Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

AN: I wrote this listening to "i love you" and "listen before i go" from Billie Eilish. You should too.

Wanting

War just ended, a treaty they said, an agreement.

Fire was his, if only he puts a stop to everything.

The terms were simple; the God of Shinobis won't destroy the world but will finally accomplish his destiny.

Madara Uchiha will be the Fire Daimyō and the sole ruler of Konohagakure's shinobis.

It was really the only way, they said.

As an Uchiha, all he did, he did with passion.

The war was for him to take back what is rightfully his.

When he founded Konohagakure, he wanted it to flourish and shape it to his likes.

Still, they all thought that his rule is an omen of dark, obscure times.

Oh how simple minded of them, as they forgot how obscurity brings out clarity.

Sakura was running late; she woke up groggy that morning. Looking up at her bathroom's mirror she met red swollen eyes, a sight she was used to by now. Sleep was sparse, and the events that were taking place way too important. Sighing, she grabbed a hair tie and gathered her hair in a high ponytail, not even bothering to brush out the tangles that formed overnight. Oh how she hated it. Although its pink dulled, it was still too bright, it reminded her of times her heart was complete and her soul unstained. She proceeded to wash her face, noticing the sharp purplish tinge that formed on her cheekbone. Shrugging she left it there, the medic in her didn't care to heal it.

After minutes of gazing at her reflection, she finally resolved herself to go to that meeting she has been dreading for too long.

The Hokage tower was no more, nor the faces that adorned the mountain behind it. Replacing it was a huge edifice of stone and wood, that he created. Entering the great hall, she was met by a small crowd. Like her, they were summoned by the council.

"I didn't think I would see you here" She heard behind her. Looking at the source of the voice she said "I'm not the one who was on a mission" emphasizing the last word.

"It has been long hasn't it?"

"Weren't you supposed to be back two weeks ago?" The medic asked, staring curiously at her life long friend.

"I had to make a detour." the blond answered, "Sai's birthday was coming up." a look of sorrow briefly traversing her face.

Sakura's face stayed unchanged, as she studied her friend. Half a year does a lot to a person. Her hair, long and luscious for most of her life was now short and strict. Her eyes blue and malicious were now filled with melancholy. The Yamanaka heiress did really change after the war.

After a heavy silence Sakura asked, unable to look the blond in the eyes "How was it?"

Understanding filled Ino as she replied "Full… also empty."

"Hm..." So that was how the remaining of the battlefield felt like.

"Weren't you supposed to be at the capital?" tried to inquire Ino.

"I was supposed to be there three weeks ago, but there was a delay… some issues with the south."

"Ah, they weren't the most compliant." Not wanting to ask her at first, but still curious, the blue eyed kunoichi couldn't stop the words from escaping her mouth "But really, why are you here? It's been a year, and you never came to these meetings. Why now?"

Sakura did want to answer, but she really didn't know what to say. A year was a long time, yet not long enough to forget, to recover. So she pressed her lips together and looked away.

Madara Uchiha, instated a new order, unlike the ancient Fire Daimyō, he made sure to be informed of every single thing that happened in the country. Thus daily reports were sent in his attention to the capital of Fire. He also assigned a number of shinobis as heads of specific departments. And in order for the system to run smoothly, meetings with all the heads were held on a monthly basis. The pink haired shinobi acknowledged the efficiency of the structure, still, as the vice head of the Health Department of the Land of Fire, she couldn't convince herself to attend these meetings, even after a year. However, today was different, it was exactly a year, to the day since the Great Shinobi War ended.

An oppressing chakra pressured all those present in the room, surprise etched on their face, as, usually the new ruler never attended. And Sakura was even more surprised, she wasn't planning on this happening, she thought that she couldn't stand the sight of the man who wrecked her life, the man whose eyes she only met once, when he pierced her abdomen so easily yet forcibly. She wanted to leave so badly, however her feet were grounded to the floor. Her mind blanked and her expression was certainly of shock.

Looking at her left, her heart constricted and she couldn't breathe, she watched as the Daimyō of the Land of Fire entered the room. And he looked…mighty. Like in time of war, he still was clad with his red armour, surely an affirmation of the power he detains. That same power that radiates from him like waves, that was so present that it filled the air, made her knees tremble and her throat tighten.

