A/N: Welp, I wrote a test chapter/one shot a couple months ago and received such a lovely response that I couldn't help but want to write a full-length fic for it, and so we begin.

The age of the Shinobi was over.

No one knew how, or why it happened, but it happened quickly. Crumbed in an instant.

That was nearly a decade ago now–what felt like a lifetime ago.

Nations dissolved. Factions formed. Many, many died.

Plans of man, of grandeur, of world domination, they were all but cast aside in an effort to merely survive this new age–The Age of The Yokai.

There were no treaties, no political agreements to be had, not with these monsters. There was only hunger, insatiable and unending.

…_…

"Really…? This is her…?" Kisame muttered to himself, grimacing at the motionless body laying in the sand at his feet. Geez, he thought it was a fucking joke when he was told she'd have pink hair.

He nudged her side with his foot. Nothing.

Kisame had spent all this time tracking the supposedly illustrious kunoichi, getting splattered in nasty ass demon guts all along the way, just to find some… some slip of a woman who may or may not have already been a corpse?

Given the way the wind blustered, Kisame wagered she'd been lying there a couple hours with how sand half-covered her. Couple more and she might have been buried.

He leaned down to get a better view of her face. Her skin was totally baked, far pinker than her hair, and her lips were flaking, chapped to hell. Gross.

It would have been a fair assessment to say she dropped from dehydration if not for the dark, seeping wound on her side.

She looked like she'd been in the midst of administering some self-triage when the irresistible need for a nap arose. Her stained, limp fingers still draped over the unsightly gash. Her other hand was outstretched, loosely grasping some sandswept object that just barely protruded from the dry earth.

Hilt of a sword, maybe.

"Tch…" Kisame scoffed, impatiently leering at the woman's inert form. Just his fucking luck.

He sighed. "Alright, princess, time to see if you're still alive..."

Sakura awoke with a drawling groan. It was pure annoyance at first, she'd been sleeping after all, but it dipped into notes of relief at the cool kiss of water on her skin. It drenched her, and damn did it feel good. Weakly angling her head towards the spray, she opened her mouth, greedily gulping down all she could.

Oh, it gave life to her husk of a throat. She didn't even question where it was coming from, she just knew she wanted it in her mouth. The satisfied noises continued bubbling out of her as she gulped down the moisture she so desperately needed.

A deep chuckle sounded above Sakura and she tensed, tearing her head back and cracking an eye to see a blurry figure looming over her.

"Lucky me, she lives," they said, a deep, rumbling voice laced with humor.

Whoever it was sounded annoying already.

Survival Mode Sakura: Engaged

In a split second she was on her feet—never mind how wobbly they were—wrenching a massive object out of the sand. With a quick heave, it was thrust against Kisame's throat with surprising dexterity.

The blade edge hovered there, not even an inch from his lazily pumping carotid.

Kisame cocked an eyebrow, not at her, but at the sword itself. Gargantuan, especially in her grip.

"Long time, no see," he mumbled, his eyes sweeping down its length and settling on the wielder.

Welp. This woman just got a whole lot more interesting.

Kisame never once lost his smirk, but he did put his hands up in a show of good faith.

Faith wasn't really of importance to him though, maybe 'good intentions' was better suited? Even that seemed like it was going too far... Well, he wasn't planning on killing her anyway, so, ya know, whatever that was.

For a woman who appeared to be on death's door only a moment ago, she sure had a big fucking sword in her hand now—one that he was quite familiar with.

Kubikiribōchō. The late Zabuza's sword.

When and where in the nine hells did this woman get that sword, and how the fuck was she even holding it up?

Medical nin my ass, Kisame thought.

He needed to seriously chew out the person he got his info from. She'd been described to Kisame as a medical master. No way could that be true, not with her strength.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and at a glance, she seemed pretty fucking masterful with that blade. Seemed doubtful she'd found time for a second proficiency, young as she was.

Maybe she was more impressive than he initially gave her credit for though... The jury was out.

Sakura was sizing him up too, narrowed green eyes glinting as she did so.

The guy seemed vaguely familiar in a way she couldn't recall, so probably something back from the 'before' time. Everything was split into 'before' and 'after' the yokai came. It was an unspoken understanding.

A quick analysis said he was someone to keep at arm's length. She'd do one better and keep him at blade's length.

