☆Recs and Reblogs☆

“do you think this one’s cute snookums?” you hold up a white frilly top that was actually really cute… but megumi physically writhed at the petname. “i think it’d look good on you.” you cringed once looking at the price tag, “it’s 38 dollars.” megumi shrugged mindlessly, “i have gojo’s card. i swear he likes you more than me, so he won’t question anything.” “oh i thought that was obvious… but thank you snookums!!!” you held the shirt by placing its hanger on your index finger. you blinked once and it was gone. “say that again and you’re gonna pay with your nonexistent money.”

“pleaseee lovebug i need you to tutor me on this. i actually think my brain has been deep friend.” megumi felt a blood vessel pop in his head. despite that, he was taking out the respective textbooks and what not. you coo at him in a teasing tone, “aww my lovebug is so sweet to me.” “i’m actually gonna chuck a textbook at your head y/n.”

a small whimper left your lips— god you tasted so good. megumi dragged his hands along your sides, all the while sliding his tongue into your mouth just to pull away, teasing you. you looked at him with half lidded eyes, reconnecting your lips in a feverish manner. your hands raked through his navy hair, and you felt the grip of his hands on your waist grow even tighter. he pulled away with a smirk, noticing the shortness in your breath. he flipped the two of you over so that you comfortably laid on the bed while he was on his forearms, hovering above you. “so eager pretty girl.” you bring your hands down to his biceps, squeezing lightly. “just want you so bad, sugar-booger.” megumi sat up and his face dropped in an instant. he pressed his lips together tightly, raking a hand through his hair. “you’re actually gonna kill me one day.”

“you look nice… sweetcheeks.” you cocked your head back despite already looking at megumi through the mirror the two of you stood infront of. “what the eff did you just call me.” you say with furrowed brows, staring up at the poor boy. “i just wanted to play along with you! if i do it, it’s suddenly so wrong?” you bite back the laugh that’s threatening to fall from your lips any second now. he sighs (out of relief) realizing that you weren’t actually disgusted by him. “but i wasn’t playing about the other part. you look really pretty,” he mutters softly. you flash him a toothy grin, placing a hand on his cheek before giving him a quick peck on the lips. “and you’re so handsome— my amazing, wonderful, sexy, boyfriend!” he mirrored your smile, going in for a longer kiss, “i’d take that over bug-a-bear or whatever you said a couple days ago.”

you snorted at his words, “okay now let’s go! we haven’t gone on a dinner date in weeks!!” he took your hand, intertwining it with his before squeezing three times, “okay, my sweet, beautiful, headache of a girlfriend.”

notes: can i have a megumi in my life, please and thank you.

He never meant to come back.

It was foolish—no, reckless—to even step foot inside Konoha again, but the pull was unbearable. Like an ache woven into his very bones, a longing so deeply ingrained that ignoring it became impossible. He only meant to look, to confirm that she was alive, breathing, existing beyond the bloodstained past he had left behind.

He never expected this.

Her house is smaller than he remembers, tucked away in a quiet corner of the village, untouched by time or war. The same curtains sway against the open window, the scent of chamomile tea and lavender drifting in the air, as it always did when she was still his.

She sleeps curled on her side, chest rising and falling in a soft, rhythmic motion, utterly unaware of the shadow standing in her doorway. Moonlight spills across her features, and for a fleeting moment, Itachi allows himself to feel. To imagine a life where he had never walked away, where he had never—

Then he sees it.

A small, sleeping form beside her, tiny and peaceful, half-hidden beneath the blankets.

His breath stops.

For a long, excruciating moment, his mind refuses to process what his eyes are showing him. He stares, unblinking, heart hammering against his ribs, and-

No.

No, it’s not possible.

And yet, as his gaze roves over the child’s face, as he notes the shape of their small nose, the curve of their jaw—he knows. The realization slams into him like a kunai to the chest, sharp and merciless, ripping apart every carefully constructed wall he had built around himself.

A child.

His child.

The air leaves his lungs in a quiet, barely-there exhale. His fingers tighten against the fabric of his cloak as something unnameable, something he has not allowed himself to feel in years unfurls in his chest.

He wants to move closer, needs to, but his body betrays him, rooted in place by the sheer weight of this discovery.

And then, she stirs.

He watches, helpless, as her lashes flutter open, as her body shifts ever so slightly, until her eyes meet his.

For a single, fragile moment, there is nothing but silence.