At first it started with a glance

"Land of Fire has been doing greatly" His voice rang strongly in her ears. "But still, it is only the beginning." As he paused a heavy silence filled the vicinity. Feeling a piercing gaze on her person, she lifted her eyes and was met by Madara Uchiha's sharingan, always his sharingan. Swallowing despite the lump in her throat, the medic couldn't move her sight.

How could a man so deadly, be so heavenly beautiful?

How could eyes so dangerous, be so hypnotizing?

And how could her destroyer make her core quiver?

Terrified but still entranced.

Hating yet wanting.

Way too deep in her thoughts, she did not listen to what was said, when the meeting finally came to an end, she gathered all the will she could and hastily exited the room. Focusing on keeping her pace calm, her mind reminded her of all the things she wanted to forget. Yet vigorously, engraving those so hard still so beautiful eyes that belonged to the man she was convinced she resented with all her might.

Opening her door not long after leaving that morning, she was plunged in the comfort of her everlasting dark home. Her blinds always closed, it made her feel safe and unbothered by the outside world.

As she walked blindly heading to the bathroom, she discarded her clothes, then entered her shower, hot water raining on her. Undoing her ponytail, rose long hair fell on her back. It grew so long in the past year, because she refused to cut it, after all she wasn't the same Sakura.

As water poured on her, she couldn't feel the tears on her cheeks. A shinobi as strong as her, who holds death and life between her hands, felt so helpless that even breathing was a hard task. Strong sobs escaping her mouth, she fell to the cold tiled floor of her shower, thinking about everything she yearned for and everything that was lost. Her parents died, her best friend died, her sensei died and her shishou died. Her whole life died, and she felt utterly and deeply alone in this way too immense world.

Yet her heart couldn't help but jump at the thought of those lethal eyes.

Grabbing her robe, she headed to her bedroom, when she felt a cold sensation on her neck.

"How?" Silence met her question, she continued voice low like a breeze: "Why are you here?"

Tightening the hold on her robe, she couldn't help but tremble at the feeling of the menacing gaze on her. Turning her head to meet the intruder, she watched him as he approached, his pace calm and poised, like a predator meeting his pray. When he finally stood in front of her, towering her small frame, her feet stuck to the floor unable to move, she could look at him as the first time, and he was nothing like it.

He was human, yet godly.

Aware of their proximity she gulped. Her heart beating so fast until it came to a halt, when her cold cheek was met by his warm hand. Raising her eyes as her throat constricted and her eyes watered, she looked at his abnormally black eyes.

As a sob escaped her mouth, and her thoughts clouded her sanity, she said with a tortured voice, barely heard: "What do you want from me?"

Thoughts of how normal he looked, here within her living room, in her small dark apartment. Thoughts of how he still fitted even though he looked out of place with his armour, as if he was heading to battle and maybe he was. Thoughts of how even though she barely knows him, he felt oh, so familiar. Thoughts of how even though he is from past times he felt so present. And that even though she was sure she loathed him, she couldn't help but feel oddly calmed by his presence.

"You"

And he left.

Leaving her, waiting, unknowingly wanting.

In her bed that same night, she couldn't stop her hand from resting on her cheek, longing for that strong hand that not long ago rested on her face, even caressed it, a motion so insignificant yet so meaningful. And as guilt struck her gut, a small feeling of hope bloomed in her heart.

The next morning, she received a missive, she was to head to the capital of Fire.

And it was nothing like Konoha.

The first thing that Sakura noticed, is how busy the streets were. The Capital of Fire was nothing like Konoha. Even the atmosphere was different, Chakra was everywhere, however it was barely noticeable, whereas in the shinobi village it drowned everything. Marching, by the many stalls of the large alleys, the female gawked at every new thing she saw. She travelled a lot as a ninja, but it was only to achieve a goal, never did she regard things that weren't relevant to her missions. But now it was different, this place was going to be her new home.

"Ano… are you searching for something?" Startled, Sakura quickly turned to see the person addressing her. Scrunching her eyes at the teen boy, clearly a civilian.

