Chapter Text
There was a knock at the door to Naruto’s apartment.
This was strange for a multitude of reasons. For one, it was eleven at night; she was fully ready for bed, in a delightfully oversized orange t-shirt that hung down to her knees and thick warm socks Iruka had gifted her for her thirteenth birthday pulled up over them. For another, even in the daytime, nobody ever knocked on her door. Not her peers, not solicitors, not proselytizers. Even her landlord and maintenance workers needed to practically be dragged inside when she needed something fixed.
And as far as she knew, the only person who was a part of her life and knew where she lived was the Sandaime.
Who could possibly be knocking?
It occurred to Naruto, briefly, that maybe she ought to get dressed. She glanced down at herself, cataloguing that she was nude under the shirt, but she was covered from the neck down, and the soft, worn fabric was shapeless, so she figured it was good enough. She set the glass of water she’d been walking back to bed with on the counter of her cramped kitchenette as she crossed the room to the door, just in time for a knock to sound again, a little more urgent this time.
“Naruto?” The voice was deep and rich, familiar and safe. Her lips curved up at the unexpected identity of her late night visitor, pleased as punch to hear him announce himself in a bored tone, “It’s Kakashi.”
Nearly bouncing in her joy even as an anxious voice in her head wondered if everything was okay, she was too excited to pretend she wasn’t. She ripped the door open, turning a beaming smile up at her sensei, handsome in his usual clothes and his usual bored demeanor, and so tall and strong, towering over her; it never made her feel intimidated, though, because there was something warm that flashed in his dark eye as he looked down at her, just for a moment before it wiped back blank. “Sensei,” she greeted him breathlessly. “Why are you here? Is everything alright? Do we need to go somewhere? Why do you—?”
“Call me Kakashi,” he interrupted her in an uncharacteristically soft, gentling voice, and something in her stomach dropped like a stone as the fear that she was about to receive bad news stabbed through her, causing her smile to falter as her fist clenched on the doorknob, some instinct inside her screaming for her to shut the door and lock it. “Nothing is wrong,” he assured her, his voice still soft and suddenly unfamiliar, his eye trained on her face in an unnaturally intent way that made the hair on her arms stand straight up. “Invite me in.”
Something didn’t feel right. Naruto’s gaze darted towards her knife block, then down to the pack slumped by the door which contained all her weaponry, then back up to Kakashi-sensei’s familiar face. “… What’s your passphrase?” she asked after a hesitant moment of fear, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to run.
But her sensei’s eye crinkled up into a proud smile, and something in her shoulders began to unhook even before he recited patiently, “Bisuke, lampshade, strawberry, violet, wrench.” His head tilted to the side, his voice more fond than she was used to hearing as he praised her, “Good girl, checking before you invite me in. Smart.”
Even as a very small voice still whispered suspicion in her heart, Naruto melted a little at being told she was good, giggling into her palm as she stepped aside to ask him in, apologizing as she did so, “It’s a little small and not well maintained, but it’s home. I hope you don’t mind!”
“I don’t mind,” the man assured her immediately as he followed her in, firmly taking the door from her to close and lock behind himself. She glanced anxiously over her studio apartment, small enough that someone as tall and long-limbed as he was could have stirred a pan on one of her two burners and still easily been close enough to her bed to kick it. And she tried to keep it tidy, she did, but she didn’t have space for a proper dresser, so all her clothes were in boxes under her bed, and the bathroom door didn’t open all the way because it hit her cramped desk which was covered with stacks of papers and notebooks… But her sensei wasn’t looking at any of that, she realized as she glanced back up at him. His gaze was still razor sharp on her face, like he was the one harboring suspicions about her identity.
Naruto bit her lip as her cheeks flushed at the scrutiny; silence fell as she wondered what she was supposed to say. “I only have one chair,” she managed after a pause. “Sorry. Would you… like tea?” She could make tea. That’s what hosts did, right? Was she supposed to feed him…?
Kakashi’s hand fell heavy on her head, petting down her shoulder-length mess of hair affectionately before he turned and began to strip off his vest and gloves, then toe
off his boots as he told her in the same strange tone, “No, that’s alright. Why don’t you sit on the bed?”