Then—

-…Itachi?

Her voice is barely above a whisper, raw with disbelief, with something dangerously close to hope. She pushes herself up on her elbows, blinking rapidly, as if afraid he will disappear if she looks away.

He should leave. He must leave.

But he doesn’t.

He stands there, immobile, as she rises from the bed, as she step closer, the distance between the two shrinking with every hesitant breath. He does not flinch when she reaches for him, fingers ghosting over his sleeve as if testing whether he is real.

And then, softly, brokenly, she says it.

-You have a son.

His entire world tilts on its axis.

The words land like a blade to the heart, sharp, irreversible, and everything inside him stills. The years of discipline, of cold, unshakable control... It all unravels in an instant.

-…When?- His voice is hoarse, barely above a breath.

She swallows, fingers tightening against the fabric of his cloak. -I didn’t know,- she admits, voice thick with emotion. -not until the night you— She falters, and he knows what you mean. -the night he killed them all. I— Her gaze flickers to the child still sleeping soundly, unaware of the storm raging between her. -I couldn’t tell you. You were gone.-

Gone.

Gone, and yet here he is, standing before her, a man who does not belong to this life anymore. A man who has condemned himself to a path that has no place for love, for family, for—

His child.

His breath shudders. He forces himself to look, to really look at the small body curled beneath the blankets, to take in the tiny hands, the soft hair, dark, like his own.

A part of him. Left behind without his knowledge.

A part of him that should not exist, and yet—

-I didn’t tell anyone,- she continues, softer now, as if afraid speaking too loudly will shatter the fragile moment between them. -No one knows. Just me.-

And now, him.

The weight of it is suffocating, but he cannot move. Cannot breathe, cannot think.

She searches his face, desperate, looking for something... Anything. -Say something,- she whispers.

He doesn’t know what to say.

Because this was never meant to happen.

Because he should not have come back.

Because the child sleeping mere feet away is the one thing in this world he cannot have.

But she is still looking at him, still waiting, and despite everything—despite the agony tearing him apart from the inside out—he cannot deny her this.

So he reaches out.

Slowly, hesitantly, his fingers brush against her cheek, the first touch in years, the first time he has allowed himself the selfishness of feeling her beneath his hands. Her breath hitches, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he allows himself to imagine—

A different life.

One where he never left.

One where he could kneel beside the bed, trace his fingers over his son’s small hands, press a kiss to her forehead, and whisper:

I am here.

But that life does not belong to him.

So instead, he lingers—just for a second longer. A second too long.

And then, with the gentlest touch, he pulls away.

Her eyes widen. -No—

-It’s better this way.- His voice is soft. Resigned.

She shakes your head, hands clutching at his cloak, as if she can hold him here, keep him from slipping away like a ghost in the night. -Itachi—

-I should not have come.

A lie.

He had to come.

She doesn’t let go. -Stay.-

His heart clenches.

He cannot.

Instead, he does the only thing he can do.

He memorizes.

The shape of her lips. The warmth of her hands. The faint, lingering scent of chamomile and lavender. The steady rise and fall of his child’s breath.

And then—

“you don’t have to do this.”

neji leans into your touch—almost imperceptibly so—as you take a seat at the bed’s edge. his usually steadfast demeanor gives way to fatigue, his voice tinged with weariness. after leading a team of shinobi through a grueling two-week mission, you can sense that he’s more inclined to follow your lead for once. and you intend to stretch this fleeting opportunity into a comforting reprieve.

“it’s okay,” you respond without hesitation, planting a kiss on his temple. “let me take care of you.”

with delicate precision, your fingers work through his hair, separating it into neat sections. the smooth comb glides through the soft strands, untangling the knots that have accumulated. you all but point out how his hair gets tangled so easily, tease him for the long, careful hours he spends brushing it.

but as you watch him sink deeper into relaxation, his features softening, your chest fills with a warm fondness that spreads to the rest of your body. his eyes flutter closed. the tension in his shoulders gradually dissipates, and a soft sigh of contentment escapes his lips, breaking the comfortable silence.

and gods, this may be the sweetest thing you’ll have the privilege of seeing.

as the sun sets, a vibrant mix of red and orange hues paints the sky, with sunlight streaming through the window and casting shadows. you gently place the comb down and run your fingers through his hair; his spine tingles. moving down, your hands apply firm, but gentle pressure to his temples, rubbing steady circles. after such extensive use of his byakugan, his head must be aching.