"Yes, I want to go to the hospital" Her answer was brief, a sign of distance. The perhaps 14 years old boy stretched his arm pointing left "You have to go straight, then turn by the flower shop" Preparing to leave she heard "But who are you?" She stared at him, deciding if she should answer or not, she tilted her head "Sakura". Then left.

After three long hours of introductions to the staff, a tour of the hospital and her own office, the konohagakure ninja was finally shown to her new apartment. And it was everything she preferred. The young nurse who took her to it said something about that… It wasn't big, rather tinier than her last one, surely something to do with the crowded city. Although small, it was comfortable, not too much sunlight, in a calm and silent alley, a reasonable sized bedroom leading to a strangely all blue bathroom, everything she appreciated.

After a shower and a brief meal, Sakura stood before her window staring at where she was to head the day after. Weirdly enough, she had a clear view of the Damiyō's headquarters. Taking a sip from her now cold tea, she thought about her last encounter with him, hand tightened around the cup, what exactly happened that evening ?

That night she closed her eyes thinking about a red armour, a black mane and a sometimes black or red eyes.

Tomorrow was promising.

Standing in front of the meeting room- that's what they called it- Sakura was quickly briefed about what was going to happen, she was to enter, sit in her designated place and wait for their nation's leader to arrive. What she wasn't expecting, was him being already there. Thinking she was late, she looked around the room, some of the seats were still empty, he was just early.

When she sat in her seat she looked everywhere but him.

Finally, when everyone arrived, the woman standing beside him spoke.

"As we are gathered here, we have among us a new member of the department heads who couldn't come earlier due to the clashes with south" Lifting her head the newly arrived shinobi looked at the speaker, a young woman, her age by all means, wearing a red, wave patterned kimono, hair black held in a tight bun. "Sakura Haruno will be the new head of the hospital."

And that's when she noticed Madara's smirk. It was beautiful.

Everyone was openly staring at her, waiting for her to speak, judging her. And she felt extremely little. Although she was far from it. She was Haruno Sakura. Clenching her fist on her black pants. She looked at every person sitting around the table, a shadow of defiance and fierceness in her eyes. Slumping back in her chair, she didn't even bother to say anything.

And with that simple move, of nonchalance, she established her power, reminding them, him, who she was, not forgetting who she is.

This time she saw it coming.

When she entered her home, he was already there, standing in the same spot she was in yesterday, before the window. And even in this new place he still looked like he belonged, in her place, her home.

He didn't turn when she stared lengthily at his back.

"What the hell do you want from me?" she said without thinking, surely she was forgetting who she was addressing.

After a long silent, of her standing in the middle of the room, her bag still in her hand and hair damp from the sweat of the training she just went through , after her shift at the hospital, he finally bothered to properly look at her.

She wished he did not.

This time his eyes were red.

Like last time, he approached her like a predator, and like last time she was his prey.

This time, in the darkness of her sombre apartment, he grabbed her chin, forcibly yet delicately, tilting her head back, making her eyes meet his, and her knees trembled, instinctively she grabbed his arm. She couldn't remove her hand, knowing that she will fall if she did so, also not caring. Too focused on his eyes, those red and black patterned eyes that made her suffer so much. Yet for the few moments she met them she learned to love them too. But no matter how much love she bore for them she was unable to obliterate what they did to her. The hurting they caused her.

Biting her lip and clenching her fingers around his bicep as she remembered how her heart wrenched for what she lost, she gathered her thoughts together, trying to escape his grasp, unaware oh how much she wanted to stay right where she was. He sighed.

"I want what you want."

It took her quite a moment to register his reply.

Still confused, she observed as he slowly yet surely, brought his head closer to her neck, stiffening she waited and waited then waited. Finally she felt him, or rather his nose on her sensitive neck .

Too shocked to move, her eyes wide open, she could only shiver, as his mouth replaced his nose, soon ascending towards hers.

And all along she felt the need to cry, not from dislike of his actions, rather because of the pleasure she took from it.

Avoiding her lips, she felt his tongue brush a tear she unknowingly shed.

"I know what you feel, but I also know what you want." He whispered in her ear.

