Archive of Our Own

She remembers thinking he was her dad.

Dada was said many times before being corrected, gentle reinforcement for her to use another term when Sarada was too little to comprehend family dynamics, easily confused about why the man who carried her in his arms or on his shoulders should only be called Ojisan while her real father didn't stay to watch her grow.

Sarada remembers Naruto’s constant visits through the years, many times along with his own complete family. Other times it was only him, asking her mom about her day and talking about adult issues regarding their busy lives; then he was all for Sarada to play, just like a loving father should do with his kids. A big man behaving like a silly one, holding toys and plushes and for some moments Sarada’s guts warmed with jealousy, thinking about how Boruto and little Himawari were the rightful children who had this at home more times than Sarada could ever.

Maybe her big crush toward the older man started when she finally understood the intricacies of the relations around her—she understanding that despite the fact that she sees him as more of a father than anyone else, the proper way is to call him Naruto-san in governmental places, bowing to him sometimes, and following correct social manners because he was more an important political figure than real family. Be a good girl, so she could stay by his side. Stealing glances at him and at the handsome features of his face, or notice how tall and strong his figure looks with other men standing beside him.

She keeps her attraction towards him with unspoken words every time she sees him, carrying the admiration she feels in the tone with which she says ‘Hokage-Sama’.

Call me Sensei, Sarada-chan! Or Ojisan! But a cool Ojisan…

She giggles softly; she relishes the fact that she’s the only girl with a favorite treatment beside Himawari. 

He’s the one who has never let go of their supposed closer relationship cultivated through the year. Not family, but close.

It’s 2:00 am.

“W-what you doin’ here, pretty?” Naruto slurs and Sarada instantly blushes while hearing the sweet term. He never calls her like that—pretty, princess, sweet girl—anymore.

“Sensei…?”

She’s a little confused at first, but just one contemplative gaze at him makes it clear: he’s drunk, a poor man believing he’s at his own doorstep.

Mom isn’t home, it’s the time of the month in which someone like Sakura is the most needed at the hospital; administratively speaking, that’s it. Documents and documents to fill up, working there all day and night until everything is organized.

“Mm, let me inside, pretty... So tired,” he continues with a small pout on his lips. He looks cute, flushed, and Sarada is delighted.

She doesn’t say anything when he steps inside, their bodies brushing as she allows the door wide open so he can pass through the threshold. 

Then she once again feels jealousy—a different one like the one when she was a little girl—when he softly calls for Hinata-san.

“She… um, Hinata-san isn’t here, Sensei.”

Sarada has no idea what she’s doing or what is going to happen as she closes the door, her back against it. He looks at her over his shoulder, his mind obviously far away from proper cognitive processes. Naruto smiles at her, though. So handsome. He smiles with such an easy grin, like it doesn’t matter that his wife isn’t there at Sarada’s confirmation; like it doesn’t matter anymore that Sarada was the one who opened the door.

And before walking to the nearest couch only to collapse without the minimal grace—what a lightweight man—Naruto says a cryptic, “Then don’t tell her, sweet girl.”

Sarada almost gasps for the new pet name, but she doesn't show any emotion. She will tell Hinata-san, and mom too; actually, she needs to send two separated messages right now. If anyone has seen Hokage-sama walking toward the Uchiha residence, Sarada is afraid about how much of it will spread like wildfire around the citizens of Konoha first thing tomorrow. Best action to take is to send those responsible messages about the little obvious misunderstanding...

How childish of him, and Sarada starts to giggle a little bit, softly. What a big man behaving like an immature one.

Sarada also wonders how much alcohol he has consumed to get like this, taking into account his fast metabolism. He isn’t a drinker—for him to be like this? It requires a lot of alcohol… And Sarada for a moment feels concerned about him. Something happened?

She shakes her head as, plain and simple, she moves on to complete her duty to inform mom and the Uzumaki household about her current situation. It’s just to avoid problems the next day.

Just helping her Sensei.

However, she hasn’t stopped blushing the whole time. 

Butterflies right there inside her womb.

She doesn’t believe she can sleep all night. Not while he’s here with her .

It has been a whole hour.

It’s too silent. It’s wrong… She’s aware of it.

What am I doing, really?

She understands about sex; she has read about human libido. She practically can point out where her massive crush on her Hokage materializes in her lean body. She feels it between her legs—throbbing skin, a light pulsation she can’t ignore—making her feel dirty.

Sarada can discern some of the changes that her hormones make in her own teenage body and the growing rhythm of the blood in her veins. 