Was he… staying for a bit, then? Naruto glanced uncertainly at her alarm clock, which read 11:18. They had training in the morning at eight, though her sensei usually rolled in closer to ten. She really needed some sleep, but sensei never visited. … Nobody ever visited. So, eager to please her guest, she shifted around him in the small space, perching on the edge of her bed and drumming her fingers nervously against her covered thighs as she watched him arrange his shoes neatly next to her haphazardly discarded ones, then hang up his keys on top of hers on the hook. She tried really, really hard not to ask any questions, but one bubbled out anyway as her sensei turned to her, lean and long and casual-looking in a way that made her stomach twist as he shoved his hands in his pockets and resumed his quiet, intent staring. “Why… Um. What brings you by, sensei?”
“Kakashi,” he corrected neutrally, taking a step forward and then pausing, scanning her, like he was seeing how she’d react.
But Naruto just blinked at him, and it didn’t occur to her to react any particular way. “What—what brings you by, K-Kakashi?” she managed with only a little bit of a stutter.
“I wanted to see you.”
Alarm bells went off in Naruto’s head again. It was something about the way he said it, maybe, breathy and almost secretive. Something about the way he drifted closer to her. Something about the impossibility of someone wanting to see her. She held back the part of her that wanted simply to bask and preen at the idea of a man as cool as her sensei choosing to spend time with her, demanding with a sharp spike of anxiety, “You’re—you’re acting weird. What’s something only my sensei would know?”
This earned her another fond look, something unguarded in it that made her stomach flutter. “You weighed a hundred and four pounds at our last nutrition check in,” he told her accurately, shifting just a little closer. “Up three quarters of a pound. I scolded you for having ramen recorded in your food journal twice a row.” She started to relax, but he continued, teasing her in a pleased rumble, “The first time I took you three camping to work on survival skills, you asked me to get a big spider out of your tent—” Naruto squeaked in embarrassment, hiding in her palms and hunching her shoulders in. “—and I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone. Just like I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone that you cried when Sasuke pushed you into that pond and you came back up with leeches on your legs.”
Mortified, Naruto curled into herself, feeling almost betrayed that Kakashi would throw those moments of vulnerability in her face. She’d been so embarrassed when she’d cried as her sensei pried the first of the awful, squirmy, unfamiliar parasites off of her calf, and it wasn’t her fault that she’d never left the village before, never encountered wildlife like that—
She froze stiff as a weight settled beside her on her bed, peeking from between her fingers at her desk. She’d figured he’d sit there. It was casual conversation distance away. Like this, she could feel his arm brushing hers, but only for a second before, to her vague relief, it shifted away.
Only to reappear around her.
Naruto jerked her chin down to stare at the contact, watching the way Kakashi’s long, elegant fingers stroked her side, briefly squeezed her waist, and then settled on her hip.
… What was happening?
“Sensei—” she tried, her voice shaking a little.
“Kakashi,” he interrupted smoothly.
For a moment, her lips worked, but no sound escaped them. Then, like through a long tunnel, trying to prepare herself for whatever was going to happen next, she heard herself ask again, “… Why are you here?”
His arm was strong, unyielding where he pulled her slowly against his warm, hard torso. Her fists clenched in the fabric of her shirt, hyperaware that she wore nothing underneath it as his thumb stroked over where underwear would have sat on her hip, like he was aware of it, too. Anxiety shot through her like lightning as he dipped his head, pressing a masked kiss into her messy hair, and murmured warmly, “You did so well today, Naruto. I know you’re lonely. I thought maybe I could reward you with some positive attention.”
But it’s late, some part of Naruto whispered as she got hit with the one-two punch of praise and the promise of affection. It warmed her from the inside, made her stomach feel liquid and her ears burn. And… Maybe this was normal. Maybe she was overreacting. She’d never had a houseguest before. Maybe Kurenai also visited Hinata late and held her when she’d been good. Or maybe it was normal because she didn’t have anyone and her sensei knew she needed it. Either way, she found herself relaxing under his arm, trying not to hit him with big, pleading puppy eyes. She kept her gaze on her knees as she nodded just slightly, indicating that she understood.
