Author's Note: So, I recently heard Megan Thee Stallion's "Girls in the Hood" (I know, it's been out for months; all I do is study, give me a break), and that "looking for a Sasuke" line brought back so much nostalgia. I know you guys remember being young and thinking Sasuke was the bae, and then getting older and getting perspective to be like "…god, of course Sakura's marriage is a nightmare; this dude is the fuckboy heard around the world." Well, if ya'll were looking for a fuckboy fanfiction to shake your head and say "I knew that boy was never any good; what a mess" look no further. The only thing I can't decide on is if Sarada should exist or not. Does that make this shit too complicated or sad, or is that premium fuckboy territory? Let me know what you guys think in the reviews or PMs and enjoy!
Chapter 1
Kakashi took a deep breath, trying to comprehend the news that had just been given to him. His leg bounced anxiously as he leaned back, trying to disappear into the worn cushions of his office chair.
"You look sick." the woman in his office commented. He moved his head in a slow nod, agreeing with her analysis. His eyes were looking past her, wide yet glazed over under his raised brow.
"…yup." he confirmed with another sharp breath. He stood, pulling off his white Hokage robes and exchanging them for the combat vest that hung on the coat rack in his office.
"Where are you going?" she asked, holding out her hands in a lazy shrug.
"I'm going to kill him." Kakashi replied nonchalantly, zipping up the vest. "I never should've pardoned him."
"Don't be so dramatic." The woman rolled her brown eyes.
"Where was the last place you saw him?" he asked, taking inventory of his weapons and giving his threat a bit more credibility. "Even a general vicinity is fine. My hounds can track him from there. I still have—"
"Kakashi, stop!" He turned to her with every intention of arguing, but lost the will when he saw her gripping the silky locks of her long, brown hair in tight fists against her head. "Please." Her lip quivered with the request, shaking a few tears loose from the streams that carved their way down her sullen face. "I-I don't care about him. I didn't come here for this." Her voice shook before her final uncharacteristic plea, "I just need help." She never needed help—at least not from him.
Maybe that was his fault. He should have visited more often. He used to visit his uncle and his grandfather religiously every month when he was younger. It was always fun traveling to Tanzaku Town with his father. His father would have wanted him to continue visiting—which is exactly why he stayed away for twelve years. He didn't even inform them of his father's death. It was a spiteful thing to do. Though, at the time, he had convinced himself it was the right thing to do. Why should they have to suffer over his father's selfish decisions just as he did? He had ignored his grandfather's annual letters addressed to his father, begging him to visit and 'bring his cute son.' After the third year, he stopped opening them all together. After the seventh year, they stopped coming.
Obligation eventually gnawed through his spite when he received a visit from the ANBU Black Ops unit his uncle had served with. They delivered his uncle's bloodied uniform and apologized for his loss. They wanted to let him know of Tadashi's death first, and give him the opportunity to break the news to his grandfather. The retired war veteran had lost most of his hearing and his left leg in service of the Hidden Leaf Village. He deserved some comfort with the devastating news of his only remaining child's loss. Kakashi felt guilt course through his veins like poison. He had never told his grandfather about Sakumo's suicide. It burned.
The burn intensified to unbearable levels when he was greeted happily by his grandfather and told he looked exactly like Sakumo. He felt like he could die when the five-year-old girl, who had been silently curled up on the couch reading, was introduced as Tadashi's daughter—Kakashi's cousin—Maki. Her mother had died in childbirth, and she scarcely knew her father. She couldn't remember his face, or his voice, but she knew his handwriting. Every month, he would send home an envelope of cash with a single note: Take care of your grandfather. Love, Dad.