“i missed you,” you breathe, puckered lips touching the top of his head. pausing in your massage, you take his hair tie and put his hair back into its usual low ponytail before continuing. a glinting mirth dances in your eyes when he fully melts into your touch, a soft moan slipping from his lips.

neji hums in response, more intent on focusing on the way your fingers eliminate the pulsing throb that has been wracking his head ever since he returned home. the intimacy makes him feel like he’s floating, an all-encompassing peace that settles deep into his bones, a deep-seated calm that he’s always sought.

it’s something so simple, and yet it makes his heart race in his chest. perhaps it’s the knowledge that you love him so much you would dote on him in such a way. or maybe it’s the way you make him feel so vulnerable with just your touch and a few whispered words. but regardless, it’s an intoxicating combination of love and affection that makes him want to repay you and make you feel the same heady mix that makes his head spin.

the faint remnants of incense fill the air and the sun soon gives way to the moon. turning to face you, neji moves to sit next to you, one hand cradling your cheek and the other one holding your waist. without a word, he places a tentative kiss on the center of your forehead, trying to let it speak to the unspoken words that always sit at the tip of his tongue.

to the fact that you have carved a place deep into his heart.

emboldened by the responding hum from you, his lips trail down to the tip of your nose, gentle like the slap of a butterfly’s wings. you look at him through half-lidded eyes, anticipation thrumming through your veins, your fingers gripping the fabric of his loose shirt. his forehead rests on yours, the scant distance between you making you acutely aware of his breath that tickles the top of your lips. his gaze carries a quiet intensity as he takes you in and you find yourself falling deep into his stormy, iridescent gaze.

only neji can draw out such sparks from you. only he can make you so weak from a single look.

and when you close the distance, your eyes finally flutter closed and your skin tingles with a want that only grows with each press of his mouth. his lips feel soft, almost pillowy against your own. a faint moan escapes as bittersweet notes of green tea flood your senses when your tongues touch.

what was once a sweet kiss quickly spirals into one of fervency. the hand that’s on your cheek moves to your hair, fingers tangling within the strands and pulling you in closer. as if he didn’t want any space to come between you. neither of you stays separated for long, quickly being drawn back to his lips.

again. and again. and again.

it’s an impassioned push and pull, one that makes you crave more of him. your arms wrap around his neck as you push him onto the bed, noses bumping and teeth clicking as you settle on top of him. your fingers lightly tugging on his hair pulled a light groan from his lips; it ignited every nerve ending, making you want nothing more than to coax more of those sweet sounds from him.

more. the word echoes in your head like a chant, growing ever louder with every lip-flex and muffled moan from both of you.

but as quickly as it comes, the moment cools. with great reluctance, neji pulls away, cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling with each pant. usually sharp and almost all-seeing, his eyes are unfocused, staring past you as he regains his composure. as you lay your head on the crook of his neck, you allow the calm to wash over you like a wave and relish in the warmth of his body beneath you.

neji pulls you down so that you’re laying on your side, now face-to-face. his fingers brush away the stray tendrils of hair away from your face, a tender smile curving at the corners of his kiss-swollen lips.

“i love you,” he says after minutes of blissful stillness. taking hold of your hand, he brings it to rest on his heart, letting you feel the effect you have on him.

a lazy grin brightens your features. you gently squeeze your intertwined hands. “love you too.”

the rhythmic beat of neji’s heart against your palm has you closing your eyes and the song of the wind chimes in the distance lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

“No way, you’re just being humble. You take it.”

“No, please, I insist.”

For a moment, the world seemed to pause in that gentle banter, and Obito visibly relaxed as the nervous tension ebbed away.

Then, with renewed energy, he suggested, “You hungry? We could grab some ice cream.”

The suggestion was innocent enough.

The thought made your eyes light up, and Obito silently noted that ice cream was indeed a perfect idea.

Before long, you found yourselves at a quaint cart. With careful deliberation, Obito chose your favorite flavor and led you to a nearby bench, both of you sharing quiet laughter and enjoying the simple delight of a cool treat on a warm day.

Just as the day seemed to be unfolding perfectly, fate took an unexpected turn. “Here we go- SHIT!”

Before either of you could react, his ice cream cone slipped from his grasp and tumbled onto your brand-new dress.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he muttered, panic threading his voice. As he scrambled to help you, he accidentally collided with you, his head meeting yours in a clumsy, painful collision.