Kakashi’s hand squeezed her hip, making her shiver pleasantly, then trailed up her arm and over her shoulder to cup her neck. He was so much bigger than her, his hand wrapping around with his palm to her throat so that his thumb was maybe only an inch from touching his longest finger, and there was a moment of anxiety before he dug his fingertips into her tight muscles, humming sympathetically at her little hiss of pain and pleasure at the contact. “Thought you’d be sore,” he murmured, and that made sense. They’d had an intense workout that morning. “Let me try to help.”
Naruto was afraid to lift her face and look at her sensei, afraid that if she did, he’d remember where he was and with who and not want to touch her or be near her anymore. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he murmured, an insistent rumble as his grip on her neck tightened, beginning to guide her to lay facedown on her quilt.
Briefly, instinctively, Naruto fought, holding herself up with hands clenched in her bedding, her body tense and unwilling as fear bolted through her again. “I—I should get dressed—”
The hand on her neck never left as her sensei’s other broad palm pressed down between her shoulder blades, forcing her flat and helpless to the mattress. In the same motion, he was on top of her, straddling her thighs, and her vision was white with panic before he leaned down close to her ear, speaking gently as he shifted both hands to her back and dug his thumbs in near her spine between her shoulder blades, shooting unexpected pleasure through her body. “Calm down,” he scolded her in that same strange, soft voice. “You know I won’t hurt you, don’t you?”
Of course he wouldn’t. Of course the Copy Ninja wouldn’t hurt her. Of course her goofy, perpetually late, always-pretending-he-wasn’t-attached sensei was a safe person for her. Even if he was acting weird. She nodded her head minutely, staring anxiously at the blue and white pattern of her quilt, and tried to relax as she received the first massage of her young life.
It felt good. Really good. It was hard to stay still, in fact, as the intense sensation of overworked muscles being loosened by force worked down her back, strong fingers bullying her knots and aches into submission; it was hard to stay still, stay quiet. She squirmed and gasped and breathed a little too loud, even as she tried like hell not to, afraid of doing something wrong, especially as the words good girl were whispered into the still air above her.
The ministrations edged her shirt up her thighs, and she fisted the fabric in both hands, holding it down, trying to ignore the odd excitement-fear thrill up her spine as the backs of her hands brushed the insides of the man on top of her’s thighs just a little, low by his knees. She’d never been this close to anyone for this long, she didn’t think. Had never been touched at length for pleasure instead of pain. The fact that her sensei had chosen her for this, deemed her worthy of it, filled her eyes with happy tears as she gradually relaxed, trusting him absolutely.
Then, though, at length, just as she started to drift, Kakashi-sensei shifted, pressing his hips against her, and she felt an ominous, threatening bulge against her behind. She froze up, thinking it must have been an accident, she must have misunderstood something, and blurted out anxiously as an awful thought struck her, “Sensei, are you—are you under a genjutsu?” Because surely he wouldn’t want to touch her like that on purpose, would he? He was acting so strange and scary. Would he know, if he was under the effects of—
“Thought so at first,” the man above her murmured, not pausing in the way he touched her, seemingly oblivious to how it forced her to squirm against where he was pressed up on her. “Or poisoned. But now I’m pretty sure it’s a dream.”
“A dream?” This wasn’t a dream. Naruto was wide awake and terrified, everything was in sharp focus, and she remembered her evening up until her sensei knocked on the door linearly. “It’s not a dream, sensei, it’s—”
“Shh,” the man urged her, rolling his hips against her with a shuddery sigh that shot dread up her spine. “It’s a dream. It’s okay. I’ll be gentle, and then we’ll wake up.”
Kakashi-sensei was going to fuck her.