Kakashi visited again during Maki's sixth birthday, on his way back home from a mission. His ANBU partner at the time had come with him. It was the first time in a long time that he had let someone into a vulnerable part of his life. They took Maki to a fair, went on all of the rides that their grandfather was unable to, and taught her the first-step basics of becoming a ninja. She was a natural, and infinitely curious about their roles as ANBU Black Ops. She cooed cutely about wanting to be just like them—just like her father. Kakashi had suggested that she come back with him to the Hidden Leaf Village and begin classes at the Ninja Academy. Responsible Maki was nothing like irresponsible Kakashi. She refused to ignore her obligations to her grandfather, not wanting to leave the old man on his own. She promised she would keep training hard on her own if they would keep visiting and teaching her new things. And irresponsible Kakashi made another irresponsible promise.
Life got in the way. It was a piss poor excuse for his behavior. He had hoped that the faithfully made monthly tithes of his modest salary would serve as adequate restitution for his absence, but he should have known better. He made the same mistake as her father: remaining a faceless, voiceless benefactor that deprived Maki of the things she truly needed. His notes weren't much better, either. Take care of Baba. Love, Kakashi. He wouldn't blame her if she hated him. He definitely did. The last time he had seen her was after he received a letter informing him of their grandfather's death. He managed to make it to the small funeral. He definitely should have stayed longer than twenty-eight minutes after, though. That much was clear to him now. He tried to remember why he left so suddenly. O, that's right. He had a meeting with the feudal lord to prepare for. And Maki had assured him she was fine. She had handed back his unused funds and insisted that she had no need for them now that Baba was gone. She had scoffed at his concern for her and told him not to be so hysterical when he, again, suggested she move to the Hidden Leaf Village. He wanted to believe she would be fine, so he did just that. He didn't even question it. He turned a blind eye to the overwhelming grief in her eyes that screamed out for help—words she was far too stubborn to say out loud until today. She really must have been desperate to sink so low as to ask him for help.
"I'm sorry." Kakashi sighed before returning to the girl and pulling her into his arms. "You know I'll always be there for you, Maki." He gently rubbed her back, still trying to make sense of her predicament. "Let's start over," he proposed, leading her to his chair and letting her sit, "and I promise I won't interrupt…or look so sick." It was another irresponsible promise. She gave him an incredulous look with doleful eyes. "Can you start from the beginning?"
"Okay." the girl said through a shaky breath. "I first met him six years ago."
"Maki!" The girl turned her eyes away from the vanity mirror upon hearing the excited whisper of her name. Her friend, Kasumi, enthusiastically motioned her over, a wide smile across her glossy lips. Her pretty face was practically glowing in anticipation.
"What?" Maki asked, fastening her robe and walking over to the doorway. Her friend held open the lazily hung black-out curtain that attempted to separate the dark, loud club from the well-lit changing rooms.
"Booths, last one by the entrance." Kasumi replied. Maki leaned forward, not wanting to open any more of the curtain and draw attention from the light they would spill—if they hadn't already. Her brown eyes ran down the booths until she saw him: the brooding cloaked man in the corner. It was rare for them to see such a handsome man. And he was handsome. The girls hungrily took in his appearance: chin-length black hair that looked almost as soft as theirs, a firm and masculine jaw, a clean-shaven and youthful face (most likely around their age), dark and mysterious eyes that seemed to analyze everything they passed over, and (from what they could tell over the cloak) at least a decently toned body. "He's tall, too." Kasumi quickly said, as if reading her mind.
"And totally Black Ops." Maki added when she noticed the man's gaze falling on other patrons instead of the stage. She pulled the curtain closed before their presence could become obvious to him.
"What? How do you know?" Kasumi asked, following Maki back to the vanity as she finished applying her lipstick.
"My cousin and dad were both Black Ops." she explained, gently pressing her lips together to evenly distribute the dark red pigment. "My grandpa said you could always tell Black Ops apart by the bags under their eyes. And that boy has bags if I've ever seen them."
"You can't tell just from that!" her friend criticized. "Besides, he looks too young to be Black Ops."
"O, they start them so young. I met one that was like eleven or something." Maki thought about other indicators for a moment. "Is he a good tipper?"