“OW!” you cried, the sudden impact sending a shock through both of you.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he cried, stepping back in horror. That’s when he saw it, his headband had become tangled in your hair, its shiny metal now tugging at delicate strands and ripping a few away.

“OWW Obito! just w-” you began, but in his desperation to free your hair, every tug only drew another pained cry from you.

His heart sank with each sound as he fumbled to release you from the unintended torment. Eventually, he managed to free your hair, though not without leaving a noticeable patch of missing strands.

He stood before you, chest heaving as he held the evidence of his mishap in trembling hands, a small clump of your hair.

He fights back the urge to cry. He wouldn't even blame you if you never wanted to see him again, or got a restraining order out of fear for your safety.

The walk home was filled with awkward, painful silence. Obito draped his jacket over your stained dress in a feeble attempt to hide the ice cream mess, yet nothing could conceal the large red bump on your forehead from his accidental headbutt.

He glanced at you with sorrowful eyes, watching as you rubbed the tiny bald patch in your hair in a daze, staring straight ahead into nothing.

As you both reach your doorstep, his voice finally broke the silence, laden with remorse. “I…I’m so sorry, y/n. This was a disaster, and it’s all my fault. I just wanted to treat you to a nice time, I didn't mean for any of this to happen …”

You met his gaze, snapping out of your daze. “Please don’t hate me… I really like you, and I just didn’t want to mess this up.”

He sighed, a bitter chuckle escaping as he kicked a small stone along the sidewalk. “I planned this date for weeks. I saved up every penny because I wanted it to be perfect and I still messed it up. I’m sorry, y/n. This isn’t what I had in mind at all.”

You watched him as he apologised, unable to even meet your eyes.

You weren't mad, you certainly didn't hate him. You were more embarrassed if anything.

You mind replayed his words, how he planned the date for weeks and saved up all his money. You recalled how he skipped on any hangouts that required money, and how Kakashi made a joke about how he's surviving on cup ramen.

A smile slowly returned to your face. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened in surprised delight, and for a heartbeat, his anxious thoughts were replaced hope.

“Thank you, Obito. This was… something,” you chuckle.

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble. You’re so sweet”

His mind nearly went blank at your kindness. The fact that you chose to over look the terrible string of events that happened today and saw his efforts instead made his heart leap.

The Universe had definitely given him a second chance and he wasn't going to mess it up.

“Bye, Obito,” you said softly as you stepped into your apartment, leaving him lingering at your doorstep.

Then, right before the door closed, your voice floated back, “Oh, and Obito?”

He perked up, nearly tripping over his own feet as he shuffled closer to the door.

“I like you too.”

Obito freezes, his brain short-circuiting as you close your door with a giggle.

He waits for your footsteps to recede completely before he breaks out into a celebratory display.

That evening, Obito walks home like he was made of a million dollars, a slight skip in his step and bright grin on his face.

He headbutted me then got his necklace caught in my hair and instead of calming down, he freaked out and pulled out clumps of my hair 😭

Tiny taglist: @catlover19282

Based on a true story sadly, except I never called him back lol.

That shit hurt like hell and I still have a tiny bald spot along my hairline till this day 🥲

You always had a way of doing that, lifting him out of the deepest pits of despair he puts himself in.

You laugh, gently pulling the sheets down to reveal his sad, tired expression.

"Hey..." you say, brushing your hand over the scarred side of his his cheek.

"Hey..." He replies, freezing up when you touch his scars, his gaze anywhere but you.

"I was looking for you..."

He laughs under his breath, remembering your antics "I heard..."

"You know I'm so attracted to you right?"

He swallows, his bottom lip quivering as he glances at you.

"Obito, you're everything to me. I don't know what you did to me, but I only have eyes for you. Hm?"

You say reaching over to gently shake his shoulder, as if trying to shake your point into him.

He cracks a smile as he watches you shake him with a stern look on your face that he could only describe as cute.

"Ok ok...I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean to act like that..."

You sigh in relief as the cloud of sadness around him finally lightens up. You shuffle closer to him on the bed to hug him.

"It's ok. I just want you to remember you're all I want Obito, Inside out. I love you"

In that embrace, as his arms tightened around you, Obito allowed himself to feel the truth of your words. Despite the scars, the insecurities, and the nagging self-doubt, he silently thanked the universe for bringing you into his life.