He checked off too many nope boxes for Sakura's liking. Monstrous frame, absurdly muscled, shifty eyes, stupid smirk, something creepy strapped to his back, an interesting approach to dental care… the list went on.

The blue skin and gills? Eh, that was neither here nor there. They were intriguing from a medical perspective, sure, but Survival Mode Sakura didn't care much for fascination.

Honestly though, the fact that he was traveling alone through Yokai territory spoke louder than all of that. Sakura recognized that she was alone too, but that was happenstance. Plus he didn't seem to have a scratch on him, so he was either one of them, or he was freaking strong.

The fact that he had a chakra signature indicated he was human though. Yokai didn't have chakra, they ate it.

It was a bit problematic. Hence, the sword.

"Who are you?" Sakura spat, trying to hide a pained wince, her side throbbing. She hadn't even been able to nullify the toxins before she lost consciousness, and she was inwardly cursing herself for it now.

Kisame glanced around them. "Welp, looks like I'm the guy saving your ass right now, but I usually go by Kisame," he offered up nonchalantly, a pointed smile stretching across his broad features.

Sakura pursed her lips. This guy was a cocky little shit.

"Right. Clever. Think I'll go with Kisame then, if you don't mind. So… you have water?" Sakura asked, licking her lips and opting out of pleasantries.

Kisame grinned. "Yeah, I've got water. Also, unrelated question, would you mind getting this fucking sword out of my face?" he asked, humorously polite considering the context.

Her eyes narrowed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yep, call me crazy. You want water, I want to keep my head. We all have our kinks. So what do you say, Kunoichi? Promise I don't bite."

Kisame said this knowing full well he was absolute shit at keeping promises, but she didn't need to know that.

Sakura scoffed because fuck him for almost making her laugh, now she had to cover it up with something. She looked him over, supposing if he'd wanted to kill her, it would have happened already.

Sighing, she lowered the blade that threatened to split his throat and rested it over her shoulder with ease… mostly. Even the smallest of movements caused a shooting pain in her side, and she did all she could to keep it from registering on her face.

"Well?" Sakura asked expectantly.

"Hm, no, sorry, probably not gonna find any wells around here. You know this is the desert, right?" Kisame asked, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

"Insufferable…" Sakura muttered to herself with another heavy sigh, hoisting up the executioner's sword effortlessly and thrusting it into the ground.

Kisame looked on, highly amused as this woman who was far shorter than the blade she wielded came stomping over to him with audacity for days, grabbing at the canteen secured to the front of his waist belt.

"Whoa ho ho, shouldn't you be taking me out for a drink first or something?" Kisame laughed, his arms still casually held up as he watched her unclip the water skin with frustration.

She ignored his comment, focused entirely on that sweet, sweet H2O. As soon as she loosed it from his belt she stepped back and uncapped it, tipping it into her mouth only to find a few drops left.

Kisame didn't bother holding in his boisterous laughter.

Sakura glowered at him. "I thought you said you had water?!" She chucked the canteen at his head and he side-stepped it easily.

"I do," he laughed. "It's just not in there."

"Well where is it then?!" She demanded, coughing partway through as if on cue to show how badly she needed a drink.

In all truthfulness, Kisame had no intention of withholding that information, but Sakura didn't even give him a chance to answer before she was practically climbing him in search of it.

Traveling through Suna, Kisame dressed light. A black sleeveless top stretched taut across his torso beneath a tattered, gray flak vest, black lightweight tactical pants tucked into bandages wrapping down his calves into his sandals.

His headband was long since lost and they weren't exactly in production anymore, but it was becoming more and more common for shinobi to have none, or even something a bit more homemade.

Just the idea of a village was somewhat of a relic now. You could never have that many people gathered at once anymore, the yokai would have a fucking field day. It'd be like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Kisame figured if he came across someone with a mist headband, he might kill them just to take it as a keepsake. He did miss his, oddly enough. Fuck that place though, even now he refused to go back there.

His attention was not on Kirigakure though, it was on the petite woman one step away from performing a fucking cavity search on him. Many of his belongings were now scattered across the ground as she tore through the various pockets and compartments of his vest.

She was now unzipping it entirely and tearing the whole thing off him.

Well shit, Kisame thought. He wasn't going to stop her. It wasn't all too torturous, after all.

