So, I come with porn... I think.
So I just handed in my sn_exchange assignment a little before last week, and have been on a break from LJ ever since. It's refreshing, to say the least. Anyway, I discovered that lately I've been failing quite miserably at writing porn.
More specifically, I think I somehow lost my ability - drive? - to write porn somewhere along the way last month, when I was still writing my exchange fic, and Naruto and Sasuke were being stupid - they just didn't want to get written. But really, why include porn when it is not needed? (Sheesh, now I know how syrraki felt every time I told her write MOAR of the good stuff).
I did spend my time typing up some fics with porny potential, though, when I really should've been working on the exchange instead. Unfortunately, I won't have time to focus on these half-baked ideas anytime soon, so I decided we could have a... porn meme of sorts:
1. Read the short (unfinished) oneshots posted below.
2. Choose one or more and either continue them in a comment, or write some porn based on it.
3. If none of the pairings below appeal to you, then choose a pairing of your liking and post a porny drabble on it. (Length is totally dependant on the writer, of course - it can be something long and detailed, or something as short as a sentence.)
4. Everyone is welcome to continue each other's comment!fics.
5. Write porn of the sexy/sensual/sweet/soft/silly/sadistic/sick kind, but most importantly, have fun! :D
Hopefully, this'll get my inner pervert pouring out naughty things to be written in my ears again, so here goes:
SasukexNaruto:
They fuck.
That’s what they do whenever they ‘accidentally’ encounter each other in between Naruto’s missions and Sasuke’s ever-present pursuit of revenge.
The first time, though, is an accident.
It happens in a bar. Long story short, Naruto sees him, Sasuke runs and when Naruto catches up (read: when Sasuke lets him catch up), they fight - or brawl, really, because civilian areas aren’t really the most suitable places for epic battles to the death.
The Red Light District is aglow with a thousand paper lanterns and crawling with promiscuous women with painted faces. Naruto doesn’t want to think about what Sasuke’s doing here, of all places, because he’s here and that’s all that matters.
Wrapped in shadows, behind one of the seedier brothels in the district, they exchange words. To put it more accurately, Naruto screams at Sasuke (Konoha is your home. Get that through your thick skull, you asshole) and Sasuke replies with infuriating indifference. (Still going on about that, Naruto? You haven’t changed.).
When words fail (as they always do), they exchange blows, and Sasuke suddenly isn’t such a cold son of a bitch anymore.
He’s like fire - that’s the first thought that runs through Naruto’s mind when he stumbles in the dark, and Sasuke backs him up against the wall and kisses him. The thought is quickly followed by ‘fuck,’ and then nothing at all.
Sasuke calls his name, once, and then never again.
The second time, it happens on a rooftop.
Naruto is in the market, wondering what souvenir to get Sakura, when he catches a flash of red eyes and a black cloak disappearing past an alleyway. He drops the pink sea-shell he’s been examining, and runs after that elusive figure, desperation and a thousand ‘why’s thrumming through his veins.
They fuck in broad daylight. Naruto gags Sasuke with his headband, in case Sasuke’s cries alert the rest of his team, and pushes Sasuke’s knees up to his ears.
The sky overhead is that particular shade of blue that Sasuke hates - he closes his eyes against the sunlight and embraces the red-dappled darkness.
It happens a few more times - just quick flings against a solid surface, always somewhere conveniently deserted (or at least dark) - always rushed and furious, and frantic, but still eerily quiet. Nothing but repressed groans, frenzied thrusts, a few muffled curses, the rustle of clothes… and the sound of footsteps growing dimmer.
Every time that happens, Naruto tries to yank Sasuke back by the sleeve, pin him down and beat some sense into his head. Sasuke goes down willingly, fisting his hands in Naruto’s hair, kissing him like it’s the last time. But by the time he’s done with Naruto, Naruto lies too exhausted to do anything but watch black sandals in his peripheral vision get farther away with each passing second.
Naruto covers his face with his hand and thinks fuck you, dammit and is relieved Sasuke’s not here to see this. The stinging behind his eyes is nothing new.
By the ninth time it happens, Naruto’s gotten quite good at making up excuses and leaving his team to ‘just mess around a little’. It’s not exactly a lie. He’s also gotten good at sensing Sasuke - he knows Sasuke’s there, even if he can’t see him.
Naruto bites into his palm to keep in the groan when Sasuke drives in so hard that he throws his head back and strains like a taut bow against Sasuke’s body. He wants to say something, something futile, but he wants to say it nonetheless.
Sasuke thrusts in again, brutally. He must’ve known what Naruto’s going to say - it’s the same thing every time - because he picks up the pace, as if he suddenly wants this to be over quick.
That still doesn’t stop Naruto from wanting to say it, though. He yanks Sasuke’s face close by the hair and tells him harshly, “Fuck, come back. Just come b-”
Sasuke shoves a palm over his mouth, because he doesn’t need to -want to- hear this, and comes.
Naruto doesn’t know when this madness starts becoming an all-consuming obsession. And he doesn’t really care because he thinks it’s worth it, these trysts - the sneaking out, the risk (thrill) of being caught, thrown in jail for treason - especially when Sasuke makes that interesting noise, keening as if he’s being strangled.
He tries to muffle it into Naruto’s mouth, as a rough hand works on his cock, nestled somewhere between their clothes. They don’t bother to strip completely these days - it’s always over within minutes. Besides, Naruto doesn’t really mind the silken swish of Sasuke’s haori against his skin, not the coarse feel of Sasuke’s pants against his bare thighs.
Naruto’s other hand fists in Sasuke’s coarse locks, knuckles bleeding white in black hair.
It’s an alley this time, shadowed and secluded and smelling of sweat and sex, narrow enough that Sasuke can plant his feet on the wall opposite and let Naruto hoist him up and fuck him, without getting on hands and knees. He’s too proud for that.
He ignores the zig-zag outcroppings of bricks jutting out of the wall and into his back when Naruto thrusts up - hard, all the way - and concentrates on the pleasurable delirium thrumming through his veins.
It makes his cursed eyes see white - stark, blissful white and not red - and he’s glad; he closes his eyes and frantically slams himself down on Naruto.
This time, he doesn’t quite manage to muffle the moan that claws its way out of his throat because Naruto tears his mouth away, gasping, and nudges the white fabric on a pale shoulder aside with his nose; the sleeve falls away, draping from his body and leaving his shoulder exposed.
Then Naruto buries his nose deeper into his neck, turns his head up slightly and breathes him in. Deep and slow and gasping and so fond and gentle that Sasuke freezes.
“Sasuke...” Naruto’s voice drags against salty skin, all anguish and longing and mindless obsession, and Sasuke hates him for saying his name like that.
“Shut up,” he rasps, because this means nothing. “Shut up,” he growls again, and bites his lip to keep from calling out Naruto’s name.
NarutoxSakura:
Sex with Naruto is a new experience every time.
In the mornings, it’s just a roll in the sheets-lazy and drawn out until the sunrises high; but most of the time, a roll in the sheets is all it is -quick and playful- with the clock ticking, and only ten minutes remaining till Sakura’s morning shift.
Despite that, Sakura always gives in, but not before protesting. Though, only half-heartedly, because Naruto is persistent enough to annoy her into having sex.
These days Naruto uses more subtle-but no less devious-tactics of seduction. Sakura knows she’s lost the battle when Naruto looks at her like that: eyes sparkling with mischief, grin threatening to stretch from ear to ear and rough, purposeful fingers disappearing under her night shirt to lazily graze skin. And that’s all the warning she gets before Naruto pounces.
Sakura discovers that tickling and puppy eyes are a lethal combination.
Tsunade merely sighs when she comes in late for work, with frazzled bed hair and a loopy grin.
Sometimes, it’s soft and gentle and Naruto smiles against her breast and tells her she’s beautiful. Sakura flushes, merely laughs it off, but then Naruto looks at her all serious -like he really means it - and kisses her, so sweet and heartfelt, that she can’t help but kiss back. If she’s in a good mood, she jokingly tells him, hey, you’re not half bad either. Naruto makes a face at her and tells her he prefers to be called dashingly handsome, not beautiful.
Evenings, when they manage to make time in between training and missions and hospital work, are always calm and peaceful. At least, at first.
It starts out with innocent cuddling underneath the starlight. Shoulders brushing and her hand in his, they sit in the middle of the training grounds, just two souls in a world of many, and talk about everything - they confide in each other.
Naruto tells her about his more gruesome missions and how he feels like throwing up every time he takes a life. Sakura tells him how she wants to scream and curse and cry every time she fails to save one.
But mostly though, they talk about the little things - about training and the new jutsu they’ve been working on; about Sai’s new workshop and how Kakashi really does look like a scarecrow in his new robes.
They never talk about Sasuke.
Then they snicker about how absurd it is that Shikamaru has a horde of women - all strong and willful and troublesome - fighting for his attention and proceed to make fun of how everyone in their age group is pairing up, until Sakura points out that hey, we’ve paired up too now, haven’t we?
Naruto chuckles at that and softly nuzzles her neck, as if he agrees. But Sakura knows his mannerisms well enough by now - perhaps better than he does - and knows what he really asking - Have we? - and it pains her to know he still thinks of himself as second-best.