In that quiet moment, with the soft rustle of the sheets and the comfort of your presence, he finally began to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was enough.

"I love you too"

His Loving Obsession • Naruto isn’t just obsessed—he’s everywhere. His sunshine demeanour means no one questions it when he’s constantly by your side, always checking in, always making sure you’re okay. But behind the smiles and laughter, there’s something darker—a need so strong it borders on suffocation. Every time you smile at someone else, every time you talk about your plans without him, his stomach twists, and that friendly grin becomes just a little tighter. • Naruto doesn’t just love you—he worships you. He remembers every little thing about you, from your favourite snack to the way you like your coffee. He’ll show up with small surprises—your favorite candy, a new book you mentioned in passing, a blanket because he noticed you shivering the other day. He’s always thinking about you, always looking for ways to make you smile. • Naruto is a master at making you feel guilty without ever outright saying it. If you spend time with someone else, his expression falls just enough to make your chest ache. “Do you really think they care about you the way I do?” There’s no malice in his voice, only a quiet vulnerability that makes your chest ache. He’s not trying to control you (or so it seems)—he just can’t bear the thought of losing you to someone who doesn’t love you as deeply as he does.

• His jealousy is weirdly explosive. If someone flirts with you, his entire demeanour shifts. The laughter stops, his voice drops, and his eyes harden. It's like he's a whole different person. He’s quick to insert himself between you and the “threat,” acting like the person speaking to you is some sort of strange pervert, making it awkward for everyone.

• Naruto’s love becomes all-consuming. His hugs are tight, his hands always on you—your waist, your arm, the small of your back. He needs the reassurance of your presence, needs to feel your warmth under his fingers. His kisses are soft but desperate, like he’s trying to pour all his feelings into every movement, whispering against your lips, “No one can take you from me, Y/N.” You're so bombarded by him that you have no space to ever question it.

His Toxic Obsession

• Shikamaru doesn’t just watch you—he studies you. Every word you say, every nervous habit, every glance you throw at someone else—it’s all meticulously catalogued in his mind. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses that knowledge like a weapon. When he speaks to you, it’s with a precision that leaves you reeling and self-doubting, his words cutting straight to the heart of your insecurities and desires. • He isn’t loud or obvious when he cuts people out of your life. He does it quietly, methodically, in ways you don’t notice until it’s too late. Maybe he “accidentally” forgets to tell you about a group hangout or makes plans that conveniently overlap with your commitments to others. Before you realize it, he’s the only constant in your life, the only person you can turn to. “See? It’s just us now. It’s easier this way.” • Shikamaru doesn’t need to raise his voice to control you. His calm, measured tone is enough to make you second-guess everything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Y/N? I mean, do what you want, but…” His words always trail off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. And when you do change your mind, he’s there with a lazy smirk, like he knew you would all along.

• When Shikamaru finally confesses, it’s not a plea—it’s a statement. “I’ve been patient with you. I’ve let you figure things out on your own, but it’s time you see what’s obvious.” His voice is low, steady, leaving no room for argument, your self-worth is so battered down from everything he's done you actually believe him, actually want to be with him.

• Shikamaru’s love is suffocating, an intricate web of manipulation and control that feels impossible to escape. But beneath the darkness, there’s an unsettling tenderness—a quiet devotion that makes you hesitate. “I only do this because I love you,” he says, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. And in those moments, you wonder if he truly believes it. If maybe, somehow, he’s convinced himself that this twisted, obsessive love is what you need.

His Unrelenting Obsession

• Sasuke’s fixation is nothing short of paralyzing. His eyes follow you everywhere, dark and unblinking, like he’s dissecting you piece by piece. It’s suffocating, the way he can hold you in place with just a look, his intensity seeping into every interaction until it feels like there’s nowhere to hide. He had never been so entranced by someone or something before you. • Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle anything—or anyone—that threatens his control. A co-worker who’s too friendly? Suddenly, they’re fired over a baseless rumour. A friend who tries to intervene? They start receiving anonymous threats. It’s never loud or messy; it’s surgical, precise. He’s a ghost in the machine, orchestrating your isolation with a chilling efficiency that leaves you wondering if you’re imagining it when he acts the same as he always does - cool and detached. • Sasuke would make you dependent on him without you even realizing it. He’d insert himself into every aspect of your life—your confidant, your protector, your only constant. When things fall apart (because he made sure they would), he’s the one picking up the pieces, whispering, “You don’t need anyone else. I’ll take care of you.” And in your weakest moments, it feels like the truth. • If you ever try to leave him, Sasuke’s calm exterior would shatter. He wouldn’t yell or beg—he’d act. Your phone? Smashed. Your keys? Gone. Every avenue of escape meticulously closed off until the only person you can turn to is him. His voice would drop to a dangerous whisper: “Everyone has left me. You don't get to do that, Y/N.” And when he says it, it feels like a vow—a terrifying, irreversible truth. • Beneath the darkness, there’s a twisted form of love—a desperate, all-consuming need to keep you safe, to keep you his. Sasuke genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good, that no one else could possibly love you the way he does. And in his mind, it’s not obsession—it’s destiny. You were meant to be his, no matter the cost.