She ran her hands over his torso quickly, feeling for anything hidden beneath the thin layer of clothing he did have. It was plain to see there was nothing but his own, um… impressively hardened musculature?

Ignoring that.

But he could have been using fuinjutsu to conceal it. Water was as good as gold in these parts, it wouldn't be all that crazy to want to hide it well.

Her fingers searched for any disruption in chakra, anything out of place that might indicate the presence of a seal. She checked methodically, nothing on his chest, abdomen, sides, back, shoulders.

Kisame thought to stop her, but he quickly thought better of it. Her fingertips had just the slightest hum of chakra to them. It had a lovely little tingling effect, especially when they ran down the bare skin of his shoulders and arms.

Nah, he'd let her keep looking.

Sakura, after deeming him devoid of any hidden seals, stepped back in a huff.

"Where is it?!" She finally demanded, wiping the sweat off her brow and crossing her arms over her chest.

Kisame performed a quick hand sign and extended one raised fist forward, middle finger shooting up, flipping her off with a grin.

"It's right here, Kunoichi. Geez, didn't look very hard," he tutted as a small spout of water fountained out from the tip of his middle finger.

Freaking jutsu water? She should have seen that coming. Her facial expression over the next two seconds were a freaking roller coaster of emotions.

Mad that he was flipping her off, furious that he was smiling about it, ecstatic because water, disgusted because Kisame water, but ultimately back to ecstatic because beggars can't be choosers and water.

Sakura's eyes trained on the way it glistened under the blaring desert sun. She didn't give it two seconds before she lunged at the near-stranger, grabbing ahold of his hand by the meaty base of his palm.

"Well okay then," Kisame murmured to himself, entertained by her sheer tenacity.

He couldn't help but spectate, enraptured by the ravenous state of this woman as she squeezed his palm like it would make more water come out. That wasn't really how it worked, but he humored her, increasing the pressure a bit.

She angled it towards her mouth and slurped from it loudly like he was a damn water fountain.

It would have been easy for Kisame to up the water pressure more, he could have practically blown the woman's fucking face off if he wanted to, but clearly she wasn't worried about that with the way her eyes were closed with something akin to pleasure as she drank from him.

It was odd, Kisame had never been in this very specific situation before, and he was somewhat surprised to learn something about himself. He may have just, in that very moment, developed a kink.

See, he very much wanted her to put that finger in her mouth.

Feeling slimy about it for an entire half a second, he considered his options on how he could make that happen.

The water pressure dwindled ever so slowly, and Kisame watched intently as the kunoichi's puckered lips steadily followed the source to the tip of his finger. Her eyes were still closed, she didn't even realize what was happening, he surmised.

What a fucking dope.

Her lips automatically touched against the rough skin of his finger. He thought that'd be it for sure, just a pseudo kiss against it before she realized the sudden physical pressure against her lips.

What Kisame did not take into consideration was the woman's all-consuming, desperate desire to fill herself like a fucking camel.

With a breath that just barely parted his lips and a knitting of his brows, Kisame watched unblinkingly as this woman's mouth wrapped around his finger tip and sank down past the first knuckle. He was practically hypnotized as he took in the scene, her sunburned cheeks hollowing as she applied a delicious suction around him.

He mentally noted her previously gross, chapped lips suddenly looked much more appealing around his finger like that, and he also realized, yes, this was definitely a kink of his.

Good to know.

Sakura was in heaven, or something close to it anyway. It felt like she could have drank for a day straight and it still wouldn't have been enough. She was drinking and drinking, fiendishly slurping down the precious liquid when the realization struck her–something was off.

Her lips had… had come into contact with more than just water, she was fucking sucking on something.

Sakura's eyes shot open.

Oh lord. Oh sweet fucking God. She was. She was and she didn't even know how long she'd been freaking doing it!

If you asked Kisame, it was not long enough.

"Oh my God!" Sakura shrieked, shoving Kisame away instinctually.

He was a little surprised when he actually stumbled back from it.

"Damn, Kunoichi, is that how you leaf folks say thank you? Gotta admit, I don't hate it."

"I-I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry!"

Kisame blinked. She was apologizing? What happened to the badass that drew a big fucking sword on him not even five minutes ago?

He quickly realized she had no idea he played any part in that little incident. She just thought she got a little too carried away and did that all on her own, and Kisame was more than happy to let her keep thinking this.

Kisame waved it off. "Don't sweat it, happens all the time."