"Not sure." Kasumi replied with a shrug, taking a seat in front of another mirror to touch up her makeup. "I haven't seen him get a dance yet." Maki let out an exaggerated hum.
"And he hasn't been watching the stage. Just other guys. Totally Black Ops."
"Maybe he's just not into those girls." Kasumi reasoned, running her fingers through her long, straight black hair. "How do I look?" Maki took in her appearance: golden brown skin seductively covered in lacey black lingerie, with a physique that turned every head in the room.
"Like a total slut." The girls giggled at their inside joke.
"Perfect!" Kasumi said, making her way back to the club. "Wish me luck."
"Just stay away from whoever he's tailing!" Maki jokingly warned, watching her friend prance out of the room.
"And now gentlemen, give a warm welcome to Nana~"
"Shit!" Maki quickly did a final inventory of her makeup and hair before tossing her robe to the ground and running onto the stage in response to the announcer calling her performing name. She slowed to a tempting saunter before appearing from behind the curtains, giving a flirtatious wave to her regular customers. The surrounding men leaned forward to get a better view of her as she pressed her lingerie-clad body against the mounted pole. Her sizable breasts enveloped the brass, and she slowly slid down to a squatting position, swaying her curvy hips to the beat of the music. She did a small spin, slowing to toss her head back and letting her long brown hair pass over the men's faces. They inhaled her perfume as she performed a few more acrobatics. Her eyes passed over the handsome man in the corner. He was trying hard to maintain his focus under Kasumi's grinding hips. Maki almost laughed out loud when she noticed him politely hold up a tip instead of tucking it into her friend's thong or bra. Definitely Black Ops. It was kind of cute.
Maki motioned over Kasumi, tearing her away from the handsome man. His eyes followed her to the stage. Even from across the dimly lit space, his flushed expression was perfectly visible. Kasumi straddled one of her regular customers, immediately prompting him to slide cash into her thong. She pulled herself onto the edge of the stage, down on all fours in front of Maki, and positioned her barely covered crotch in front of the customer's face. It immediately drew the attention of every bouncer. As the security detail kept a watchful eye on the patrons to assure there would be no unsolicited touching, the men kept their eyes fixed on the girls. Maki came down from her spin on the pole, planting her heels on the stage—her legs on either side of one arm that kept a firm grip on the brass as she leaned forward and gently ran a manicured fingernail along Kasumi's jaw. Kasumi closed the gap between her face and Maki's breasts, grabbing the loosely tied ribbon of her royal blue teddy in her mouth and pulling it open. The crowd erupted in cheers and tips as Maki shook the thin fabric loose from her body, revealing the similarly colored—and far less opaque—bra and thong. She switched hands on the pole, dropping down to her knees and spreading her legs wide as she tossed her head back. She felt the familiar graze of fingers and paper around her hips and crotch as her set ended. She caught a glimpse of the handsome man watching her as she collected her tips.
It wasn't the only time she noticed him staring at her. As Maki made her way through the customers of the night, He seemed to be keeping an even more vigilant eye than the bouncers. She gave him a polite smile as she walked past him, intending to stash her more recent round of tips in the back room before getting back to work. She stopped when she felt a pair of hands on her hips.
"That was a nice performance, Nana." a man whispered in her ear. She internally groaned, but turned with a pleasant smile. "How about doing a private one for me?" He worked his fingers under the straps of her thong.
Seiji Bando was hands down the most difficult, ungrateful, disgusting, entitled customer Maki had ever encountered. And that's how he was in public. She couldn't even begin to imagine the vulgar things he might try with her in private. He had been kicked out by the bouncers a few times before, but was always allowed back in after dinner with the club owner—a close friend of his rich father's. Seiji was practically untouchable (in more ways than one) and it made them all sick.