She also understands how wrong it is to take advantage of someone who’s drunk. Unconscious . Regardless, here she is—above the man of her dreams, watching his even breaths, no one to witness them as the smell of booze lightly hits her. She has shifted on the couch with gentle motions, knees and hands carefully placed on the soft material, caging the unaware man.

His broad torso makes it difficult, the muscles all over his body don’t leave her enough room, and the fear inevitably reaches her ears, the pulse of Sarada’s heart is almost painful, hammering inside her chest as if she were in front of an enemy. She’s afraid that the sound of her enamored heart finds its way to Naruto’s own ears and wakes him up to the blurred sight of her legs and arms parted on each side of him, not touching but so close. She’s afraid that blue eyes snap open and no excuses will make it easy for her.

(Sarada-chan?! What are you doing?)

(So— So sorry! Please don’t hate me!)

Careful—always, always careful—Sarada keeps watching his sleepy face. 

How can he look so beautiful under her gaze? Why him? Why does her heart beat so hard for a married man? The father of her friends.

She knows about Naruto’s crush on her mom when they were little; perhaps it’s life payback. 

Look, mother, I’m in love with the one you rejected.

Feels like I can’t live without him.

Now he’s right under her and she’s lucky, isn’t she? But this is also her curse. If she dares to kiss him, she will only be able to think about it for the rest of her life, doomed to this ill-fated love of hers.

“Naruto?” she calls him, so softly, leaning in but not quite right by the man's ear. “Na…ruto?” she repeats again, getting a bit closer, no honorifics needed. He doesn’t make a noise, his lungs expanding and relaxing in a serene tempo.

She can’t swallow the knot behind her throat, feeling unfair as her eyes sting a bit. For others this is so easy, she knows. Limbs entangled, lips touching as hands roam the small corners of another loved body. It’s how this man became a father, pleasurable touches and instincts free, and the evidence of Sarada’s terrible desires becomes clear when she thinks of wrists pinned to the bed and his heavy body restraining a smaller one in a room filled with filthy sounds.

M-my pussy… Sarada dares to think, the words like a vulgarity on her young mind as she finally sits down on him. Her pussy is touching him; this time a part of her is touching him as a woman lusting for him, as if something is pulling that small part of her toward his existence, pulling her into the precipice. 

“My love? See my p-pussy?”

The five-letter term is like a sin she shouldn’t commit, something she shouldn’t deal with yet, but here she is and his clothes and her panties are the only barriers between them now. It also makes her think about his cock being forced into her virgin body. Lean, thin, still a girl... she must feel tight, hormones making her quickly wet, immature for so many things and yet she feels like the proof of that dirty, terrible universal secret that a body like hers is fertile enough to create another life when a man’s seed is engulfed by her tender skin. Her pubis is sensitive to estrogen; her breasts can increase in size if needed; her body is capable of sexual reproduction. She’s an alluring little thing to anyone who takes their time to see her like that…

Does Naruto think about it too? Has he let his mind wander through improper thoughts? Does he see young female subordinates behind his closed eyelids as he jerks himself in the shower following his baser desires?

Does he think about smooth skin and flexible limbs? 

…has he ever used her appearance for it?

Sarada doubts he’s having affairs, and yet she wonders how he would react if her belly fills with his child as trembling and delicate fingers fall now on the solid muscles of Naruto hidden beneath his clothes.

He won’t hate you. Not at all. He’ll let you have his child.

Sarada shifts again, moving down a bit, and still there is no response. It starts to feel like a dream, tremor slowly morphing into an opportunity, every past frustration, every lingering anxiety is left behind. It’s like a dream now, one so feverish when she is allowed to continue without real consequences. (It’s a welcome fantasy, one where she isn’t the worst daughter, where she doesn't taint the love of a good man). Her needs run through her veins so intensely that Sarada is sure that if she closes her eyes, she could also imagine his bandaged hand around her throat, sliding down to her clavicle. But she’s the one using her hands here, first barely touching above Naruto's crotch, fingers brushing the zipper of his dark pants. 

Just this once.  

It’s like their old games, isn’t it? Like those old days in the past when she believed or wanted to believe that Uzumaki Naruto was her father, both of them alone, only the two of them together as he indulged her with tender hands and silly vocals.

He’s now all for her to play.

It’s fine while no one but her knows about it. She will be the only one bearing the guilt.

Careful, Sarada undid his fly to expose the briefs under his pants. He doesn’t move, and her chest tightens this time with satisfaction that rushes south. However, suddenly, she keeps still, her daring action—the real first destroyed boundary—as one disturbing idea makes her worried: the beast inside her lover, can sense this? Would it tell him? It’s strange enough that a man with so much power is wasted like this, tired with deep sleep, unaware of the heat increasing between them.