And with all the resolve she could assemble, as a sob once again escaped her mouth, she tried naively pushing him. His cue to strengthen his hold on her.

Because he knew what she really wanted.

Openly weeping, her fists met his chest, continually and endlessly, in a failed attempt to show him her spite, her rancour, her hatred.

And he let her do so.

With a stoic face.

With patience.

Letting her release the heaviness from her soul.

For a while, all that was heard was her stifling crying and the subtle sound of her hands colliding with his torso.

Until she got tired of it.

Opening her lids, lifting her face, still cradled in his hand, calloused yet soft, she met his eyes, still red.

And she saw him.

Finally, she saw Madara Uchiha, not the massacrer, not the man who destroyed her, not the man who waged a war on her life. She saw Madara Uchiha, the founder of her world. A human after all.

And with a clouded mind, certainly because of it, parting her lips, putting a hand on his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes she, hesitantly but surely, joined her mouth to his.

How could an action as simple as kissing, bring so much emotion upon a person?

It felt like heaven, maybe, a small part of her thought, it was better than heaven.

What was first a shy movement, transformed into an irrevocable passion. As he, with a motion devoided of delicacy, grabbed the back of her head, and clashed his lips on hers.

Oh how she loved it, marching on heaven.

Lips still connected, the red eyed man planted his fingers in her tights, probably leaving a bruise, bringing her up. Naturally, she put her hand on his cheeks, trying to get the most of that kiss. Moving them to what maybe was the bedroom, he kept her in his grasp, holding her firmly, despite knowing she will not get away. And after what felt like ages, he broke their kiss. Making her yearn for it. Panting, her chest constricted when the source of her pleasure landed on a so sweet spot on her neck.

Head thrown back, eyes wide, fixing the ceiling, her stomach quivering from a sensation she never felt. A whimper escaping her mouth, she felt the need to touch more of him. Thus she attempted to rid his body of the red armour. Unsuccessfully, unfortunately for her.

Recognizing her wish, by a flick of his hand, it fell to the floor. Revealing his upper body.

And once again, she was entranced.

Still, cradled in his arm, he swiftly cut out her soaked black training shirt, exposing her chest bindings.

And Sakura, with a surge of courage, and also need, passed her hand through his hair, kissing her way down to his collar.

She heard a grunt. Then felt the grasp on her thighs tighten.

Soon her trousers followed her shirt, again torn.

Not realizing immediately her state, she continued to touch him, feel him, enjoy him, thrive in him.

Until his hands rested on the small of her back, just above her panties, caressing her.

Suddenly halting, gasping, her hair cascading between them as her head slumped forward from realization.

Sakura in only her underclothes, Madara in only his pants. Them, standing nearly naked, in the middle of her bedroom. He, the object of her most profound regrets, the source of her greatest remorse.

However, he was not having it.

Lips on her jaw, she felt his slowly ascending hand, brush every inch of her, reach the edge of her bindings. Now, fixing her green eyes filled with apprehension, he proceeded to untie the knot holding them together. And when the white bandages descended to the floor, he still studied her irises. Her mouth rounded just as she felt the cold dusk air graze her bosom, nipples hardening. Mechanically, unthinking, she pressed their chests together, seeking refuge.

Feeling the change, his already obscure red eyes darkened.

Calmly, her small frame still in his embrace, he surely headed toward the edge of the room. Depositing her slowly on the futon.

Too slowly for a man of his nature and for a woman too eager.

There, she sat, waiting expectantly. Watching him, standing before her, in all his stature, as he scrutinized her. His gaze was so heated she felt it burn through her, on her. As it went from her hair, so long it rested on the mattress, covering her back, to her lips she was biting from anticipation, then her slender neck now veiled with spots of a bluish hint. Hearing his groan, and feeling his stare she became aware of her state of exposure. Cheeks darkening with a red hue, she hastily brought her arms to her chest, in an attempt to cover what was already uncovered.

Strangely, a whisper of chuckle run through the chamber.

Surprised, she lifted her head, to see him approaching.

And this time she was undeniably his prey.

Long hair falling behind his back, hard chest uncovered, clad in only his black pants, eyes red. She yearned for the man she thought she hated.