The knowledge slotted into place like the lock on a jail cell door, leaving Naruto cold and still and numb. She froze stiff like a mouse caught in the corner by a cat, looking for ways out and not seeing any, but then one of his hands paused its massage into her back to clench in her shirt, inching it up her legs slowly, deliberately, and she broke, thrashing with a frightened cry, only to be immediately and brutally restrained, both wrists pinned to her lower back in a bruising hold as his other hand gripped the back of her skull, forcing her face down into the bedding and muffling her scream at the rough treatment as adrenaline flooded her.
She froze instinctively as her sensei’s body lowered over her, his hair brushing hers as he leaned down near her ear, encouraging her in that same strange, soft, affectionate voice, “It’s okay, sunshine. Shh. I can only be gentle if you let me. I want to be gentle.”
“Don’t,” she begged into the quilt, muffled, as she stayed frozen, knowing full well from months of hands-on experience that she had no hope of outrunning or outsmarting the elite jōnin on her back, that he was a thousand times stronger than her, his body like iron over hers, his grip on her wrists virtually shackles. “Sensei, please, please, don’t, let—let me up, please, I can’t—”
“I have to,” the man responded evenly, sounding sympathetic. “Don’t cry. I’ll be gentle.”
Naruto was crying. Her eyes burned and her nose ran and her throat was tight and she couldn’t breathe with him forcing her down like that. “You don’t have to,” she gasped, squirming. “You don’t, sensei, you don’t have to—”
“Kakashi,” he corrected her again, brushed masked lips over her ear and making shivers erupt down her spine that may have been fear or excitement or maybe both, she wasn’t sure. “Call me Kakashi.”
Terror tore through her like an earthquake as he tugged her shirt up, decisively this time, and cool air hit her thighs, her behind, her lower back. She wailed her humiliation, her hurt, her unwillingness, but he ignored her, and she knew good and well that none of her neighbors would do anything, no matter how she screamed. She was the only one that ever called law enforcement when shouting turned to thumping and screaming, and they largely hated her for it. Who cared if the jinchūriki was getting hurt, anyway?
“You’ll like it,” Kakashi assured her as he pried her thighs apart with one hand, the other still pinning her wrists and holding her down. “I’ll make sure. I’ll be gentle.” He touched her between the legs, and her body jolted with unexpected, sharp pleasure, making her gasp. His voice was openly affectionate as he cooed, “You’re wet for me. Such a good girl. So pretty.”
Her sensei didn’t talk like that. He didn’t comment on her appearance, didn’t pitch his voice low and private like that. He didn’t touch her like that. He—he teased her and ruffled her hair up and brushed leaves and twigs and dirt off of her after they sparred, usually with a joke about leaving nature where she found it. He was brotherly when he was warm, smiled at her the way Iruka did. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be—
“Ah!”
Naruto had touched herself before. It had taken a while, a long time after she’d started waking up from dreams still seizing with pleasure… Her time in the orphanage being told by monks that the place between her legs was bad had made it seem so scary, but she’d eventually given in to her body, become acquainted with her fingers and the handle of her hairbrush.
But this was different. Her sensei’s long, slender digit inside her was alien and violating with an element of body horror at how deeply unfamiliar movement outside her control in her most vulnerable place was, and before she could respond at all beyond a hitching cry, his wrist twisted and he pressed against her in a way that made her vision fizz white and she thrashed, shrieking at him to stop, stop, stop as he did it again, and again, and—
And then everything did stop. Kakashi cut off her struggling by lying across her back, forcing his weight down until she could barely breathe, let alone move. Still right into her ear, with a tone of mild confusion, like he didn’t care what the answer was, he asked her quietly, “Do you not want me to be gentle?”
“I—I don’t want it at all,” she whimpered, turning her head away from his face and scrunching her eyes shut, feeling sick and angry and scared and guilty. “I want you to stop.”
Her sensei hummed, as though considering her words, even as his finger began to move inside her again, slow and steady and white-hot and too much. “I’ll make sure you come,” he promised, and hysterical, panicked laughter swelled in her chest, coming out as a choked, hitching, giggling sob.
He thought that was the problem? Besides, “I—I can’t,” she argued, as though it would help, but of course it wouldn’t. She was trying to distract him, to buy time, to delay the inevitable, but the man inside of her on top of her only made a little amused, sympathetic noise.
