs Minato and yanks him back the way they came. Eternally grateful she ditched a bag tonight and just kept her phone in her bra.
Besides, she has many months of unintentionally practising celibacy to make-up for and luckily, Minato isn’t battery-powered.