"You know I don't work the private suites, Seiji." Maki replied with a smile so fake it hurt her jaw. She pulled his hands away from her hips and he immediately moved them behind her, roughly squeezing her shapely buttocks.
"With a body like this, you should really reconsider your silly rule." he whispered in her ear. She pulled back just enough so he could see her motion over his shoulder.
"You're about to get kicked out again." Maki whispered back. Seiji's hands quickly left her body as he turned to look for a bouncer. She took the opportunity to escape into the back, her skin still crawling from his touch. She exchanged her cash for the wet wipes in her purse and rubbed down every part of herself she even suspected he might have so much as grazed. She sighed with relief at the feeling of her renewed skin, retouched her makeup, reapplied her perfume, and spent the next several minutes peeking out from behind the dressing room curtain to avoid running into Seiji. When she could no longer see him in the crowd, she tip-toed out, careful to stay along the edges of the club. He was like a blood hound. It was like he could sniff out her discomfort. His head poked up above the sea of customers, he spotted her immediately, and began making his way over to her.
"Shit…" Maki glanced over her shoulder to the closest patron—the handsome man. He met her eyes and she gave him another pleasant smile. She quickly slipped into his booth, before Seiji could get his hands on her, and straddled his lap.
"What are you doing?" the man asked, immediately tensing and straightening out his posture. "I-I didn't ask for a lap dance."
"I know." Maki replied cheerily, running her fingers through his hair. It was so soft. "But you should." She leaned closer as her hands moved down his neck and chest. "Otherwise it might blow your cover, Mr. Black Ops." she playfully whispered. She wasn't sure if it was possible for him to be wound any tighter than he already was, but she heard a nervous breath escape his lips and decided to push her luck. "People are starting to get suspicious."
"Who told you?" he asked in a more serious tone of voice, surveying their surroundings.
"You." she answered casually, flipping her hair over her shoulder and bringing her cleavage to his face. "I was the only one who was suspicious." she clarified. "I wasn't sure, but now it's confirmed."
"I'm no—" He let out an uncomfortable grunt as she began grinding her crotch against his. He grabbed her hip with one hand to establish more distance between their groins.
"Sorry," she stopped and looked him in the eyes. "Too rough?"
"No." he said though gritted teeth and bated breath.
"O," Maki let out a small laugh when she saw him pull the cloak over his growing erection. "trust me, you're not the only guy in here with an erection. That's kind of the point. That and tips are how I know I did a good job." she joked.
"O, here." He dug through his pocket for a bill, and Maki smiled when she saw him hold it out for her. She stood, wondering if he would take the initiative to tuck it into her thong, but when he simply waited for her to retrieve it, she decided to try something different. She leaned forward, placing a hand on each of his thighs. She dug her fingernails into his firm muscles. "What are you doing?" His arm moved back a bit as he watched her closely. She pushed her breasts together and leaned into him, keeping constant eye contact as she grabbed the bill with her teeth. Another broken, shuddering breath left him. She straightened out and he followed her movements in a haze. She pulled the bill from her mouth and winked at him.
"Thank you, Mr. Black Ops." she said cutely before heading off to her next customer. The night continued on as usual, and Mr. Black Ops took his leave shortly after their encounter. Maki joked with Kasumi that she might have scared him off. Kasumi berated herself for not grinding harder against him. When the club finally closed and the last of the drunken, broke men had been tossed out, Maki furiously scrubbed the heavily layered makeup off her face. She slipped into her oversized sweatshirt, black leggings, and sneakers—looking like the perfectly respectable girl that had left home that afternoon.
"Jeez, you made a killing tonight." Kasumi commented as Maki counted her tips and pay.
"And it's all going to surgeries and medicine." Maki replied, tucking it into her purse.
"O, that's right. How's your grandfather doing?" Kasumi suddenly remembered the old man's declining health.
"I don't know." Maki said with a shrug. "Not worse, so I guess that's something." She gathered up her things and gave her friend a hug. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Be safe."