She laughs in return and strokes his hair to reassure him that, yes, we have.
Naruto tells her amusing anecdotes from his missions (he claims to have made friends with a giant squid on a mission to Wave Country - had he been anyone else, Sakura would’ve accused him of bluffing). Sakura smiles and giggles at Naruto’s jokes even when they’re not that funny, but mostly just watches Naruto chatter animatedly and flail his arms around with an enthusiasm that makes her want to kiss him senseless for being Naruto.
She resists the urge to do so because she likes hearing Naruto talk (to think she had once hated it!), loves listening to the slightly boyish cadence of his voice and the sight of him being happy makes her happy. Her self-restraint, though, has other plans: the moment Naruto turns to look at her with that eye-crinkling grin, self-restraint whistles lecherously, mutters an “Adios, amigo!” and takes a vacation for the rest of the night.
Sakura tackles Naruto to the ground with all the strength and precision of an untamed feline and kisses him, tongue driving in forcefully past startled lips.
Naruto, after blinking several times (just to check if this was indeed real), groans into her mouth and fists his hands into her hair, deepening the kiss until it becomes something intimate and needy, until each second they’re apart becomes a second too long.
Wow. Nice to know you missed me,, Naruto murmurs, smiling and breathless. Then his tone becomes more flirtatious, You could’ve just asked, Sakura-chan.
Just- Sakura gasps as a calloused palm slides up her thigh, Just shut up and kiss me.
Naruto chuckles and proceeds to do just that.
At night, things get more adventurous.
Naruto slides in one finger, then two, and Sakura almost comes from that alone. He lifts her hips up, clawed fingers digging into skin, and then sinks her down in one fluid motion on his cock.
By that time, Sakura’s usually unable to do anything but scratch at his back for more and when Naruto growls huskily in her ear - Ride me, Sakura -Sakura obeys, because she likes it when he says her name like that.
Sex with Naruto is fun when he teases her; maddening when he drags sharpening canine against the dimples above her hips; playful when Sakura dresses up in that tight, tight nurse’s outfit and straddles him; erotic when Sakura ties him up and touches that pressure point behind his ear with feather-light fingers, and Naruto comes then and there.
But most of all, sex with Naruto is unpredictable - he’s always full of surprises.
That, Sakura thinks, is an understatement as Naruto waves his-her?- left hand around frantically, trying to convince Sakura that, this is an awesome idea! come on, Sakura-chan~!; his right hand shoves an unedited edition of Icha Icha Sexy no Jutsu in her face.
Sakura had always known that Naruto was shameless- but not this shameless.
“NO, NARUTO!”
Sakura yells for the nth time, on the verge of hyperventilating, as Naruto begins to describe, in detail, how good it could feel.
“Alright, alright-”
Naruto-Naruko?- warily eying Sakura’s raised fist, holds her hands up in a placating gesture, and it blocks full, bouncy breasts from view.
Sakura blinks, and finds herself cursing mentally in disbelief when her eyes unintentionally try to gaze past small, soft hands. There is a feminine pout on Naruto’s lips, lower lips jutting out and looking so deliciously inviting-
Sakura snaps out of her daze to clear her throat and looks at anywhere but Naruto. The smoke from the jutsu has long since disappeared, and Naruto isn’t even doing anything to hide his - her - body, as if he pranced around naked liked that every day. Whixh he does sometimes, when he’s in their apartment, but Sakura has bigger problems to think about. Like how she feels her nipples straining against her top at the thought of Naruto-Naruko?-naked.
“Good!” she says, voice unusually high. “Now change back.”
Sakura proceeds to busy herself with fiddling around with the hideously clashing piles of red and orange clothes in the wardrobe, her back to Naruto. I’m not a lesbian, she assures herself. I’m not a lesbian, she chants in her mind repeatedly, until she’s convinced herself that she, indeed, is not a lesbian, despite the fact that one time, both she and Ino had gotten so drunk that-
“Hey, Sa-ku-ra-chan~!”
-Sakura screams and jumps ten feet in the air and turns around wildly to see big, blue eyes blinking at her innocently. She sags against the wardrobe, clutching her chest and telling her heart to calm down, it’s just Naruto.
“Don’t scare me like that!” Sakura snaps.
Naruto blinks again -her eyelashes are so long and pretty, Sakura suddenly notices- lower lip jutting out and teeth biting into it softly. Sakura’s eyes widen. Oh my god-
“I know you want to, Sakura-chan,” Naruto says throatily against Sakura’s jaw, voice softly ghosting across sensitive skin. Sakura shivers, lightning glancing up and down her spine.
“Don’t you want to know how it’d feel to do this?”
Naruto presses their breasts together and Sakura’s nipples harden instantly, her mouth falling open in an involuntary gasp. She shudders when Naruto purrs against her neck like a kitten and a tongue darts past feminine lips to lick at her ear.
“Think about it,” Naruto murmurs sexily into her ear, eyes drooping with lust. “Wouldn’t it be fun to dominate me, for once?”
Sakura’s eyes widen at that prospect -having Naruto helpless and under her, vulnerable and willing to please- and she feels herself getting unbearably wet. She tries to instinctively press her thighs together to relieve some of the tension, but Naruto instantly parts them with a slender knee and moans, long and deliberate in her ear, as if he’s actually coming.
“I’ll do anything you want me to, Sakura-chan.”
Oh god, Sakura’s mind screams, he just did not quote Jiraiya’s trashy heroines. But more importantly, she did not find herself liking it.
“I- Naruto, stop!” Sakura gasps, squirms as slim fingers - soft, not calloused - disappear under her black shorts to do something that makes her knees wobble. “I told you. I’m not- a lesbian,” Sakura manages through gritted teeth, fierce green eyes defiant, and if her voice wavers, it’s only because Naruto is so damn distracting.
Naruto laughs and the sound is more of a giggle: tinkling and soft and melodious-not the deep-throated chuckle she’s accustomed to-but it still sends a jolt of heat rushing between her legs.
“We won’t know if we don’t try.”
And suddenly there’s a pair a of lips on hers and it’s soft and wet and warm, nothing like the rough and chapped and dry ones she’s used to. Sakura squeaks in surprise, eyes flying wide open. It’s different, and Sakura almost goes crazy when Naruto - intentionally or not - whimpers submissively against her mouth and-oh god, feeling this good should be illegal.
It takes a while before Sakura stops blinking and regains her mental facilities, but when she does, she tells that voice of morality in her head to go screw it, and kisses back.
ponytail tugging and dominant!Sakura, anyone? ;)
ShinoxHinata:
Hinata clears her throat, and looks down at the nervously clasped hands on her lap. She tries very hard not to squirm.
Shino observes her through green eyes and waits - he’s never rushed her and never will. He’s an Aburame, and he understands the intimacy shared in silence better than most do, but he’s never known the intimacy of touch. If she chooses to change her mind now, he will not say anything.
It’s awkward to be just sitting on the bed like this, half-naked, not even two feet apart. The task set before them seems daunting - compared to that, kissing now seems so simple.
Hinata’s blush spreads down her neck when she steals a glance at Shino’s bare chest through a dark fringe of hair.
It’s taken them three months to hold hands, eight more to kiss, and another seven to go on an official date. But, after two years, they’re here finally and neither of them really know what to do.
She’s thought about it sometimes-and she knows Shino must’ve too-but thinking something and actually doing it isn’t the same thing.
“I-” Hinata starts and abruptly cuts herself off, because her voice sounds unnaturally loud in the silence. Shino’s fingers twitch against the sheets, as if resisting the urge to curl into them.
“Can-can I… touch you, Shino-kun?” she murmurs finally and ducks her head into her chest in acute embarrassment - that really isn’t how she had planned for it to come out.
Silence reigns, tic-toc, and it’s a moment before Shino answers.
“You… want to touch me?”
HInata gathers the scrambled remains of her courage and says, bravely, “Yes.”
She looks directly into his eyes-his slightly wide, surprised eyes; Shino looks more human without the glasses somehow-and her lips press into a thin, determined line.
“So… can I?” Hinata asks, voice not quite as steady as she would like it to be.
Shino gives her a nod, and looks away from her, a faint, barely-there blush slowly creeping up on his cheeks too. And somehow, that makes her feel better.
She boldly lays a hand on his thigh, fingers digging into the black material of his pants in anxiety. Hinata leans forward, observing Shino’s reaction through lowered lashes and he tenses - whether at the proximity or scrutiny, she can’t tell. But, the red on his cheeks darkens and Hinata takes a deep, calming breath before moving herself onto his lap in one hurried motion, her thighs straddling his.
Her arms go around him, embracing him and she rests her head at his heart, listening to the constant flutter of his heartbeat, that soothing thump-thump-thump.
They stay like that for long moments, until finally, Shino’s arms come around her as well.
“Hinata…”
And that’s all the permission Hinata needs.
Hinata looks up, resting her palms uncertainly against his chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tilts her head up and clumsily presses her lips against his before she has a chance to hyperventilate and faint at the prospect of what she’s about to do.