And as if he was moving in the slowest possible pace, she could capture every movement of his muscles, every bend, every strain. She couldn't get her eyes away from him, captivated by him. She could only observe as he lowered himself to her, knees now planted beside hers, as he delicately removed the hair from her shoulder exposing her neck. That same shoulder he kissed, softly, moving to her collarbone.

Then, eyes still red, always red, he fixed her green ones which were still glossed. He took her elbow in his hand, separating it from her chest, gently but surely. And still studying her eyes, eyes full of apprehension, trepidation, he took her hand in his, bringing it, palm out, to his mouth.

And it felt so gentle, so sweet and soft, so human… That her eyes brimmed with tears.

Kissing softly his way upward, he arrived at her collarbone, then descended to her now exposed breasts. Straightening, he delicately pushed her, till her back was on the thin futon. There, he took his time looking at her. And although she felt the need to put her arms back, she resisted it. The look in his eyes kept her from doing so.

After what felt like a lifetime, he continued his trail of wet pecks and heavy kisses, finally reaching her bosom where he licked, bit and mangle, his hands touching, kneading, stroking.

And everything was heaven.

Never has she felt a sensation of this sort, weak, vulnerable, fragile, yet eager and wanting.

Hungry.

For him.

For something she has never experienced.

And as he continued his relentless assault, she felt an unmistakable dampness between her legs. Desperate, rubbing them together felt like the only way to relieve her craving. But, the man of all her desires, prevented her, thus she could only whimper, waiting.

Sensing her urge, he only stalled and leisurely, continued his path downward, passing her navel, bruising her skin, marking her, branding her. As she, at last, felt him arrive at the edge of her panties, she held her breath, raising her upper half, curious, she could only be a spectator, as he, while fixing her eyes, removed her last piece of clothing, unveiling her to him, to the world.

And she could only let herself fall back, as she saw and felt his smirking face ascend. There, teasingly, avoiding the pink covered mound, focusing on her inner thighs, where he once again, certainly left a bruise.

And it went on, on and on and on. Making her desperate, longing, restless.

He only stopped his assault when he left her body totally bruised.

And her, breathing heavily, craving so much, she could only whimper and grip the sheets in her fist, so hard her knuckles went white.

And when she felt like bursting, when it felt like she could take no more, he at last obliged.

Sanity hazy, she could only react as he captured her lips between his, in a kiss, different this time, filled with hunger, wildness and perhaps a hint of viciousness. His cue to bring his hand to the place that needed it the most.

Her entire body shivered when his fingers brushed against her nether lips, it was so intimate she could only dwell in the kiss they were sharing. And when he skilfully parted her to find her most sensitive part, she could only throw her head back and involuntarily thrust her hips up as a moan slipped through her mouth. Only making him reinforce his ministrations, as, slowly but surely, he pushed his digit in her, with a smirk pressed against her jaw. A smirk that disappeared immediately. Still plunged in a deep daze of pleasure, discovering a whole new feeling, she was surprised when she felt him move away, a bit, only a bit. Soon cupping her face in his large hand, he looked at her with a hint of surprise on his face.

"You're untouched"

Stunned, she was utterly stunned. She had not thought about it, completely putting aside her lack of experience . Eyes wide, unable to form a word, she observed as his expression morphed, a determined expression settling on his face.

When he reconnected their lips, she could only eagerly oblige to his kiss, and only dwell in pleasure as for a second time he aptly thrusted his digit in her folds, this time softer but more driven. And it was wonderful.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him as he observed her face distorted with pleasure. Feeling the urgency to get closer to him-he whom, at the moment, is so close yet feels so distant-she hesitantly started caressing his face, from his cheek to his lips, hypnotized, focused. From his face she went to his neck, putting her hand on his pulse, sensing his heart beating, then to a red spot marked by her teeth. And she could only marvel when her hand reached his chest above his heart, where she traced the black fan inked on it. It was beautiful.

When the pleasure was too much to bear, when the knot on her stomach started to pulsate, she put her hands on his back, grabbing him for support, begging him to help her, to keep her from drowning. But it was inevitable, as she was being submerged, gasping for air, she could only dig her nails on his back, later, red paths will be showing on it. A loud moan coming from her lips was followed by a faint cry of his name.