The chill of the night worked its icy fingers into Sasuke's cloak as he sat on the roof, watching the brown-haired girl fumble with the lock to her apartment. She looked so different without all that makeup. No less pretty, just different. This was never the plan. He had come here only to investigate a hotbed of dangerous, S-ranked missing-nin. He had counted at least two that she had danced for. There were probably more that he was unfamiliar with. He just wanted to make sure she got home safe. At least, that's what he told himself. She disappeared into the building, suddenly reappearing in a window and flinging it open. Sasuke moved further into the shadows of the chimney he had been leaned up against. Did she see me? He saw her toss a cigarette out onto the concrete of the alley below her and frantically wave a pillow to rid the room of the smoke. She turned her head to someone in the room, a cute glare on her face.
"Baba, you can't smoke in here! It's against our lease." she scolded. Sasuke could not see the face of the man she was talking to, but saw his wheelchair, his amputated leg, and his heavily wrinkled arms.
"We can't have a dog either, but you never give me a hard time about Hiro!" the old man argued back.
"That's because you've never tried to smoke him against doctor's orders." she retorted. Sasuke let out an amused breath through his nose, a slight smile appearing. She was witty. "What are you doing still up?"
"I wanted to make sure you got home okay." he said. "It's not safe out there for a young girl like you."
"I'm fine, Baba." she assured.
"I used to think I was fine when I was seventeen, too! Now look at me. Missing a leg, can't hardly hear." She's seventeen? Sasuke had been sure she was older. Girls his age never seemed to be as confident as she was. How did she get a job at a strip club being under age?
"You can hear just fine. The only time your hearing goes bad is when I tell you something you don't like."
"What?" The old man's hand disappeared out of view, and Sasuke imagined he was probably holding it up to his ear. The girl let out a small laugh and took a seat by the old man's chair, resting her head in his lap. He stroked her silky brown hair. "I just wish you didn't have to work so late at that damn restaurant. They can't give you an earlier shift? It's just not safe out there." he repeated. I see…he doesn't know.
"I'll ask again, Baba." the girl lied.
"Don't keep going if they say no." he insisted. "You just don't go back, Maki." Maki? Nana must have been just for the club.
"I have to keep going, Baba." she said. "Who else is going to pay for your medicine?'
"I'll ask—"
"No." she interrupted. "He's already done enough. Besides, you know he doesn't want to be bothered with us. You'll never have to go to him for help as long as I'm here, Baba. I'll take care of us."
"It's just not safe out there." the old man grumbled as she helped him into bed. Sasuke watched her until she disappeared into the hallway and reappeared in the window of an adjacent room. She dug through her purse, sorting through a wad of cash and placing it in a tiny lockbox under her bed. She stopped when she arrived at a specific bill. Sasuke recognized the distinctive torn corner. He could still feel the lingering sensation of her hands on his thighs when she grabbed it with her teeth. He watched her scribble something on the bill and use a piece of tape to add it to the collage of pictures and notes on her bedroom wall.
He waited for her to turn off the light and fall asleep before heading back to his hotel. He needed to rest, but every time he closed his eyes, the same scene played in his head…again, and again, and again, and again. He was completely captivated by this strange, incredible girl. Sasuke groaned, unable to sleep, and kicked off the covers. He pulled down his boxers, spit in his palm, and began rubbing it down his length. He altered the scene in his mind just a bit. She still gripped his thighs, still pushed her breasts into his face, but instead of grabbing a bill with her mouth, she got on her knees and wrapped her glossy red lips around the head of his penis. He grunted and thrust his hips up, imagining her take it all into her mouth. He moved his hand faster.
"Swallow it, Maki." His voice was a harsh, throaty whisper as he trembled from the force of his orgasm. 'Thank you, Mr. Black Ops.' "Fuck." he swore breathlessly as his erection continued to pulse in his hand. So he replayed the adjusted scene again, and again, and again, and again.