Her lips stay immobile against his for a second-a second in which she’s acutely aware of the skip of Shino’s heartbeat beneath her palms-and then they pull away just a fraction, before coming back together, with just a little bit more pressure this time.
It’s tentative and slow, and despite having kissed him before, Hinata’s lips tremble ever so slightly when she takes his bottom lip between her teeth…
But when Shino kisses her back, equally hesitant and inexperienced, it feels perfect.
NejixHinata (crack!):
Hyuuga Neji was currently facing a great dilemma.
His arms wouldn’t move. Neither would his legs. He was -literally- beneath his cousin. Stripped naked. And she was enjoying it.
Neji glared and tried not to look at Hinata’s breasts. They were rather distracting, with her chest heaving like that.
“Hinata-sama,” he clipped out calmly, despite the fact that Hinata was straddling him, nude, and yet looking as innocent as the day she was born. “I feel obliged to inform you that I find this very inappropriate behav-ahh-”
Hinata lifted her hips, and came back down, torturously slow, effectively silencing her destined protector.
“B-but, nii-san,” Hinata said and cocked her head to the side innocently, effortlessly forcing a stutter into her words. “Won’t you say it? …Please?” she entreated, lower lip trembling as if she was about to cry.
But oh no, Neji would not be fooled by his lover’s feminine wiles so easily - not again! Not when those dishonorable, underhanded methods of persuasion had landed him a Jyuuken to all four limbs-and consequently, in this situation-in the first place!
“No,” Neji gritted out, panting, and even as he denied her what she wanted, he doubted he could hold out much longer. His resolve was breaking, every time she moved her hips like that and- she was trying to kill him, he was sure, torturing him oh-so-slowly, pleased by his helplessness! He really should not have expected any less from the Main House.
Hinata clucked her tongue in disappointment, and said, meekly, “Ano… that’s, well, too bad, nii-san,” her eyebrows furrowed as she mulled over something in her mind, “because I- I was going to reward y-you… if you were g-good,” she finished softly and here, her blush darkened and she cast her eyes down demurely.
Neji’s mouth fell open in abject horror. She hadn’t been this bold the last time. Dear Fate, where had his sweet little cousin gone? “Hinata-sama…”
She brought a hand up to her mouth and took her index finger between her teeth, tongue cautiously peeking out to lick the tip. She sucked on it, face scrunching in concentration and even in such a brazen position, with a blush spreading softly over her face, she managed to look like the picture of purity.
Neji almost gave up the last ounces of his control-and dignity-when a wet hand skittered up his chest and circled around one brown nipple.
He whimpered-whimpered-and wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.
Hinata pulled back her hand immediately and faked a startled expression, blinking large lavender eyes innocently. “D-did that feel g-good, nii-san?”
Oh god, no. Just no. He wasn’t about to say anything to give her the satisfaction.
Hinata looked pleased with his reaction, as if she was congratulating him for making ANBU.
“Won’t you- say it now? For me?” she asked again, patiently, teeth biting softly into her lower lip in a parody of anxiety.
Neji bit his own lip to keep from saying anything, but it was hard because he had never been able to deny her anything she wanted, and the faintest noise escaped from his throat anyway, when her hand traveled down, down, down and-
“Say it.”
There was an edge of steel to her voice that he only heard when she refused to back down. “Say it, niisan,” she whispered again and then slammed back down on him so hard that Neji saw white.
Through blurry vision, he saw Hinata-his cousin, leader, friend, lover-throwing her head back, hair falling over her thighs, lips parted and panting and so unraveled and- the words she had been wanting to hear threatened to spill from his lips, he didn’t do anything to stop them.
“Hinata-sama, please…”
I can’t believe I just wrote that. This was originally for a friend who wanted something sexy. It’s the first time I try to write NejixHina as sexy (and not angsty), and this is what comes out. Oh god, no… *dies*
SasukexSakura:
She always comes to him in the night.
Sasuke doesn’t know why she keeps torturing herself like that - she must know this’ll amount to nothing but (more) bitterness in the end. She wants him despite everything, but Sasuke isn’t sure if there’s anything left to want - like most prisoners, there’s little left of him once his dignity had been stripped away.
Konoha is good at keeping its strays chained.
She’s barely spoken five sentences to him during the first three months of his return and in those three months, most of her time in the compound has been spent cleaning and doing all the little things nobody else - not even Sasuke - has thought of.
As if doing so will somehow make the still-lingering stench of ruin and old blood go away.
She wipes years of dust from old scrolls that have never seen the light; stuffs his fridge with vegetables he never eats; arranges into neat stacks picture frames that have never evoked happy memories, only sadness; sows in his mother’s garden sunflower seeds that never bloom.
Sakura wonders if that is because no ever light enters the compound, or because the lifeblood of the dead has forever tainted the soil.
The house obstinately resists her efforts to breathe life back into it - it’s been dead for a decade and a half, and it likes it that way, because in death, it has become forever feared by those of the world outside its four walls.
She sees him naked, once.
It happens on a night reminiscent of the one on which they had parted.
Sakura sees feathers, black and translucent in the wan lighting, blocking out the moon as she’s about to put her boots on. The dust has all been shuffled away for the day, Naruto is waiting for her at the ramen stand despite his busy schedule and she should go - her work here is done. Yet…
She doesn’t know what drives her to do it - to rush up to his bedroom as if Naruto’s life depends on it and fling it open. She doesn’t know what she had expected-perhaps cold dismissal or even colder silence-but she hadn’t expected Sasuke to be huddled in the corner, shivering and looking more emaciated that she’s seen him this morning.
He barely looks up when she enters, as if he hasn’t even heard her come in - instead, he’s looking at the kunai in his hand with childlike fascination.
But his eyes are dead, unseeing and they reflect the glint of the kunai in the moonlight when his hand moves and-
Sakura lunges without thought, a scream tearing from her throat in that moment and she stumbles over something - a glass bottle - in her haste and only sheer desperation keeps her from falling and propels her forward.
The first thing she’s aware of is the startled look in Sasuke’s eyes after the kunai clatters to the ground, the sound deafeningly loud in the morbid silence, a silence which she breaks by yanking Sasuke forward by the collar and punching him so hard that his head hits the wall behind him with a sickening thud.
Are you fucking mad? she screams, hysterical, her breaths coming in sporadic gasps. Her eyes rove wildly around his face for any sign-any sign-of life, but there’s nothing there except for the slight widening of his eyes and even then, he looks more dazed than alive, as if what had just happened still hadn’t registered.
Sakura shakes him-you can’t kill yourself, not now-and he does nothing to stop her, just willingly sags against the wall and lets her shake the life out of him like a rag doll as blood trickles from his split lips. Sasuke! she screams, Sasuke-kun! and slaps his cheeks to get a reaction but he merely blinks. His cheeks feel numb and so does the rest of his body.
Alcohol is good, he decides, alcohol makes his body sluggish, makes him so so aware of he blood rushing in his veins, makes the high, hysterical pitch of Sakura’s voice sound like a dull echo, makes him want to close his eyes and never wake up.
Never waking up sounds good. It sounds better than anything has in a long time and that makes a shadow of a smile flit across his face.
Sakura misses it. She is still screaming at him-you have to live, Sasuke-kun, are you listening to me? you have to-
There’s nothing left to live for, Sasuke wheezes, voice coarse from disuse, and pries Sakura’s hands gently off his collars.
Sakura lets him, fingers slack with shock - how long has it been since she had heard that voice? A month? Or even more?
Sasuke takes in her face-the wide green eyes, the speechless set of her mouth-and smiles. Feels like a sleepwalker. Feels as if he’s floating underwater.
Maybe it’s the rush of alcohol in his veins or maybe it’s something else, but there’s something about her stricken expression that’s so suddenly hilarious that it makes him want to laugh.
It starts out with giggles - snorts he tries to suppress behind the back of his hand - but then his shoulders start shaking as soon as he sees the look on her face, the gasp she hides behind her hand, the horror in her eyes, and then he’s laughing.
And it feels so goddamn liberating.
He laughs until he shakes all over, until the force of his shaking makes him stumble and bump his shoulder against the sharp edge of a cabinet. He laughs until his sides hurt, until he clutches his flanks and sinks down to his knees because it requires too much effort to stand. He laughs until the sound echoes throughout the room; laughs until he can’t take it anymore and crouches into a ball on the ground, his forehead barely grazing the floor. He laughs until he starts to cry and tears streak down his face and hit the ground.
They’re happy tears though, because he’s still laughing, isn’t he?
There’s only a little shuffling when Sakura sinks down to her knees, numbly, and pulls his head into her lap.
“You have to live.” He hears her whisper. “For Naruto, for me…”
His giggles are dying out by now, smothered in her skirt and he breathes in to get some much-needed air only to inhale soap and detergent and antiseptic.
It’s intoxicating.
Even more so than the bitter taste of beer and the metallic tang of his blood, it seems, because he crawls up her body, using her arms for support and buries his neck into her shoulder, where sweaty pink strands stick, to see if she smells the same there too.
She does and he giggles some more and tips her body backward, because it feels like the only thing to do right now, and pushes her down on the ground.
Sakura’s hand knocks against something - the goddamned glass bottle - and it rolls away quietly to vanish in the blanket of darkness.