Sakura scoffed incredulously. "Tch, yeah, right…" She trailed off, leering at him. "Hey, wait a minute… why didn't you stop me!?"

"Seemed like you liked it well enough, wasn't exactly hurting me." He shrugged.

Kisame quite enjoyed how flustered she seemed by his answer and the situation as a whole. It was well worth it, plus it seemed like he'd gotten away with it relatively scot-free. He'd definitely be thinking about the way her lips wrapped around his finger later though, how her cheeks looked as she sucked him down.

He felt something dormant in him begin to rise and realized with a sigh that he should probably stop thinking about that until he was alone and could deal with himself.

"Well next time, stop me, will you?" she chastised, irritated.

Kisame raised a brow, smirking. "Next time?"

Sakura opened her mouth to say something before snapping it shut, instead opting for a harsh scraping noise in her throat. She was obviously flustered as she ran a hand through her hair but jerked, freezing mid-movement, wincing and grabbing at her side.

Tilting his head, he regarded her and the obvious wound she'd been pretending was just a little boo-boo.

"Nasty little gash you got there," Kisame noted with a whistle.

"Yeah, no shit…" Sakura agreed, hissing as she pulled her flak vest off and tugged up the shirt. It looked gross before, the blood and viscera drying on the fabric, but this was just putrid.

It was the ichor that did it. Dark, purplish veins spiderwebbed out from the epicenter of the dark, oozing wound with spots of yellowish-white puss developing at the edges. Even Kisame pulled a face looking at it, with his keen nose he could smell it from there.

"Fuck," Kisame assessed.

"Yep," Sakura concurred, scanning the horizon in all directions for a decent place to sit down and take shelter so she could treat herself properly.

"There's a cave system just over this way, only a couple miles," Kisame offered, starting to lead the way.

Sakura nodded, grabbing her sword and absently following. "Okay, that works. We should be able to get there by nightfa-"

She cut herself off, stopping in her tracks. Why the hell was she just blindly trusting this guy?

"May I ask what you're doing all the way out here?" She inquired suspiciously.

"Sure, go for it."

Sakura deadpanned. Kisame glanced over his shoulder with a grin.

"Why are you helping me?" Sakura blurted out.

"Because I need a favor," Kisame answered honestly. "Can't give it to me if you're dead."

Ah. That made sense. So long as he was telling the truth, anyway. But it wasn't all that unusual.

"Hm. So what's wrong with you?" Sakura asked, slipping into her professional voice.

"Heh. How much time you got, Doc?"

"Physically speaking. I'm not a licensed therapist, though you look like you probably need one."

"Ouch."

"You don't know 'ouch'," Sakura replied blandly.

Damn it. He was starting to like this one.

He smiled and asked, "Physically speaking? You tell me, wanna do another search and let me know if you find any deformities or otherwise concerning ailments? Not sure you checked everywhere the first time."

"I'm sorry, did you say you needed a favor? Let me think about that… no."

She had no reason to put up with this joker's bullshit. She'd find the caves herself.

Kisame sighed, rolling his eyes. She was too easy to rile up. It was gonna be tough to resist, but he resigned himself to at least make an effort. To 'play nice' or something like it at least.

"What makes you think I'm sick?" he questioned.

"People don't seek me out for my incredible wit and conversational skills, if you can believe it."

"That is shocking," Kisame interjected, feigning surprise. So much for playing nice.

Sakura ignored his sarcasm. "There aren't that many experienced meds left. I'm one of them, so when people come looking for me, that's usually why. They need me to fix them."

So this was par for the course for her, and she really was a medical nin. Excellent. One less person he needed to chew out after all.

"Sure. That checks out," Kisame said.

"So what's wrong with you?" She inquired for the second time.

Kisame shook his head. "You're half right. I need you for your med skills, but it ain't for me."

"So a lover then?"

Kisame actually burst out laughing at this, startling Sakura back a step.

"Look at me, Kunoichi. No," he drawled, still coming down for his fit of laughter. "A friend."

She eyed him wearily. So this guy tracked her down over god knows how many miles in the middle of the desert for her to fix his friend? He did not strike Sakura as the type to keep close friends, let alone risk his hide to save them.

"Must be a good friend," was all Sakura had to say at the moment. She'd need to mull it over.