“Oh, baby girl,” he crooned, nudging into her hair with his nose. “Yes, you can.”
She’d tried plenty of times, but it only ever happened when she was sleeping. It definitely wasn’t going to happen when she was hyperventilating, her lungs screaming and her heart pounding, when someone she loved was hurting her, when she was teetering on the familiar edge of what Iruka had kindly explained was disassociation and not ‘realizing her feelings were all pretend.’ Except—except when Kakashi kept touching her, when he pressed a second finger into her and massaged the place inside her that made her see stars and the pad of his thumb worked at her clit, her whole body began to shake, her pleasure building even as she fought it tooth and nail, not wanting to feel good when he was—when he was making her—
“Please, please, please,” she sobbed when none of her struggling helped, when every touch and caress felt like magic fire and her body had been transformed into something unfamiliar and needy and terrifying. “Please, sensei, stop it, snap out of it, sensei—”
“Kakashi,” he damn near growled, speeding up his massage in a way that made her body seize and go still, her vision swirly and her breath stuck in her throat. “Don’t make me remind you again.”
It was supposed to be Kakashi, stop it. She was supposed to spit it out, let him hear her indignant rage, how serious she was about not wanting this. But what came out was a strangled moan of his name as her legs began to tremble violently, and then something that had been growing inside of her burst, ripping from her core out to her fingers and toes, the pleasure of it searing and too much too much too much—
Her body was so wrung out and her mind so scattered in the aftermath that she almost thanked him for pulling his fingers out. Might have, if her lips and tongue had been working, if she hadn’t been too busy panting open-mouthed into the quilt, wondering if coming meant that she wanted it, if he’d known that she would somehow and that was what made it okay, if he’d leave her alone now that he’d gotten what he—
Then there was some shuffling, though, the sound of a zipper, and something blunt and hot pressed against where he’d been touching her, causing her whole body to go rigid. “Good girl,” Kakashi murmured, words warm and sincere. “Told you that you could. Now you’re ready.”
“Please,” she rasped, feeling as though she had a knife to her throat. She tried to scratch him, but his grip was too tight, and her fingers going numb, anyway. “Please—”
“Don’t have to beg me for it,” the man over her teased as he pressed more firmly against her. He stroked her back, then her hair, and then told her quiet, as though reminding her, “Gentle,” as he pushed inside for the first time with a long, pleasured sigh.
It—it hurt. Physically, like she was being torn apart, but also emotionally, like she’d been abandoned at the bottom of a pit. The shock of it forced the air from her lungs on a long, agonized whine, struggling helplessly as it just kept coming, forcing her open, impaling her, deeper and deeper until there was no more room for her lungs to inflate or her heart to beat.
“Does it hurt?” The question came close to her ear, worried and sweet and out of place, and she wanted to scream that of fucking course it did. She wanted to attack him, to fight, to kill the imposter wearing her sensei’s face. But she couldn’t breathe or move or see or exist, so she just jerked her chin in a nod, rubbing her face against the wet fabric beneath her. The man inside her hummed, stroking her side with his free hand, and assured her quietly as he straightened up behind her, “It’ll stop.”
He let her wrists go, and Naruto found the energy for one last bid for freedom, bracing her numb hands beneath her and bucking up. Unfortunately, this only succeeded in causing the man hurting her to let out a low, terrifying groan of pleasure as he gripped her hips tight and pulled her back onto him, penetrating her impossibly deeper and punching her breath from her lungs on a sharp cry of pleasure-pain. Then he snatched her wrists again, yanking her arms out from under her until she fell back flat on the bed, and no matter how hard she fought, she had no chance of stopping him from tying her hands behind her back, not when she was skewered and not even remotely on his level. Something in her broke when she felt metal against her skin and realized he’d used his hitai-ate, a symbol of his commitment to the village, to his fellow shinobi. To her and Sakura and Sasuke. Had he done this to them, too?
“There you go,” Kakashi soothed her as she checked out of her body, going limp and blank. “Just a dream, remember?”
