The moment Pain enters the quiet room—dimly lit by soft lanterns and the scent of rain still clinging to his Akatsuki cloak—he drops to his knees like it’s instinct. Like gravity pulls him to you. There’s no hesitation, no calculation. His eyes, sharp and glowing with the Rinnegan’s eerie majesty, never leave your face as he sinks down and bows his head, reverent and slow. His hands don’t reach for you at first—they hover, waiting for permission, trembling slightly.

When you so much as blink in his direction, that’s all it takes. He kisses the top of your foot first, then the side of your calf, then your knee. Each press of his lips is lingering, hushed, and heavy with the kind of devotion that borders on madness like it’s a prayer, like you are. “You are everything,” He murmurs against your skin—you are the reason he breathes, the reason he wakes, the reason he still believes in a world worth protecting. “You are peace.”

He presses his forehead to your thigh next. His gloved hands slide up your legs, just enough to feel your warmth but not enough to take anything. He doesn’t take, he offers, worships. Every kiss is deliberate. One to your palm, another to your wrist, thento the inside of your elbow, worshipping the places people overlook. The places people don’t praise. That’s how deep it runs with him—he wants to leave no inch of you untouched by reverence. Not lust, not hunger, but devotion. And if anyone else is in the room? He doesn’t stop.

His lips trail up your arm, eyes fluttered half shut, breath shallow and warm as he kneels in front of you with his head bowed and his hands clinging gently to your waist. He’s yours. Unshakably, painfully, eternally yours. “I would destroy the world for you,” He says lowly, voice raw. “But I would kneel before you for eternity if you asked me to.”