“I won’t do it again. Never again,” she swears in a whisper as if it changes anything, and perhaps her begging is plenty to validate her happiness, centuries-alive creatures disinterested in mundane human matters. 

Biting her lower lips, Sarada finally slides her hand under his underwear, twisting her wrist until she can grab with her fingers the head of Naruto’s cock. She gasps—the smallest noise—her eyes wide open with this small action, the first time touching a texture like this, a turning point in her life. The cock feels burning hot in her fingers, and the smooth skin is also slippery. She doesn’t expect it. And she knows what it means.

He isn’t completely soft, the tip already finding its way up, wanting to get free out of the elastic waistband of his briefs.

“S-sorry.” It’s a reflex, an apology like the ones she gave without real thinking. Her other hand pulls the unresponsive adult free from his underwear. It’s dark, but the street illumination delivers a soft light, letting her see what she needs . Sarada stares in awe at the man's cock, foreskin withdrawing halfway ; it’s big, awakening under her touch, looking more thick than the medical books she has seen. She can say its fat pink head is pretty, wide and looking like its owner has taken good care of it. It sits on her palm now, and Sarada traces her eyes along the large size, prominent veins working diligently to make it bigger. Is he dreaming? Does his mind provide him with nice images?

Either way, she’s entranced. Love is desperately squeezing her ribcage, the light fabric of the little dress she’s wearing for the night suddenly feeling so tight. 

As she moves over him, she feels a renewed fervor, ignoring the deep exhale that he finally has made. 

It’s fine, Sarada says to herself, shifting so slowly until she’s placed on his lap, her shoulders trembling both for a twisted anticipation and for the cold breeze that dances down the hall to the living room and bites the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders. Then, in a soft way but deliberately, she’s sitting the swell of her ass above her Hokage’s balls.

She doesn’t dare to sigh, but what’s under her feels big, making her want to whimper. However, what she dares to do is reach under her—between them—to pull the soft fabric of her panties to slip it to the side, feeling immediately the natural warmth radiating from Naruto getting into her innermost skin. It’s just another small motion but it’s enough to allow that veiny cock to directly touch her, warm skin against her skin as she leans on a bit, one mature organ right there outside her virginal lips—like a too intimate kiss.

She moves a bit and it feels so nice. Feels like she is made for it. (So many nerve endings made for this moment, to get pleasure from a man). It elicits a soft sigh from her.

Sarada knows what she wants, what she needs. Her body will guide her, making her wet, producing slick until she can engulf him, make him hers.

Sarada also knows what is hidden between her legs, what the soft, vertical fissure between her pussy normally keeps hidden, now with her legs at each side of him helping that soft skin to open as long as she grinds against him, as long as the male length is dragged along her slit, making her feel exposed even if blue eyes are closed. 

Sometimes Sarada has touched it— that little erogenous area—and she has always wondered if Naruto would like it—if he would salivate at the sight of it. Pink, small, soft, rounded, inviting... 

Sarada’s finger brushes it now. So good—

Rolling her hips back and forward in the most delicate motions, she also closes her eyes, imagining it’s Naruto’s finger rubbing her clit. She dares to throw her head back, mouth parted in a silent cry. Yes, like that. She rubs herself in circles, faster, and the following sound leaving her mouth is the first loud moan she has exhaled in the presence of a man, and another one—low, barely there—helps to fill the false quietness of the house as she keeps touching herself.

‘Pretty girl’, Naruto would say. He would admire her clit. He would kiss it if only they weren't so doomed. He would murmur against it with sweet words and taste it like it were made of candy if only this isn’t so forbidden. 

If only she can be with him and not violate him—a little minx twisting the remains of their usual kindness in such a way as if he belongs to her.

She’s starting to make a mess on him, and there’s nothing Sarada wants to do more than to continue this until he’s rock-hard inside her. That's what the books describe, no? A natural action on how she can use him.

Sarada looks down at him again, her mouth still parted, this time around silent exhales. (Careful, he shouldn’t open his beautiful eyes).

She stops for a short moment, focusing on the virile glans, imagining how heavy and warm it could feel on her tongue. But she won’t push her luck, not if Sarada wants that fat cock to begin to disappear inside her, taking her virginity— what she wants.

(No. Actually, her most desired dream is for him to take control of her body, play with her as Naruto pleases while he destroys her innocence. To force her on her back, his much bigger body leaning forward as he placed himself between sinful legs, murmuring what Sarada wants to hear while he puts his weight on the soft skin of the back of her thighs).