Are you done now? she asks as he looks blearily down at her, tears leaking from her eyes, because she hadn’t known anything about his pain at all, hadn’t seen his call for help all this time even when she had been two rooms away, hadn’t done anything.
When she buries her hand in unruly black hair and brings him close Sasuke doesn’t protest - he’s too dizzy from all the colors swirling before his eyes. Eyes he closes without protest, when Sakura kisses him, hard and hungry and raw and with devastating emotion.
She feels the mental weariness of the years weighing his body down on hers. She tastes the blood on his lips and alcohol on his tongue, and the salt of his-and her-drying tears. It isn’t the most pleasant combination, but she keeps kissing him anyway, because he needs it, she tells herself. He needs to forget (everything) and she needs to remember (him and how he feels).
Sakura stifles a sob against his lips and his last thought before he allows himself to descend into shame is of her name.
It becomes something primal after that - something animalistic and obscene as Sakura’s hands claw frantically at his back, fingers digging in and scoring down, trying to give back all the pain he’s caused her.
The moon takes refuge behind a thicket of clouds - swamped in darkness, Sasuke sees nothing and everything. He sees a blur of pink and white and feels skin, soft and supple, break and burn and bleed where his hands touch. He hears her screams - screams that metamorphose, reshape themselves to sound like a dirge for his murdered kin - and growls something deep and guttural when he parts her legs and takes her, violently, brutally, madly, against the wooden floorboards which creak dangerously with his thrusts.
He buries into her that festering loneliness, that hunger for madness, and destruction; and that burning desire to snap the fragile thread holding his sanity together, to fall off the edge and drown in despair because there’s nothing left.
There’s nothing left of her either by the time he’s done.
He lies over her like a motionless, a corporeal shell without a soul and wonders if she can somehow breathe life back into him.
He knows she can’t because she’s barely breathing herself. He doesn’t look at her face when he rolls away - he should be feeling drained and lethargic right now, but he only feels alert, feels a prickling awareness traipse over his skin as Sakura watches his back.
“Sasuke-kun…”
She whispers and reaches out to touch him, and all he can do is leap back from her (because every place she’s touched now burns with shame and regret), knocking his knee against the glass bottle in his mad dash for the corner. The bottle shatters as it is sent careening against the wall, and the sound is like the screaming of a thousand broken hearts.
Sasuke curls up into a naked ball and stays like that, a trapped animal, cowering not in fear, but shame.
Sakura gathers up her tattered clothes and leaves, the door closing silently behind her. It is only after she leaves the district that she allows herself to cry - for Sasuke and his pain, for Naruto and his shattered dreams, and only then does she shed a few tears for herself and her broken heart.
She doesn’t visit him for weeks after that - isn’t even worried that he’ll kill himself because she knows he won’t, not over her. To him, she’s never really mattered much, after all.
Things don’t go back to normal after she starts visiting him again.
It happens again a few times.
When she approaches him in the cover of night, he pretends it never happened, tells her to leave, refuses to do it again, because he doesn’t know whether he’ll stay sane if he does (does those unspeakable things to her again, does things that make him feel like a beast in human skin-).
Something’s changed in her in the days she had spent away from the compound, wandering aimlessly through her own house, which suddenly feels as alien as the compound itself. Some intrinsic part of her has been remodeled to take on a sharper edge, because Sakura pushes him against the wall and pushes herself against him.
Sakura knows no one can fix him - he has to fix himself. She can only be there to watch and help him pick up the smallest pieces. She doesn’t beg him to take her. She reasons with him -it’s for your own good-
He can suppress that useless little thing called lust far longer than most, but in the end, even he’s human and a slave to his emotions, and he breaks, snaps, and proceeds to throw her on the floor and break her instead.
Sasuke always lets her take the initiative, because that way, he won’t have to take the blame because-
Every time he fucks her, it kills him a little inside like it kills her. She calls it therapy. A release for bottled-up pain and anger and frustration. Sasuke calls it hell.
(I’ll take any pain you’ll give me, she’d whispered to him once, as if imparting a much coveted secret, As long as you don’t hurt yourself, and Sasuke had taken one look at her eyes and known that she was mad, mad in the way that only a schoolgirl would be for her first crush, mad for everything he’ll give her, even if it’s just a brutal fuck and a fragile piece of his broken soul)
It is always with varying amounts of disbelief that he looks at her when it’s all over, as if he still can’t believe he’s violated her in every way possible and that she’s still here, despite that. Sakura’s expression is carefully blank.
He rolls over onto the ground beside her (they never do it on the bed, because that would give this sordid arrangement of theirs too much meaning) and the places where his body had aligned with hers feel cold as soon as she gets up.
He hears the quiet thump of Sakura’s footsteps and discerns a strange, halting rhythm between it and the thumping of his own heart - she’s gathering her shredded clothes, clothes he had ripped apart like he had ripped apart everything else, everything that insisted on standing on his path to vengeance, bodies and bonds and all.
Sasuke turns his back on her and stares blankly at the wall as Sakura trudges closer to the door like an indifferent specter. There is a five-foot gap from where he lies on the ground to the door on the other side of the room. Every time she makes that small journey, he’s acutely aware of her presence moving farther and farther away, even if he can’t see her.
Being aware of something - even if it’s only Sakura - is an improvement, he decides, because he hasn’t been aware of anything ever since he’s been back.
Maybe it is therapy, like she claims, because he doesn’t feel the need to curl into himself any more every time she leaves. But maybe it’s not, because nowadays he has to suppress the urge to whisper out a desperate don’t go the moment she places her hand on the doorknob.
The door closes behind her with an audible click, promising she’ll return tomorrow.
Sasuke sighs and closes his eyes, and dreams in vibrant reds and greens and not monochrome. He knows Sakura keeps her promises. After all…
…she always comes to him in the night.
But she never stays.
Worst. SasuSaku. Ever. Actually was supposed to be a long three-parter with lots of pretty annoying metaphor and I started to type up the summary when I really should’ve been working on my sn_exchange fic. This is what came out. Some dark smut for this, please?
OrochimaruxSasuke: yes, I’m a Sasuke-whore
Kabuto had smiled at him, pushed up his glasses, and told him in a friendly enough tone, that even Orochimaru-sama’s leniency had a limit.
Just because he was the next vessel did not mean the old snake would stand for his arrogant bullshit - of course, Kabuto had used more refined language than that, but to Sasuke’s pain-fogged mind, that was the gist of it.
He couldn’t see much as he stumbled into the bathroom, not with one eye swollen shut and purple while the other barely saw through the blood gushing from his forehead and leaking into the sunken, sleep-deprived hollow of his eye socket.
Sasuke turned on the shower as hot as he could, trying to drown out the pain with searing heat.
He really hadn’t thought back on Kabuto’s words up until now - had dismissed them in an instant, because he had been parading around on Orochimaru’s grounds as if he owned the place and the old geezer still hadn’t said a word, had not even expressed a hint of displeasure, even when Sasuke had impudently told him to shut up in front of an entire batch of his precious Sound minions. Surely, Orochimaru would be a fool to harm him in any way - he was the next vessel after all…
But maybe he should’ve heeded Kabuto’s words before he had shot his mouth off and ordered Orochimaru to teach him something new when the Sannin had been enthusiastically extolling upon the virtues of meditation, to connect with your inner darkness or something along those cryptic lines.
He hadn’t caught the displeased set of Orochimaru’s usually amiably sneering mouth or the way narrow, golden eyes had narrowed even further. He had been about to take a step towards the exit, declaring that this session was pointless - a waste of his time - when he felt it: a cold, skeletal hand digging companionably into his shoulder.
He hadn’t even sensed him moving.
Sasuke’s first instinct had been to freeze and then shrug the hand off nonchalantly, and perhaps direct a disdainful look at his frowning mentor as he said, Don’t touch me.
He did none of that, because Orochimaru’s fingers dug deeper into his shoulder by a fraction of an inch, as if the Sannin had read his mind and known he was going to be an impertinent brat again.
Sasuke had stilled, because in that moment, he had been painfully aware, for the first time since he had been in Sound, that Orochimaru could kill him - break his shoulder with a press of his fingers, snap his neck with an effortless swipe of his hand.
“Fight me, boy,” Orochimaru had said in his ear, in a sibilant whisper. The words had been spoken gently enough, but that it was a command was as clear as the dungeon they inhabited was dark.
So Sasuke had fought him, and the battle had been over within seconds. Orochimaru had broken his wrist, shoved his head against the ground and then slammed him up against the wall and told him to play nice, Sasuke-kun. And there had been a mad glee in his voice, a queer satisfaction in his expression at seeing the purples patches blooming on Sasuke’s face.
Before succumbing to darkness, Sasuke remembered seeing snake-like eyes - so, so close - and feeling something wet and cold against his cheek.
Orochimaru must’ve left him for dead, because when he had regained his consciousness, the training field had been empty and his wounds were still there. He had limped across the dense network of tunnels, his way illuminated by torches hanging solemnly on the wall, barely able to keep his eyes open and still reeling from the shock of what had just happened.
Kabuto had mysteriously disappeared.