"I guess. He's pretty uh, pretty sick. Has been for a while. I just saved your life, so now you owe me one."

"Oh, is that how this is going to work?" Sakura asked, pulling an incredulous, wide-eyed face that gave her at least three chins.

"Yeah. If you'd be so kind." He feigned formality.

"Tch… your friend, are they close by?"

"Nope."

"Well then I can't. I have to make a rendezvous in a day, I'm headed north."

Kisame shrugged. "That's fine. I'll go with you."

What the fuck? Did nothing deter this guy?

"You most certainly will not," Sakura asserted.

"Would it be that big of a fucking inconvenience to have a human faucet on hand?" Kisame asked casually, picking at his nails.

Sakura was so busy wanting to simply deny his every request that she hadn't really considered this.

"I'll think about it," she eventually concluded with a hiss, lifting her shirt to check on the weeping wound. The darkened veins had spread further. Shit.

Kisame leered over his shoulder to peek. It was pretty fucking nasty.

"That's pretty fucking nasty."

She didn't waste a response on such a comment. Obviously it was fucking nasty. She knew that better than anyone.

Kisame clicked his tongue. "You're making it worse by moving. You should let me carry you on my back."

"Pass."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged, not pushing it, instead taking to whistling a little tune.

God, he was irritating, but he was also a good tour guide. They made it to the caves he was talking about pretty quickly. Sakura was pleased to find they were the only ones using it at the moment, and they delved pretty deep.

That was good for avoiding yokai, they tended to dwell on the surface.

"Hey, can you make salt water?" Sakura asked, throwing her pack to the ground and setting Kubi, her sword, against the unhewn wall.

Kisame sputtered out a laugh. "Pfft… Can I make salt water? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Of course I can."

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed." Sakura reclined against her pack, tugging her shirt up with a wince.

"Mm. True, true, guess I'm not so simple then, huh?" Kisame mused as he began producing a tiny little ocean in his cupped palms.

Sakura scoffed. Yeah. Okay. Not simple, sure. She decided not to jab him further though, after all, he was helping her.

He plopped onto the ground beside her with a handful of water. "Sooo, what now?"

"Just hold it there," Sakura directed, laying a palm flat against the water's surface. When she lifted back up, the water came with her hand as a giant bead of liquid, the low hum of chakra infusing it and holding it together.

Kisame spectated curiously as she brought the liquid mass to her side, holding it there with a sigh of relief.

"Fancy stuff," he remarked.

Sakura shook her head. "No. It's quite crude actually, saltwater draws out infection. All I'm doing is keeping it together. If you watch closely as I hold it here, you'll see the puss start to accumulate and draw up into the water."

"Gross."

"Yeah," Sakura agreed, "Kind of fun to watch though."

"Yeah." Kisame found himself absently agreeing as well, staring intently at the foul gash that stretched from just above her hip to her ribcage. He could see what she was talking about. Little bits of white slowly oozing out of her and breaking off to float around the globe.

"Sooo," Kisame began, bored already. "Nice sword ya got there." He laid back, lacing his fingers beneath his head.

Yeah, so maybe he was a little curious as to how it fell into her hands. It wasn't like he was upset to see it there or anything—actually looked pretty good there if he was being honest. Seemed like she was doing it justice, anyway.

"Pass." Sakura didn't feel like disclosing any information to this guy. The less people had to leverage against you, the better.

"Suit yourself," Kisame said, shrugging. "But I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

"That some sort of come on?" Sakura asked, unamused.

"You want it to be?"

"Hardly."

"Hm? What's that about being hard?" He brightened.

Oh, so he thought he was funny.

"Hardly. It means 'no', but it's two syllables. Sorry, I didn't mean to overload you."

Kisame chuckled. "Mm, those big words do confuse me, Kunoichi. Better be careful with them."

Sakura didn't say anything back. She was focusing on keeping the saline treatment intact. That, and holding down the snorting laugh that nearly skipped out of her. What an idiot.

"I was talking about my sword," Kisame clarified. "Maybe you noticed it, it's pretty big."

He was making these innuendos on purpose now, she was sure of it.

"You're talking about that creepy thing on your back? Thought it was just a big roll of toilet paper," Sakura said, casually shrugging.

It made enough sense to her. Extra large toilet paper for an extra large asshole.

"Hey." Kisame frowned and sat up, reaching over to the oddly bandaged object, patting it reassuringly. "She can fucking hear that you know."