(Thrusting inside her with force, forgetting everyone else; his blue eyes only on her…)

One open palm rests on his pec, and Sarada’s lower body lifts a bit, enough for her finger to slide down, touching her wetness and the warmth between her sensitive cunt lips. She pushes it inside, not at all hesitated, and as if something instinctively stirrers for him beneath the unconsciousness, Naruto’s blond head moves to the side, a soft exhale from his nose feels like everything for her—a reaction induced by her presence. She starts moving her finger in and out, her eyes tracing the lines of his profile, here only for her visual pleasure, the male shape of his face remarked by the street lightning reaching them. 

A small knot between his brows.

My love, she doesn’t dare to pronounce aloud, just the lips of her mouth shaping the silent syllables.

She adds a second finger—not quite the sufficient preparation for a virgin like her, but she knows she can’t wait any longer. Her lover is waiting.

"I'll take care of you.”

She presses down, pulling her fingers out and placing both palms on Naruto’s chest as she starts grinding forward, an ancient knowledge taking control of her insides, guiding her until Naruto’s tip is right there against her clit, and it makes her thighs jerks, fill her ribcage with more of the love she feels for him.

Naruto’s cock reacts as if it loves her back; hard, erected for her to use.

She closes her eyes, dragging that adult cock against her entrance, nothing in the world is stopping this. She moans again, unable to contain her noises. “Ah—!” Behind her eyelids, she imagines his blue eyes opening, she imagines his consciousness emerging again just when she’s making her first attempt to put him inside her. How will he react, really? What will he do as soon as he sees Sarada’s face above him with so much pleasure reflected? But when she opens one eye to glance down at him, he stays quiet, no more than a few harder inhales and exhales, his brow slightly frowned with sweat.

Sarada feels how his tip catches between the tender folds of her entrance, and her hands clench and wrinkle the fabric of his jacket. It must feel uncomfortable with all those clothes but Sarada couldn’t think about logistics.

Now, finally, slowly , gradually, pushing down, she spreads herself open around her lover, her virgin pussy spreading open for him, already struggling to stretch wide for Naruto. It burns her, makes her involuntary tremble. A big cock rasping her untouched walls, carving its shape the deeper it goes. 

There’s this small hurt. The smallest sting. Perhaps it’s the last of her innocence cracking inside her, some small resistance tangling a tiny bit more inside her body as she’s willingly becoming a woman. (One of Naruto’s women).

And as if she has the right, she pulls her nightgown off, revealing her small tits and her flat but firm stomach. Only her panties give some decorum to the curves of her hips and rounded ass, the fabric already damp with sweat and her arousal, a mess sticking to her pale skin.

He’s half inside her and Sarada’s senses narrow down to their union. 

“B-big…” But every flicker of uncertainty has dissolved long minutes ago, and their intimate proximity has placated any inner turmoil, softening the harsh reality outside that house. She wants to have him completely inside her. “You feel so big inside me.”

The weight of what she’s really doing—taking what isn’t hers—would sit heavy on her chest, but not now.

For now, he’s hers.

“Mine…” she whispers—almost hiccups—and she doesn’t realize that some kind of emotional pain is sent through her until tears spring to her eyes, all because Sarada has fallen in love, but she knows this union will only be what she will ever have from him. Her confession is a crystalized plea of desperation, blurred when Naruto’s mouth opens again under a hard exhalation and a pinched expression, and Sarada is taking him deeper.

I have always loved you…

Blond hair sinks a little bit onto the material of the couch, and Naruto’s frowned brow slightly shifts into pleasure that she can recognize, even if it’s the first time looking at the face of a man under sexual gratification.

He’s feeling good too. Under his well-defined chest, Hokage-sama’s heart is palpitating for her. She also feels the throbs of his large cock growing more intense, and Sarada sinks down closer to him as her insides twist with wonderful pressure. She feels full but there’s more of her lover. Just more of it... Just more and he will be buried fully inside her. Inside someone who loves him.

“Ugh—” he moans manly in his sleep, his ribcage taking more of air. And she pushes down, not stopping, not even when the pressure increases and something in the back of her head alerts her to find some relief, to move back up and start again, but she ignores it… She only has this time, and she won’t tear open. She’s made for him .

And then there’s it, her stubbornness showing results as her mouth opens to let out a silent moan as she takes his entire length.

With his jaw clenching, Naruto grunts, hands rigid but reflexively trying to clutch onto something. Blond head turning against the couch.

Is she what they call a natural? Because it doesn’t feel totally uncomfortable; on the contrary, she’s even surprised by how natural it feels, how her body knows now that she just needs to wait, and how easy it will be to adjust. She’s taking whatever she wants, and the face of her beloved is encouraging her— Naruto is feeling good too . She is making him feel good.