Now, as scalding water poured down his body in torrents, he could barely find the strength to keep standing. Sasuke braced his arms against the wall in front to steady himself when his vision swayed and the world tipped sideways.
The pain was nothing compared to the anguish that boiled inside him. This was necessary, he told himself, for revenge. Revenge was all that mattered.
♣
Orochimaru was a genius. But he was also vain.
To drive him to the point of ruthlessly bruising his future body was a feat, so perhaps Sasuke shouldn’t have taken for granted the supposed security offered to him as the next host. And he didn’t, not after that humiliating, bone-crushing defeat he had suffered.
He was more careful now, with his choice of words, in a way that only Orochimaru would notice. He was respectful, just enough and no more, because pride inevitably got in the way. He would never descend to the level of meek servitude - Sasuke thought of this as a practice in self-preservation.
He knew Orochimaru enjoyed this - the careful lilt of his voice, the slight pause he took before he asked or answered, the way he actually bothered to reply to Orochimaru’s queries these days-
(Ah, Sasuke-kun. How nice to see you. Did you sleep well?
…Aa, I did.)
-instead of ignoring them as if the great Sannin hadn’t even spoken.
What pleased Orochimaru even more was the way Sasuke stumbled helplessly towards the exit after their training sessions, which were getting increasingly brutal, each one more violent than the last.
Sometimes, Orochimaru activated the seal intentionally, without warning, during their training sessions, just to see him sink down to his knees and shiver at Orochimaru’s feet like a kitten out in the cold.
Orochimaru had always had a certain fondness for lost, hungry strays. He stroked Sasuke’s hair on those days, felt along his face with cold, slimy fingers, almost soothingly, almost as if Sasuke was a precious pet and on those days, as he blinked back the darkness, Sasuke hated the man.
He hated himself even more when said man - madman - bent down to lick his cheek and he did nothing but accept it, because that hand was still there, on his shoulder, so close to his jugular; because Orochimaru still taught him jutsu after jutsu, didn’t he? And that’s all that should matter - more power. Because he needed it, to get his hands on Itachi’s neck and squeeze and squeeze until he was nothing but a corpse, too, like the rest of his family; he needed the power to accomplish his revenge, because without revenge his existence meant nothing.
That was what he told himself when he found himself bruised, delirious and naked somewhere in Orochimaru’s lair - he couldn’t really say where though. His vision was too blurry for that - a confusing swirl of grey and blue and green.
The curse seal throbbed painfully on his neck, a constant reminder of what Orochimaru held over him - complete control.
Sasuke was numb. He felt nothing except for the strange cold sensation that seemed to pervade his body - it really wasn’t much different from the feel of Orochimaru’s touches.
Every place Orochimaru… caressed seemed to become colder, as if his withered fingers had the ability to sap warmth out of everything they came in contact with.
“Such pretty skin you have, Sasuke-kun…”
There was something cold and wet and sloppy against his cheek - a tongue. There were hands roving over his face, blocking his vision, fingers in his hair, playing idly with black strands.
“And such pretty hair…”
Then there were giggles - mad, amused giggles - against his jaw as he felt himself being lifted by the hair and staring straight into crazed amber eyes, and Sasuke suddenly found himself unable to comprehend the depth of this man's madness.
It was at that moment that Sasuke knew that when Orochimaru had wanted his body in exchange for that much-coveted revenge, he had literally wanted it. He should’ve thought through before making a deal with the devil - Orochimaru would train him, give him food and the clothes on his back, and treat him like royalty. Orochimaru would also fuck him.
And this was where the price of revenge just seemed too high.
“Fuck… you…” Sasuke managed to grit out, voice rough from disuse (because he was unusually silent these days - Orochimaru liked him silent unless he was spoken to); and then he screamed when the fingers in his hair tightened, and yanked hard enough to dislodge a few strands from his skull.
“And such ugly words from that pretty mouth…You really haven’t learned, have you, Sasuke-kun?”
Sasuke didn’t answer, just bit his lips against the pain when Orochimaru threw him to the ground, as carelessly as one might throw away used shuriken.
He felt Orochimaru rearranging his limbs with care, as if he was something delicate - a marionette, perhaps - until Sasuke was kneeling on all fours, and staring unseeingly at the ground.
Orochimaru appraised his handiwork and was satisfied. His hand traveled down the curve of Sasuke’s spine, down until his fingers slipped in effortlessly into the cleft of his ass and Sasuke screamed in shock at the intrusion.
The boy bucked, writhed and tried to crawl away and Orochimaru smiled in sincere pleasure as he observed.
Orochimaru liked admiring pretty things. He liked breaking them even more.
♣
Oh god, see? I totally start out with every intention of writing porn, but the characters are just so silly! They're more interested in angsting than having a good time, so it's not my fault at all.
Go ahead! Write porn based on the ficlets above, or with pairings of your own - hopefully, they'll inspire me to actually get working on my darker projects, which have been rotting in my hard drive for quite a while now! Someone please write me some Team Seven sexytimez - I really need it to de-stress
Exhausted,
indira14.
More specifically, I think I somehow lost my ability - drive? - to write porn somewhere along the way last month, when I was still writing my exchange fic, and Naruto and Sasuke were being stupid - they just didn't want to get written. But really, why include porn when it is not needed? (Sheesh, now I know how syrraki felt every time I told her write MOAR of the good stuff).
I did spend my time typing up some fics with porny potential, though, when I really should've been working on the exchange instead. Unfortunately, I won't have time to focus on these half-baked ideas anytime soon, so I decided we could have a... porn meme of sorts:
1. Read the short (unfinished) oneshots posted below.
2. Choose one or more and either continue them in a comment, or write some porn based on it.
3. If none of the pairings below appeal to you, then choose a pairing of your liking and post a porny drabble on it. (Length is totally dependant on the writer, of course - it can be something long and detailed, or something as short as a sentence.)
4. Everyone is welcome to continue each other's comment!fics.
5. Write porn of the sexy/sensual/sweet/soft/silly/sadistic/sick kind, but most importantly, have fun! :D
Hopefully, this'll get my inner pervert pouring out naughty things to be written in my ears again, so here goes:
SasukexNaruto:
They fuck.
That’s what they do whenever they ‘accidentally’ encounter each other in between Naruto’s missions and Sasuke’s ever-present pursuit of revenge.
The first time, though, is an accident.
It happens in a bar. Long story short, Naruto sees him, Sasuke runs and when Naruto catches up (read: when Sasuke lets him catch up), they fight - or brawl, really, because civilian areas aren’t really the most suitable places for epic battles to the death.
The Red Light District is aglow with a thousand paper lanterns and crawling with promiscuous women with painted faces. Naruto doesn’t want to think about what Sasuke’s doing here, of all places, because he’s here and that’s all that matters.
Wrapped in shadows, behind one of the seedier brothels in the district, they exchange words. To put it more accurately, Naruto screams at Sasuke (Konoha is your home. Get that through your thick skull, you asshole) and Sasuke replies with infuriating indifference. (Still going on about that, Naruto? You haven’t changed.).
When words fail (as they always do), they exchange blows, and Sasuke suddenly isn’t such a cold son of a bitch anymore.
He’s like fire - that’s the first thought that runs through Naruto’s mind when he stumbles in the dark, and Sasuke backs him up against the wall and kisses him. The thought is quickly followed by ‘fuck,’ and then nothing at all.
Sasuke calls his name, once, and then never again.
The second time, it happens on a rooftop.
Naruto is in the market, wondering what souvenir to get Sakura, when he catches a flash of red eyes and a black cloak disappearing past an alleyway. He drops the pink sea-shell he’s been examining, and runs after that elusive figure, desperation and a thousand ‘why’s thrumming through his veins.
They fuck in broad daylight. Naruto gags Sasuke with his headband, in case Sasuke’s cries alert the rest of his team, and pushes Sasuke’s knees up to his ears.
The sky overhead is that particular shade of blue that Sasuke hates - he closes his eyes against the sunlight and embraces the red-dappled darkness.
It happens a few more times - just quick flings against a solid surface, always somewhere conveniently deserted (or at least dark) - always rushed and furious, and frantic, but still eerily quiet. Nothing but repressed groans, frenzied thrusts, a few muffled curses, the rustle of clothes… and the sound of footsteps growing dimmer.
Every time that happens, Naruto tries to yank Sasuke back by the sleeve, pin him down and beat some sense into his head. Sasuke goes down willingly, fisting his hands in Naruto’s hair, kissing him like it’s the last time. But by the time he’s done with Naruto, Naruto lies too exhausted to do anything but watch black sandals in his peripheral vision get farther away with each passing second.
Naruto covers his face with his hand and thinks fuck you, dammit and is relieved Sasuke’s not here to see this. The stinging behind his eyes is nothing new.
By the ninth time it happens, Naruto’s gotten quite good at making up excuses and leaving his team to ‘just mess around a little’. It’s not exactly a lie. He’s also gotten good at sensing Sasuke - he knows Sasuke’s there, even if he can’t see him.
Naruto bites into his palm to keep in the groan when Sasuke drives in so hard that he throws his head back and strains like a taut bow against Sasuke’s body. He wants to say something, something futile, but he wants to say it nonetheless.