Lazily raising a brow, she gave both Kisame and the sword a once-over. "Tell her she has my sincerest apologies," she said blandly.

"Tch, tell her yourself. Her name is Samehada."

This was absurd, Sakura thought. She shot him a look of pure deadpan, but saw that he seemed quite serious. She didn't have it in her to fight. This guy was mentally exhausting.

She stared at the sword. "Samehada is it?" she asked, exasperated, disbelieving she was actually about to play along with this.

Sakura paused for response.

There was none because she was talking to a fucking sword.

"She's kinda shy with strangers," Kisame offered up.

Sakura's face couldn't have fallen any more than it already did.

"Ah, yes, I understand," Sakura said blandly, rolling her eyes. "Well, Samehada… lovely name by the way, I am sorry if I offended. You're definitely not a creepy sword. No, not at all."

Kisame laughed. "You're a fucking weirdo. Who talks to a sword like that?"

"You just fucking told me to!"

"You gonna listen to me of all people? I mean come on, look at me. I'm starting to question your judgment, Kunoichi," Kisame tutted.

At that moment, Sakura was grateful for the security of the secluded cave… but at what cost? She wasn't sure how much more her dwindling sanity could take this man.

"Don't act like you know me," she said blankly, focusing back on healing her side. "And I have a name, you know."

"Hm, yeah. Be pretty fucking weird if you didn't," Kisame mused.

"It's not Kunoichi."

"I'm aware. But Kunoichi just has such a nice ring to it."

"So does Sakura," she contested.

Kisame cringed dramatically at the sound of it. "Sure. But you know me with those syllables. How about we keep it simple, eh, Pink?"

The two leveled very different stares at each other. Kisame's pointed in amusement, eyes glinting in the dim light. Sakura's sharpened into knives.

"Fine. I don't care. Call me whatever you'd like, just don't expect any honorifics in return, Shark," Sakura said, lackadaisical and rolling her eyes.

Kisame laughed. "Damn, I'm gonna lose sleep over that, Kunoichi."

"Mm, I bet." Sakura was distracted, frowning at the water held to her side.

"Need more of that? Your little globule there is looking pretty gross, gettin' all filled up with your guts and shit."

"I'm aware… Yes, that would be appreciated." Sakura resigned herself to accept his help.

A fresh pool of saltwater appeared in his cupped hands and she took it once more.

"Thank you… for the water… and... for before," Sakura offered up like it physically pained her to do so.

"Before?" Kisame asked, knowing exactly what she meant but wanting to hear her say it since it seemed like such a heavy lift. She made it way too easy to mess with her.

"Yes, for... saving me…" That word, saving, it sounded like it was swollen, hardly even coming out of her throat. "You didn't need to do that, but you did, so… yeah. Thank you."

Kisame looked her over, satisfied enough with that. "Sure. Like I said, need you alive."

Yeah. She remembered. This was the last guy Sakura wanted to owe something. She'd make it a point to take care of that as soon as possible so she could get back to more important things.

Of course Sakura could always just tell him to fuck off, that she never asked to be saved and that was his own decision. She didn't truly owe him anything. But the truth was, after nearly a decade of this yokai-infested world, Sakura was desperately trying to hold onto the person she used to be.

She did not want to be broken by this world, she wanted to fix it. She wanted to return to that person, that version of Sakura that was happy and kind. She liked her.

She missed her.

The things she'd seen, the things she'd done… each one of them seemed to strip away who she was over the years, and Sakura had decided that the old her would repay this favor… so she would too.

A/N: THANK YOU FOR READING. Reviews are always appreciated encouragement :)

I posted this as a show of good faith for those that read the one-shot and asked if I plan on writing more. Here it is. Consistent updates will come once my main Akatsuki fic is finished, but trust that I've been working on this as my next big project :3

It might not be what people want or expect, but I just want to write a sassy, smart, badass Sakura with a big ass sword killing yokai and getting put into all sorts of weirdly sexual and angsty situations with my favorite big blue man :)

FFN lacks tagging capabilities… if I COULD, these would be it:

Slow Burn
Unresolved sexual tension

Fluff & Angst
Hurt/Comfort

Humor

Eventual romance

Eventual smut

Plot with Porn

Alternate Universe- Post Apocalyptic

BAMF Sakura