Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's affiliates.

A/N: I don't know why I'm doing this to myself but I've been obsessing over Madara and Sakura. I have fallen into a rabbit hole that is this ship and can't get out - and so I figured that there needs to be more fiction since I couldn't get this idea out of my head. This will probably be a story filled with interconnected drabbles, I hope you enjoy it.

MadaSaku

M.
This fiction will contain heavy, dark adult themes. If that makes you uncomfortable do not continue reading.

You Are My Fate
Past, pt 1

Destined

Feudal Japan
Uchiha Compound

xox

He grunted and twisted his hand in her hair, pulling her head back to expose the pale skin of her flesh and began to bite at her skin, leaving a mark that claimed her once again as his own. He bit down further, causing her to cry out and bite her lip to silence her soft scream - he was being rougher than normal.

By now he was inside of her, stretching her walls - claiming her.

His body moved with her own, her kimono had been pushed to the side - ripped and torn in his frenzy to fill her after his month long trip — he hadn't waited more than two minutes once he reached his quarters before calling on her. The maids had prepared her earlier in the day knowing that he would call on her after his long absence, the peace she found had been disrupted the moment he returned - his energy alone could silence a room, the whole compound had been working in a flurry to fix things to his preference.

"Ma-Madara-sama!" she protested, if not by pain than by the budding pleasure that was beginning to make her thighs quiver.

He hummed his appreciation of her, lifting her to sit herself on the edge of the table in his sizable room. Like clockwork she wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to thrust himself completely in her — causing her to curl her toes and melt into the lust that he harbored - her body willingly fell into the trap, her toes curled when he began to hit a spot that made her eyes flutter.

He bit down once more on her collar, "who do you belong to?" he hissed into her ear.

"Y-you, Madara-sama!"

Time slowed when he forcibly growled and plunged himself deeper, her body writhed as she began to contract — a hot fire liquified her stomach, her orgasm was on the edge of spiraling her into oblivion, she tossed her head back — pale locks of pink, opalescent hair cascaded down her back as she cried out her release, her walls clinging to him as sparks of white numbed her body.

He spilled himself inside of her, mirroring her release — together they fell into the pit of ecstasy with one another, bodies warm and submerged in the after glow of their orgasm. He traced his finger down the curve of her neck, eyeing the marks that he left on her —- they would bruise within the hour, but she wouldn't complain.

Sakura had been here for a year now.

And tonight she would be leaving him.

Originally, she had hoped that someday he would tire of her — or that she would get pregnant and be sent away by his prestigious family, to retire in a small village where most concubines lived together — past their youth and caring for the children of men that used their bodies.

Sea foam eyes stared up at his towering body, pale and perfect, as if a stone carver had worked tirelessly to create this statuesque body. Years of training and fighting — he dominated over her petite form as he dominated on the battle field. Oddly, she reached forward and touched a fresh scar covered in scabs that trailed down his abdomen, it was rare for him to get hurt.

"Did it hurt?" she questioned softly — it was unusual for her to linger around him, usually she strayed away until he called on her or spent her time in the gardens — idealizing her life before he bought her or planning a way to leave him.

For a small bracket of time he had captivated her. Enthralled her attention each night when he wanted her, and for a few months she fell into his arbitrary spell of thinking this brutal man held a heart sensitive enough for her to love.

Some days — on extremely rare instances they would lounge on the hillside when he requested her company, and for those days where he treated her as if she were a dove, they would indefinitely after turn into harsh days where he left her with bruises and words that betrayed his behavior.

In the beginning, she fought wildly against him — and she figured perhaps that was why he chose her and forgot about the others.

"Get out," he breathed into her ear, narrowly avoiding her question.

She didn't need to be told twice.

Sakura fixed her extravagant kimono and stood up — she could feel his seed begin to dribble and run down the length of her inner thigh.