Sasuke thrusts in again, brutally. He must’ve known what Naruto’s going to say - it’s the same thing every time - because he picks up the pace, as if he suddenly wants this to be over quick.
That still doesn’t stop Naruto from wanting to say it, though. He yanks Sasuke’s face close by the hair and tells him harshly, “Fuck, come back. Just come b-”
Sasuke shoves a palm over his mouth, because he doesn’t need to -want to- hear this, and comes.
Naruto doesn’t know when this madness starts becoming an all-consuming obsession. And he doesn’t really care because he thinks it’s worth it, these trysts - the sneaking out, the risk (thrill) of being caught, thrown in jail for treason - especially when Sasuke makes that interesting noise, keening as if he’s being strangled.
He tries to muffle it into Naruto’s mouth, as a rough hand works on his cock, nestled somewhere between their clothes. They don’t bother to strip completely these days - it’s always over within minutes. Besides, Naruto doesn’t really mind the silken swish of Sasuke’s haori against his skin, not the coarse feel of Sasuke’s pants against his bare thighs.
Naruto’s other hand fists in Sasuke’s coarse locks, knuckles bleeding white in black hair.
It’s an alley this time, shadowed and secluded and smelling of sweat and sex, narrow enough that Sasuke can plant his feet on the wall opposite and let Naruto hoist him up and fuck him, without getting on hands and knees. He’s too proud for that.
He ignores the zig-zag outcroppings of bricks jutting out of the wall and into his back when Naruto thrusts up - hard, all the way - and concentrates on the pleasurable delirium thrumming through his veins.
It makes his cursed eyes see white - stark, blissful white and not red - and he’s glad; he closes his eyes and frantically slams himself down on Naruto.
This time, he doesn’t quite manage to muffle the moan that claws its way out of his throat because Naruto tears his mouth away, gasping, and nudges the white fabric on a pale shoulder aside with his nose; the sleeve falls away, draping from his body and leaving his shoulder exposed.
Then Naruto buries his nose deeper into his neck, turns his head up slightly and breathes him in. Deep and slow and gasping and so fond and gentle that Sasuke freezes.
“Sasuke...” Naruto’s voice drags against salty skin, all anguish and longing and mindless obsession, and Sasuke hates him for saying his name like that.
“Shut up,” he rasps, because this means nothing. “Shut up,” he growls again, and bites his lip to keep from calling out Naruto’s name.
NarutoxSakura:
Sex with Naruto is a new experience every time.
In the mornings, it’s just a roll in the sheets-lazy and drawn out until the sunrises high; but most of the time, a roll in the sheets is all it is -quick and playful- with the clock ticking, and only ten minutes remaining till Sakura’s morning shift.
Despite that, Sakura always gives in, but not before protesting. Though, only half-heartedly, because Naruto is persistent enough to annoy her into having sex.
These days Naruto uses more subtle-but no less devious-tactics of seduction. Sakura knows she’s lost the battle when Naruto looks at her like that: eyes sparkling with mischief, grin threatening to stretch from ear to ear and rough, purposeful fingers disappearing under her night shirt to lazily graze skin. And that’s all the warning she gets before Naruto pounces.
Sakura discovers that tickling and puppy eyes are a lethal combination.
Tsunade merely sighs when she comes in late for work, with frazzled bed hair and a loopy grin.
Sometimes, it’s soft and gentle and Naruto smiles against her breast and tells her she’s beautiful. Sakura flushes, merely laughs it off, but then Naruto looks at her all serious -like he really means it - and kisses her, so sweet and heartfelt, that she can’t help but kiss back. If she’s in a good mood, she jokingly tells him, hey, you’re not half bad either. Naruto makes a face at her and tells her he prefers to be called dashingly handsome, not beautiful.
Evenings, when they manage to make time in between training and missions and hospital work, are always calm and peaceful. At least, at first.
It starts out with innocent cuddling underneath the starlight. Shoulders brushing and her hand in his, they sit in the middle of the training grounds, just two souls in a world of many, and talk about everything - they confide in each other.
Naruto tells her about his more gruesome missions and how he feels like throwing up every time he takes a life. Sakura tells him how she wants to scream and curse and cry every time she fails to save one.
But mostly though, they talk about the little things - about training and the new jutsu they’ve been working on; about Sai’s new workshop and how Kakashi really does look like a scarecrow in his new robes.
They never talk about Sasuke.
Then they snicker about how absurd it is that Shikamaru has a horde of women - all strong and willful and troublesome - fighting for his attention and proceed to make fun of how everyone in their age group is pairing up, until Sakura points out that hey, we’ve paired up too now, haven’t we?
Naruto chuckles at that and softly nuzzles her neck, as if he agrees. But Sakura knows his mannerisms well enough by now - perhaps better than he does - and knows what he really asking - Have we? - and it pains her to know he still thinks of himself as second-best.
She laughs in return and strokes his hair to reassure him that, yes, we have.
Naruto tells her amusing anecdotes from his missions (he claims to have made friends with a giant squid on a mission to Wave Country - had he been anyone else, Sakura would’ve accused him of bluffing). Sakura smiles and giggles at Naruto’s jokes even when they’re not that funny, but mostly just watches Naruto chatter animatedly and flail his arms around with an enthusiasm that makes her want to kiss him senseless for being Naruto.
She resists the urge to do so because she likes hearing Naruto talk (to think she had once hated it!), loves listening to the slightly boyish cadence of his voice and the sight of him being happy makes her happy. Her self-restraint, though, has other plans: the moment Naruto turns to look at her with that eye-crinkling grin, self-restraint whistles lecherously, mutters an “Adios, amigo!” and takes a vacation for the rest of the night.
Sakura tackles Naruto to the ground with all the strength and precision of an untamed feline and kisses him, tongue driving in forcefully past startled lips.
Naruto, after blinking several times (just to check if this was indeed real), groans into her mouth and fists his hands into her hair, deepening the kiss until it becomes something intimate and needy, until each second they’re apart becomes a second too long.
Wow. Nice to know you missed me,, Naruto murmurs, smiling and breathless. Then his tone becomes more flirtatious, You could’ve just asked, Sakura-chan.
Just- Sakura gasps as a calloused palm slides up her thigh, Just shut up and kiss me.
Naruto chuckles and proceeds to do just that.
At night, things get more adventurous.
Naruto slides in one finger, then two, and Sakura almost comes from that alone. He lifts her hips up, clawed fingers digging into skin, and then sinks her down in one fluid motion on his cock.
By that time, Sakura’s usually unable to do anything but scratch at his back for more and when Naruto growls huskily in her ear - Ride me, Sakura -Sakura obeys, because she likes it when he says her name like that.
Sex with Naruto is fun when he teases her; maddening when he drags sharpening canine against the dimples above her hips; playful when Sakura dresses up in that tight, tight nurse’s outfit and straddles him; erotic when Sakura ties him up and touches that pressure point behind his ear with feather-light fingers, and Naruto comes then and there.
But most of all, sex with Naruto is unpredictable - he’s always full of surprises.
That, Sakura thinks, is an understatement as Naruto waves his-her?- left hand around frantically, trying to convince Sakura that, this is an awesome idea! come on, Sakura-chan~!; his right hand shoves an unedited edition of Icha Icha Sexy no Jutsu in her face.
Sakura had always known that Naruto was shameless- but not this shameless.
“NO, NARUTO!”
Sakura yells for the nth time, on the verge of hyperventilating, as Naruto begins to describe, in detail, how good it could feel.
“Alright, alright-”
Naruto-Naruko?- warily eying Sakura’s raised fist, holds her hands up in a placating gesture, and it blocks full, bouncy breasts from view.
Sakura blinks, and finds herself cursing mentally in disbelief when her eyes unintentionally try to gaze past small, soft hands. There is a feminine pout on Naruto’s lips, lower lips jutting out and looking so deliciously inviting-
Sakura snaps out of her daze to clear her throat and looks at anywhere but Naruto. The smoke from the jutsu has long since disappeared, and Naruto isn’t even doing anything to hide his - her - body, as if he pranced around naked liked that every day. Whixh he does sometimes, when he’s in their apartment, but Sakura has bigger problems to think about. Like how she feels her nipples straining against her top at the thought of Naruto-Naruko?-naked.
“Good!” she says, voice unusually high. “Now change back.”
Sakura proceeds to busy herself with fiddling around with the hideously clashing piles of red and orange clothes in the wardrobe, her back to Naruto. I’m not a lesbian, she assures herself. I’m not a lesbian, she chants in her mind repeatedly, until she’s convinced herself that she, indeed, is not a lesbian, despite the fact that one time, both she and Ino had gotten so drunk that-
“Hey, Sa-ku-ra-chan~!”
-Sakura screams and jumps ten feet in the air and turns around wildly to see big, blue eyes blinking at her innocently. She sags against the wardrobe, clutching her chest and telling her heart to calm down, it’s just Naruto.
“Don’t scare me like that!” Sakura snaps.