Just a dream, Naruto told herself as her sensei pushed her shirt further up until her back was exposed, then carefully pulled off her socks one at a time, his other hand rested on her hip with his thumb dug into the meat of her thigh just under the swell of her behind. Just a dream, she told herself as he returned to slowly massaging her back, attentive to her sore spots, humming his pleasure any time he did something that made her clench involuntarily around his intrusion.
She didn’t even notice it didn’t hurt that much anymore until he started moving, first shallow rocks of his hips that she barely registered past the white noise in her brain, and then deep, slow thrusts that made her toes curl. And he spoke to her, more than he ever did in real life.
“You’re taking it really well, sunshine,” he told her more than once, pressed up against her back, his masked lips trailing across her neck, her ears, her shoulders. “You’re pretty like this, being good for me. Cute. Are you going to come for me again? I’d love to feel it. You feel so good, doll. So tight and wet for me.”
His question terrified her because she thought the answer might be yes as her pleasure built gradually but unerringly, her sobs broken by pleasured gasps and ahs, and when she tried to shift so that it wouldn’t be so intense, he shifted with her, like he somehow knew the exact angle to make her eyes roll back in her head and her body shake and refused to give it up. His praise terrified her because she wanted so badly for it to be true, because there was a small part of her that said at least he’s paying attention to me.
“Sensei—” she moaned, hating herself for the sound, the neediness in it, the way she was drifting in and out of her body.
His hands tightened on her hips as he abruptly sped up, driving the air from her lungs again as he wiped her mind blank with each deep, hard thrust. “Kakashi,” he corrected in a snarl. “Say it.”
But Naruto couldn’t. She was struggling for breath, her legs shaking under him as he wrung pleasure from her untried body, the new pace making stars burst across the backs of her eyelids with every thrust. She shook her head, mumbling no, no, no, but he only wrapped his hand around her throat, applying just enough pressure that she panicked and had an even harder time breathing in, and for some reason, that was what her body needed to send her tumbling over the edge.
She wailed, the sound broken and pleading, canting her hips just slightly into Kakashi’s, and he groaned, never pausing his assault on the glowing spot inside her as his thing began to pulse and her pleasure tipped into overstimulation, every thrust painful in a confusing way that she wasn’t sure hurt. Everything became wetter as he slowed to a stop and released her neck, panting in her ear, and on the heels of her gratitude that he was no longer moving in that way that made her feel like she would die, it registered to her that her sensei had just come inside her.
“You… didn’t use a condom?” she heard herself mumble into the tear-soaked quilt, trying to catch her breath, trying to be okay.
The man inside her laughed, the sound low and affectionate and rumbling in a way that made her breath hitch, and then he kissed her cheek, explaining softly, “This is just a dream. And you’re on birth control, anyway.” As though to prove it to her, he leaned back, shifting his left hand from her hip to the place in her arm where the implant had been inserted while Sakura held her hand and their sensei provided silent moral support, the week after she’d made genin.
It… really was him.
She barely felt it as Kakashi began to move inside her again. She was outside of her body, gone, his breathy sounds of pleasure and the wet squelch of his intrusion distant, like they were happening to someone else. She was exhausted, tears still leaking from her eyes and nose as she hid her face, trembling. “Aren’t you done?” someone asked in a small, dead, bone-tired voice.
Her sensei draped himself over her again, tangling both hands in her hair as he pressed kisses to the back of her head. “You can rest,” he assured her warmly. He was getting hard again, the movement inside her body becoming more insistent. “I’ll go slow, try not to keep you up. Take care of everything.”
Hours, Naruto was fairly sure. She spent hours facedown in her bed with her sensei inside her, half asleep and half sure she was hallucinating, sometimes unable to feel him at all and other times unable to escape the ecstasy as he ushered her over the edge of another orgasm. Every time his rhythm stuttered and he pressed his forehead against her, muffling his pleasure as he pulsed inside her again, she’d pray he was done, but somehow, he never was.
At some point, she dipped into unconsciousness and simply didn’t come back up.