"Come back in the morning, understood?" he fixed his pants — his strewn hakama had stains of blood on it, she hadn't noticed before. He must have fought quite a strong opponent to get harmed, his notoriety for bloodshed and war tactics were revered throughout the country — she crinkled her nose, death and sex permeated the air around him.

Her kimono flowed beside her and she bowed graciously, billowing the material — although her eyes held a newfound contempt for the warrior that had brought years of respect to his clan. With a peculiar eye he grabbed her jaw with strong fingers and dragged her face close to his, "don't think I don't notice the way you still look at me."

His dark, transfixed eyes promised pain — and she was sure he would call on her again before dawn broke.

xox

That night, a man with snow white hair rode in on horseback to retrieve her, Tobirama - the last letter her father had sent her mentioned his name. — Sakura had hoped Madara would wait another week before his return, her father had made a promise with the Senju clan to free her. On this particular night, the moon hung high in the sky with promises and whispers of freedom.

A cook in the kitchen had given her the note two nights prior, and at first she held uncertainties — unable to believe that she could leave the Uchiha compound. The night she had been taken from her village — the night that she had been stolen from her parents, chained and dragged into a war stricken area.

Sold to a slave trader — her exotic coloring earned her the unfortunate right to be sold as a concubine to the highest bidder — her virginity increased her worth.

On cold, harsh nights where the fire in her chamber barely fought the cold, she could remember standing there in nothing but a thin yukata that barely covered her breasts. Feasted on by the eyes of hungry men, he arrived in a light of glory — standing high above the men at the auction, his raven locks hung low at his hips. Dark, penetrating eyes forced her attention on him, and the auction ended only after he toyed with the other men into thinking that they could possibly win.

That day, Uchiha Madara had bought Sakura and claimed her that night as a prize for himself.

Drunk after a night of celebrating with his men - he was rough. He nearly broke her, but she bit him hard enough to sink her teeth into his shoulder and drew blood. He sent her away in a fit of anger.

This system would repeat for weeks.

He would take the other women to his bed instead of her.

Sakura thought she found a reprieve, she hoped that her behavior would allow her to be caste away because she was too difficult.

She had thought at one point that her stubborn tenacity would force Madara to give up on her, find another woman to warm his bed of those that he owned. That hope jostled to the floor when he sent away the other concubines.

He became determined.

Eventually, he took her purity.

Slowly, she learned to succumb to the pleasure that coiled in-between her legs.

Slowly, she opened up about her village — her parents, and the longing she had to see them once more.

In a moment of heart that she didn't believe he possessed, he found her father.

He allowed her to write to him, and her heart thawed in the incoming months for the war general.

The nights they shared together in bed - the daytime they spent understanding one another.

Although still rough, Sakura opened herself to his behavior.

It all ended rather quickly after a visit from his family, the whispers from his servants caught the attention of his father, the patriarch of the Uchiha clan - "...you need to divulge your attention on finding a suitable wife, not some whore that you bought after a victory," - Sakura had heard his father speak with him on the last night of his visit - she returned to her quarters and waited for him to call on her, but he never did.

Destined to be the leader of such a powerful clan - she understood the impending notion that a slave shouldn't be affiliated emotionally with someone like her. Instead, he would marry a woman of noble worth from another clan - much higher than her.

For a moment she thought that perhaps she could be happy simply being by his side - but the conversation changed him, changed their fate.

The last, wholesome memory they shared had fallen on the day of her birthday, spring had arrived and a new warmth settled over the compound.

"How many lives do you think we'll spend together?" she whispered into his ear one day when they sat beneath the cherry blossom tree in the garden, recently bloomed after shaking off the tail-winds of winter.

His arms were wrapped around her possessively, "enough to fill time until the moon and stars no longer rise and fall each night."

Author's Note:
Well, there it is.
Like I mentioned, this will be a series filled with connected drabbles that take us from Feudal Japan to present and back.

Let me know what you think! If you like it, if you're just as guilty for shipping them as I am. I'll continue if the response is big enough since I do have another story I'm currently working on as well.
Don't forget to leave a review or a fav/follow!