Shameless, he’s completely inside her. Uunwittingly, he has just taken her virginity. She’s stuffed full, and she likes it. (Was this such a cruel thing? Sending pleasure to her lover, even if he doesn’t know?)

There’s still a sharp pain, but nothing she can’t handle, especially when her mind is pleased by the sensation—something unlike anything she'd ever experienced, and it feels so easy to get addicted to it. To crave for it every day, offer herself just like he would want her, in any position he would ask. (Would he fuck her in his Hokage desk? Does he ask for his wife to bend over the kitchen table? Has he eaten out other women, let them ride his handsome face?)

And then, as soon as any pain starts to recede and intoxicating sensations are overwhelming, Sarada lets her body guide her again. 

Clearly, she isn’t an expert, but she rolls her hips in a circle, moving in clockwise, gently, starting her own rhythm. It’s enough to create with him a soft squelching noise, and with his eyes closed, Naruto’s body responds in turn as a girl rides him. 

"Hgh, f-fuck—” The words are soft, but they carry an intensity as he’s pushing his hips up, reflexively, driven by her. Sweet dreams with his primal male urges awake, enjoying Sarada’s pussy, how it pulses around him.

She smiles, she’s happy for it, following his unwitting moves. 

The room feels hot as she gazes down at him with such reverence that if anyone saw her, they would have no doubt of how much she loves him, and braced on the Naruto's chest, she can’t control her next movements, now rolling her hips back and forth before sliding up and down his cock, her motions not so slow as seconds before, and she knows her climax is nearing; she’s already dangerously close to the edge, pleasure emerging right there between their union.

Oh, so this is why adults like sex so much?

Or perhaps she’s such a lucky girl because, along with the fact that her mind is clouded by hormones, the feeling of being connected to him is enough to fill her with bliss and possessive desire.

It feels so incredible.

He’s not aware of it but he’s making love to her. He’s making her think that until she’s being filled with his cum it will be the only thing that can satiate her.

With that thought—his cock spurting ropes of white cum inside her—her pussy and belly clench with too many feelings, and it makes her whimper. Her pulsating pussy feels so good .

“Yes! Na–Naruto… I'm going to... I'm going to… Oh!” Trembling and maybe too soon, her climax ripes through her like lightning, making her jerk with tiny spasms, one after the other. She can’t stop tightening around him even more, and she isn’t sure if she screamed, but quite possibly did.

It’s pure ecstasy, and she has to stop moving, almost going taunt. She’s panting and drenched in sweat. She has become a woman.

Then, eventually, as the high faded, the realization hit her again: the wrongness of everything she has done and she’s doing. He squirms, eyebrows furrowed and he grunts as if something inside him, like desperation, calls for attention… Naruto is still rock-hard inside her, still stretching her out, his heavy balls waiting to be emptied. 

He needs her, and Sarada wants to watch him cum beneath her.

“My love…” 

His hips move in small but spasmodic thrusts, instinctively using the pussy that has taken him—a carnal refuge that loves the feel of his cock. “Nh-”

She dares to keep riding him, restarting her previous motions with a better understanding now, clenching around the cock again. It’s so addictive to watch the pleasure helplessly washing over his face, twisting his dreams. Both joined and sharing a lovely time again. Only the two of them. (She will be the only one bearing the guilt).

And there’s no doubt that she must feel so good—suckling him so good—because Naruto’s cock finally twitches and she can feel the hot heat filling her. Naruto, her Hokage, the dear friend of her parents, is releasing a hot stream of cum deep inside her, right against her womb, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears because she loves it. Love him. (She has been claimed by him: one of her women now).

Then she clutches his clothes, quiet, calming their racing hearts—the reality of their (her) situation setting in as she’s painfully aware of the fact that she has just had sex with Uzumaki Naruto. 

(She stays like that just for a little longer).

(He is her love).

Naruto’s nightmare is the sweetest dream.

Sarada is squirming on his lap, so inexpertly shifting and adjusting above his clothed erection. She looks at him with heated eyes before they kiss.

She feels so nice. She looks so cute.

“You’re mine, sweet girl?” Naruto pushes a wayward strand behind her ear, his mouth now kissing one of her bare shoulders.

He can’t hear her answer, but in a dream it isn't necessary. He can use the little nymph.

He can tell her, ‘Just the tip’ , and then it’s not.

Everything that he can’t do is allowed here. A nightmare that can destroy his life but that actually tastes so sweet as long as he has his eyes closed.