Naruto blinks again -her eyelashes are so long and pretty, Sakura suddenly notices- lower lip jutting out and teeth biting into it softly. Sakura’s eyes widen. Oh my god-
“I know you want to, Sakura-chan,” Naruto says throatily against Sakura’s jaw, voice softly ghosting across sensitive skin. Sakura shivers, lightning glancing up and down her spine.
“Don’t you want to know how it’d feel to do this?”
Naruto presses their breasts together and Sakura’s nipples harden instantly, her mouth falling open in an involuntary gasp. She shudders when Naruto purrs against her neck like a kitten and a tongue darts past feminine lips to lick at her ear.
“Think about it,” Naruto murmurs sexily into her ear, eyes drooping with lust. “Wouldn’t it be fun to dominate me, for once?”
Sakura’s eyes widen at that prospect -having Naruto helpless and under her, vulnerable and willing to please- and she feels herself getting unbearably wet. She tries to instinctively press her thighs together to relieve some of the tension, but Naruto instantly parts them with a slender knee and moans, long and deliberate in her ear, as if he’s actually coming.
“I’ll do anything you want me to, Sakura-chan.”
Oh god, Sakura’s mind screams, he just did not quote Jiraiya’s trashy heroines. But more importantly, she did not find herself liking it.
“I- Naruto, stop!” Sakura gasps, squirms as slim fingers - soft, not calloused - disappear under her black shorts to do something that makes her knees wobble. “I told you. I’m not- a lesbian,” Sakura manages through gritted teeth, fierce green eyes defiant, and if her voice wavers, it’s only because Naruto is so damn distracting.
Naruto laughs and the sound is more of a giggle: tinkling and soft and melodious-not the deep-throated chuckle she’s accustomed to-but it still sends a jolt of heat rushing between her legs.
“We won’t know if we don’t try.”
And suddenly there’s a pair a of lips on hers and it’s soft and wet and warm, nothing like the rough and chapped and dry ones she’s used to. Sakura squeaks in surprise, eyes flying wide open. It’s different, and Sakura almost goes crazy when Naruto - intentionally or not - whimpers submissively against her mouth and-oh god, feeling this good should be illegal.
It takes a while before Sakura stops blinking and regains her mental facilities, but when she does, she tells that voice of morality in her head to go screw it, and kisses back.
ponytail tugging and dominant!Sakura, anyone? ;)
ShinoxHinata:
Hinata clears her throat, and looks down at the nervously clasped hands on her lap. She tries very hard not to squirm.
Shino observes her through green eyes and waits - he’s never rushed her and never will. He’s an Aburame, and he understands the intimacy shared in silence better than most do, but he’s never known the intimacy of touch. If she chooses to change her mind now, he will not say anything.
It’s awkward to be just sitting on the bed like this, half-naked, not even two feet apart. The task set before them seems daunting - compared to that, kissing now seems so simple.
Hinata’s blush spreads down her neck when she steals a glance at Shino’s bare chest through a dark fringe of hair.
It’s taken them three months to hold hands, eight more to kiss, and another seven to go on an official date. But, after two years, they’re here finally and neither of them really know what to do.
She’s thought about it sometimes-and she knows Shino must’ve too-but thinking something and actually doing it isn’t the same thing.
“I-” Hinata starts and abruptly cuts herself off, because her voice sounds unnaturally loud in the silence. Shino’s fingers twitch against the sheets, as if resisting the urge to curl into them.
“Can-can I… touch you, Shino-kun?” she murmurs finally and ducks her head into her chest in acute embarrassment - that really isn’t how she had planned for it to come out.
Silence reigns, tic-toc, and it’s a moment before Shino answers.
“You… want to touch me?”
HInata gathers the scrambled remains of her courage and says, bravely, “Yes.”
She looks directly into his eyes-his slightly wide, surprised eyes; Shino looks more human without the glasses somehow-and her lips press into a thin, determined line.
“So… can I?” Hinata asks, voice not quite as steady as she would like it to be.
Shino gives her a nod, and looks away from her, a faint, barely-there blush slowly creeping up on his cheeks too. And somehow, that makes her feel better.
She boldly lays a hand on his thigh, fingers digging into the black material of his pants in anxiety. Hinata leans forward, observing Shino’s reaction through lowered lashes and he tenses - whether at the proximity or scrutiny, she can’t tell. But, the red on his cheeks darkens and Hinata takes a deep, calming breath before moving herself onto his lap in one hurried motion, her thighs straddling his.
Her arms go around him, embracing him and she rests her head at his heart, listening to the constant flutter of his heartbeat, that soothing thump-thump-thump.
They stay like that for long moments, until finally, Shino’s arms come around her as well.
“Hinata…”
And that’s all the permission Hinata needs.
Hinata looks up, resting her palms uncertainly against his chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tilts her head up and clumsily presses her lips against his before she has a chance to hyperventilate and faint at the prospect of what she’s about to do.
Her lips stay immobile against his for a second-a second in which she’s acutely aware of the skip of Shino’s heartbeat beneath her palms-and then they pull away just a fraction, before coming back together, with just a little bit more pressure this time.
It’s tentative and slow, and despite having kissed him before, Hinata’s lips tremble ever so slightly when she takes his bottom lip between her teeth…
But when Shino kisses her back, equally hesitant and inexperienced, it feels perfect.
NejixHinata (crack!):
Hyuuga Neji was currently facing a great dilemma.
His arms wouldn’t move. Neither would his legs. He was -literally- beneath his cousin. Stripped naked. And she was enjoying it.
Neji glared and tried not to look at Hinata’s breasts. They were rather distracting, with her chest heaving like that.
“Hinata-sama,” he clipped out calmly, despite the fact that Hinata was straddling him, nude, and yet looking as innocent as the day she was born. “I feel obliged to inform you that I find this very inappropriate behav-ahh-”
Hinata lifted her hips, and came back down, torturously slow, effectively silencing her destined protector.
“B-but, nii-san,” Hinata said and cocked her head to the side innocently, effortlessly forcing a stutter into her words. “Won’t you say it? …Please?” she entreated, lower lip trembling as if she was about to cry.
But oh no, Neji would not be fooled by his lover’s feminine wiles so easily - not again! Not when those dishonorable, underhanded methods of persuasion had landed him a Jyuuken to all four limbs-and consequently, in this situation-in the first place!
“No,” Neji gritted out, panting, and even as he denied her what she wanted, he doubted he could hold out much longer. His resolve was breaking, every time she moved her hips like that and- she was trying to kill him, he was sure, torturing him oh-so-slowly, pleased by his helplessness! He really should not have expected any less from the Main House.
Hinata clucked her tongue in disappointment, and said, meekly, “Ano… that’s, well, too bad, nii-san,” her eyebrows furrowed as she mulled over something in her mind, “because I- I was going to reward y-you… if you were g-good,” she finished softly and here, her blush darkened and she cast her eyes down demurely.
Neji’s mouth fell open in abject horror. She hadn’t been this bold the last time. Dear Fate, where had his sweet little cousin gone? “Hinata-sama…”
She brought a hand up to her mouth and took her index finger between her teeth, tongue cautiously peeking out to lick the tip. She sucked on it, face scrunching in concentration and even in such a brazen position, with a blush spreading softly over her face, she managed to look like the picture of purity.
Neji almost gave up the last ounces of his control-and dignity-when a wet hand skittered up his chest and circled around one brown nipple.
He whimpered-whimpered-and wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.
Hinata pulled back her hand immediately and faked a startled expression, blinking large lavender eyes innocently. “D-did that feel g-good, nii-san?”
Oh god, no. Just no. He wasn’t about to say anything to give her the satisfaction.
Hinata looked pleased with his reaction, as if she was congratulating him for making ANBU.
“Won’t you- say it now? For me?” she asked again, patiently, teeth biting softly into her lower lip in a parody of anxiety.
Neji bit his own lip to keep from saying anything, but it was hard because he had never been able to deny her anything she wanted, and the faintest noise escaped from his throat anyway, when her hand traveled down, down, down and-
“Say it.”
There was an edge of steel to her voice that he only heard when she refused to back down. “Say it, niisan,” she whispered again and then slammed back down on him so hard that Neji saw white.
Through blurry vision, he saw Hinata-his cousin, leader, friend, lover-throwing her head back, hair falling over her thighs, lips parted and panting and so unraveled and- the words she had been wanting to hear threatened to spill from his lips, he didn’t do anything to stop them.
“Hinata-sama, please…”
I can’t believe I just wrote that. This was originally for a friend who wanted something sexy. It’s the first time I try to write NejixHina as sexy (and not angsty), and this is what comes out. Oh god, no… *dies*
SasukexSakura:
She always comes to him in the night.
Sasuke doesn’t know why she keeps torturing herself like that - she must know this’ll amount to nothing but (more) bitterness in the end. She wants him despite everything, but Sasuke isn’t sure if there’s anything left to want - like most prisoners, there’s little left of him once his dignity had been stripped away.
Konoha is good at keeping its strays chained.
She’s barely spoken five sentences to him during the first three months of his return and in those three months, most of her time in the compound has been spent cleaning and doing all the little things nobody else - not even Sasuke - has thought of.
As if doing so will somehow make the still-lingering stench of ruin and old blood go away.