His Devoted Obsession

• Kakashi’s tactics are subtle and insidious, cloaked in warmth and care. He’d insert himself into your life in ways that feel natural, like he’s just a dependable friend who’s always there when you need him, always appearing when things are going dire. But it’s calculated. Every comforting word, every thoughtful gesture, every perfectly timed “coincidence” is part of his plan to weave himself into the fabric of your life. “You looked a little overwhelmed, so I thought I’d step in.” • Kakashi convinces himself that his obsession is rooted in a desire to protect you, that it's normal he would be like this after everything that had happened to him throughout his life. If you’re in danger, he’s the first one there, stepping in with a calm authority that leaves no room for argument. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for you.” • His charm is his greatest weapon. He knows how to put you at ease, to make you laugh, to make you feel safe. His lazy demeanour and soft-spoken words hide the intensity of his obsession, lulling you into a false sense of security, that he would never do anything to hurt you. When he teases you, his tone is light and playful, but there’s an edge to his smile that makes your pulse quicken.

• Kakashi doesn’t need to be loud or aggressive to isolate you—he’s far too smart for that. Instead, he subtly plants doubt in your mind about the people around you. “They didn’t seem very supportive of you earlier, did they?” “Are you sure they have your best interests at heart?” His tone is so soft, so thoughtful and seemingly wise, that you don’t realize he’s slowly nudging you into relying on him alone. • He doesn’t see his actions as manipulative or controlling—they’re protective, necessary. “I can't lose you, not after losing everyone else,” he’ll say, his voice so soft and convincing that you genuinely believe him. But the truth is, Kakashi’s love is a cage, and no matter how warm and comforting it feels, it’s one you’ll never escape.

His Desperate Obsession

• He loves you so desperately, so tenderly, with full unrestrained love. It feels like you were swept off your heels by him and his intensity, the way he knew he wanted you from the beginning and the way you completely crumbled underneath him was almost pathetic. He loves you like no one has before, gifting you thoughtful things he knows you like, listening to everything you say with genuine interest. He protects you, no one bothers you whilst you're with him suddenly - and you don't quite understand. • Itachi carries the ghosts of his clan in every step, every breath, every calculated action. He’s spent his entire life sacrificing, losing everything to protect what he loves. But you? You’re something he can’t sacrifice, something he won’t. He tells himself that this time, he won’t fail, won’t let the people he loves slip through his fingers. This time, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, no matter the cost. • Itachi’s protectiveness goes beyond reason. He’s already failed once, letting his clan fall under his blade for the greater good, and he refuses to fail again. He doesn’t trust the world to keep you safe, so he takes matters into his own hands. The friend who’s too nosy? Gone without a trace. The ex who tries to reach out? Shows up in the news dead. You don’t see the strings he’s pulling, the shadows he’s working in, but the world around you becomes eerily smooth, free of threats. “You’re safe with me,” he’d say, his tone so calm, so certain, that you believe him. • His obsession is fuelled by guilt as much as love. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, not after what he’s done, but that only makes him cling to you harder. You’re his second chance, his proof that he can protect something without destroying it. He doesn’t tell you this—he doesn’t want to burden you with his darkness—but every glance, every touch carries the unspoken weight of his guilt. “You make me feel human again,” he’d admit in a rare moments of vulnerability. • If you ever tried to leave, Itachi wouldn’t react with anger or desperation. His voice would stay calm, his movements controlled, but there would be a finality in his words that makes your stomach twist. one that you know you can't resist because at this point he had made himself the top of the pyramid in your life. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. The world isn’t safe for you without me.” And if you push further, he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve already lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I won’t let it happen again. Not with you.”

His Masked Obsession