Not letting her recover from his great assault, she felt him shift, moments before hearing a muffled sound of something being thrown on the floor. Parting her legs, Sakura's eyes went wide when she felt his hard member against her legs, fear apparent in her hooded gaze, she watched as he put her left foot on his back, opening her more, revealing her more.

In a surge of delicacy, he put his forehead against hers, as he broke into her, easily yet mightily, with one thrust of his hips.

Taking her, taking all of her.

And, when she felt herself break she could only cry out as a lone tear escaped her. A tear Madara immediately disposed of, softly kissing her cheek.

In her he felt foreign, yet belonging, as if he was in the proper place. Moments after his initial thrust, when the pain started fading, he repeated his action. Again one whole and full thrust. Impaling her. Tearing her apart. His hold on her hips tightening, as a groan escaped his clenched lips, face buried in her neck. Whilst hers turned towards the ceiling, chin high, feeling, savouring, thriving in the pain and the fullness. Hands clawing at his back and clenching the sheets beneath her. And then, finally, after a particular lunge, she felt a hint of pleasure, that grew, then bloomed and dug her feet on his behind, feeling the thin sheen of sweat and the hardened muscle shifting with every movement he made.

Discerning the change, he continued, and went for that same spot that made her eyes roll back, again and again and again. Thrusting deeper, profoundly and brutally.

Eyes meeting, lips meeting, hips meeting, he took her utterly, entirely and irrevocably.

And in between all of it, in a surge of clarity, opening her eyes she realized…

It was sinful.

She knew it.

Still… She craved it.

Shamefully, shamelessly.

And in between all of it, he reminded her where she belonged.

With a bite on her neck, a clench on her hip, a pinch on the nub between their now entangled legs and a forceful, vicious thrust, he made her scream his name, coming roughly, powerfully.

Falling deep, into his threshold.

Still, he continued, pushing into her vividly, violently, making her scream, branding her, staining her, bringing her to another orgasm, one she didn't think she could handle. And it went on, until with a muffled grunt into her neck, and one final thrust, she felt as he filled her with his warmness.

Too drained, too fatigued, she instantly fell into a profound slumber.

Waking up to the dim light of the full moon, she felt the cold air on her body, entering from the slightly opened window. Disoriented, she sat up on the futon instantly feeling colder. She only grasped what happened earlier, when she lifted her eyes to see the man who ravaged her, standing in her bedroom's entrance. Clad in his pair of dark pants, he studied her confused form calmly. Hastily grabbing the sheet, eyes widening from realization, she covered her naked chest.

A heavy silence fell on them, yet her mind ran with thousands of thoughts. After a while, she, without looking at him, hair shielding her from him, from her world, she whispered, so low that it was barely heard, voice scrapped from the night before,

"Please leave"

And he did, not looking once behind, face impassive as always.

And before he passed her apartment's door, he heard her burst with heavy sobs, wails filled with disgrace.

It seemed like hours have passed since she broke down, the sheet she was covering herself with was now soaked with tears. And even though she had cried until her tears dried, she felt a sort of anguish that she has never experienced before. Because she wasn't angry at anyone, she was resentful of herself, she loathed herself.

Guilt crawled up her skin like millions of ants, digging themselves in her soul.

How could she?

How?

With a man she thought she hated just weeks before.

With the man that devastated her life.

And as much as she wanted to hate Madara Uchiha, she couldn't, because she still could feel his gaze on her, his hands on her, his lips on her. She could still feel how his touch felt, how his breath felt against her neck, how when he kissed her she felt like she was marching on heaven, and how heaven couldn't compare to the feeling of having him in her.

He was addictive.

She resented herself for it, yet she could only want more, more of him, always wanting, forever wanting him.

Hi!

Let me know what you think of the relation between Sakura and Madara in here. My purpose was to portray a gloomy but strong Sakura and a distant yet engaging Madara, it was a little challenging to try making him not ooc, tell me your opinion.

It would make me so happy if you left your review, sharing your thoughts of it and if you would change/add something.