She wipes years of dust from old scrolls that have never seen the light; stuffs his fridge with vegetables he never eats; arranges into neat stacks picture frames that have never evoked happy memories, only sadness; sows in his mother’s garden sunflower seeds that never bloom.
Sakura wonders if that is because no ever light enters the compound, or because the lifeblood of the dead has forever tainted the soil.
The house obstinately resists her efforts to breathe life back into it - it’s been dead for a decade and a half, and it likes it that way, because in death, it has become forever feared by those of the world outside its four walls.
She sees him naked, once.
It happens on a night reminiscent of the one on which they had parted.
Sakura sees feathers, black and translucent in the wan lighting, blocking out the moon as she’s about to put her boots on. The dust has all been shuffled away for the day, Naruto is waiting for her at the ramen stand despite his busy schedule and she should go - her work here is done. Yet…
She doesn’t know what drives her to do it - to rush up to his bedroom as if Naruto’s life depends on it and fling it open. She doesn’t know what she had expected-perhaps cold dismissal or even colder silence-but she hadn’t expected Sasuke to be huddled in the corner, shivering and looking more emaciated that she’s seen him this morning.
He barely looks up when she enters, as if he hasn’t even heard her come in - instead, he’s looking at the kunai in his hand with childlike fascination.
But his eyes are dead, unseeing and they reflect the glint of the kunai in the moonlight when his hand moves and-
Sakura lunges without thought, a scream tearing from her throat in that moment and she stumbles over something - a glass bottle - in her haste and only sheer desperation keeps her from falling and propels her forward.
The first thing she’s aware of is the startled look in Sasuke’s eyes after the kunai clatters to the ground, the sound deafeningly loud in the morbid silence, a silence which she breaks by yanking Sasuke forward by the collar and punching him so hard that his head hits the wall behind him with a sickening thud.
Are you fucking mad? she screams, hysterical, her breaths coming in sporadic gasps. Her eyes rove wildly around his face for any sign-any sign-of life, but there’s nothing there except for the slight widening of his eyes and even then, he looks more dazed than alive, as if what had just happened still hadn’t registered.
Sakura shakes him-you can’t kill yourself, not now-and he does nothing to stop her, just willingly sags against the wall and lets her shake the life out of him like a rag doll as blood trickles from his split lips. Sasuke! she screams, Sasuke-kun! and slaps his cheeks to get a reaction but he merely blinks. His cheeks feel numb and so does the rest of his body.
Alcohol is good, he decides, alcohol makes his body sluggish, makes him so so aware of he blood rushing in his veins, makes the high, hysterical pitch of Sakura’s voice sound like a dull echo, makes him want to close his eyes and never wake up.
Never waking up sounds good. It sounds better than anything has in a long time and that makes a shadow of a smile flit across his face.
Sakura misses it. She is still screaming at him-you have to live, Sasuke-kun, are you listening to me? you have to-
There’s nothing left to live for, Sasuke wheezes, voice coarse from disuse, and pries Sakura’s hands gently off his collars.
Sakura lets him, fingers slack with shock - how long has it been since she had heard that voice? A month? Or even more?
Sasuke takes in her face-the wide green eyes, the speechless set of her mouth-and smiles. Feels like a sleepwalker. Feels as if he’s floating underwater.
Maybe it’s the rush of alcohol in his veins or maybe it’s something else, but there’s something about her stricken expression that’s so suddenly hilarious that it makes him want to laugh.
It starts out with giggles - snorts he tries to suppress behind the back of his hand - but then his shoulders start shaking as soon as he sees the look on her face, the gasp she hides behind her hand, the horror in her eyes, and then he’s laughing.
And it feels so goddamn liberating.
He laughs until he shakes all over, until the force of his shaking makes him stumble and bump his shoulder against the sharp edge of a cabinet. He laughs until his sides hurt, until he clutches his flanks and sinks down to his knees because it requires too much effort to stand. He laughs until the sound echoes throughout the room; laughs until he can’t take it anymore and crouches into a ball on the ground, his forehead barely grazing the floor. He laughs until he starts to cry and tears streak down his face and hit the ground.
They’re happy tears though, because he’s still laughing, isn’t he?
There’s only a little shuffling when Sakura sinks down to her knees, numbly, and pulls his head into her lap.
“You have to live.” He hears her whisper. “For Naruto, for me…”
His giggles are dying out by now, smothered in her skirt and he breathes in to get some much-needed air only to inhale soap and detergent and antiseptic.
It’s intoxicating.
Even more so than the bitter taste of beer and the metallic tang of his blood, it seems, because he crawls up her body, using her arms for support and buries his neck into her shoulder, where sweaty pink strands stick, to see if she smells the same there too.
She does and he giggles some more and tips her body backward, because it feels like the only thing to do right now, and pushes her down on the ground.
Sakura’s hand knocks against something - the goddamned glass bottle - and it rolls away quietly to vanish in the blanket of darkness.
Are you done now? she asks as he looks blearily down at her, tears leaking from her eyes, because she hadn’t known anything about his pain at all, hadn’t seen his call for help all this time even when she had been two rooms away, hadn’t done anything.
When she buries her hand in unruly black hair and brings him close Sasuke doesn’t protest - he’s too dizzy from all the colors swirling before his eyes. Eyes he closes without protest, when Sakura kisses him, hard and hungry and raw and with devastating emotion.
She feels the mental weariness of the years weighing his body down on hers. She tastes the blood on his lips and alcohol on his tongue, and the salt of his-and her-drying tears. It isn’t the most pleasant combination, but she keeps kissing him anyway, because he needs it, she tells herself. He needs to forget (everything) and she needs to remember (him and how he feels).
Sakura stifles a sob against his lips and his last thought before he allows himself to descend into shame is of her name.
It becomes something primal after that - something animalistic and obscene as Sakura’s hands claw frantically at his back, fingers digging in and scoring down, trying to give back all the pain he’s caused her.
The moon takes refuge behind a thicket of clouds - swamped in darkness, Sasuke sees nothing and everything. He sees a blur of pink and white and feels skin, soft and supple, break and burn and bleed where his hands touch. He hears her screams - screams that metamorphose, reshape themselves to sound like a dirge for his murdered kin - and growls something deep and guttural when he parts her legs and takes her, violently, brutally, madly, against the wooden floorboards which creak dangerously with his thrusts.
He buries into her that festering loneliness, that hunger for madness, and destruction; and that burning desire to snap the fragile thread holding his sanity together, to fall off the edge and drown in despair because there’s nothing left.
There’s nothing left of her either by the time he’s done.
He lies over her like a motionless, a corporeal shell without a soul and wonders if she can somehow breathe life back into him.
He knows she can’t because she’s barely breathing herself. He doesn’t look at her face when he rolls away - he should be feeling drained and lethargic right now, but he only feels alert, feels a prickling awareness traipse over his skin as Sakura watches his back.
“Sasuke-kun…”
She whispers and reaches out to touch him, and all he can do is leap back from her (because every place she’s touched now burns with shame and regret), knocking his knee against the glass bottle in his mad dash for the corner. The bottle shatters as it is sent careening against the wall, and the sound is like the screaming of a thousand broken hearts.
Sasuke curls up into a naked ball and stays like that, a trapped animal, cowering not in fear, but shame.
Sakura gathers up her tattered clothes and leaves, the door closing silently behind her. It is only after she leaves the district that she allows herself to cry - for Sasuke and his pain, for Naruto and his shattered dreams, and only then does she shed a few tears for herself and her broken heart.
She doesn’t visit him for weeks after that - isn’t even worried that he’ll kill himself because she knows he won’t, not over her. To him, she’s never really mattered much, after all.
Things don’t go back to normal after she starts visiting him again.
It happens again a few times.
When she approaches him in the cover of night, he pretends it never happened, tells her to leave, refuses to do it again, because he doesn’t know whether he’ll stay sane if he does (does those unspeakable things to her again, does things that make him feel like a beast in human skin-).
Something’s changed in her in the days she had spent away from the compound, wandering aimlessly through her own house, which suddenly feels as alien as the compound itself. Some intrinsic part of her has been remodeled to take on a sharper edge, because Sakura pushes him against the wall and pushes herself against him.
Sakura knows no one can fix him - he has to fix himself. She can only be there to watch and help him pick up the smallest pieces. She doesn’t beg him to take her. She reasons with him -it’s for your own good-
He can suppress that useless little thing called lust far longer than most, but in the end, even he’s human and a slave to his emotions, and he breaks, snaps, and proceeds to throw her on the floor and break her instead.
Sasuke always lets her take the initiative, because that way, he won’t have to take the blame because-
Every time he fucks her, it kills him a little inside like it kills her. She calls it therapy. A release for bottled-up pain and anger and frustration. Sasuke calls it hell.
(I’ll take any pain you’ll give me, she’d whispered to him once, as if imparting a much coveted secret, As long as you don’t hurt yourself, and Sasuke had taken one look at her eyes and known that she was mad, mad in the way that only a schoolgirl would be for her first crush, mad for everything he’ll give her, even if it’s just a brutal fuck and a fragile piece of his broken soul)
It is always with varying amounts of disbelief that he looks at her when it’s all over, as if he still can’t believe he’s violated her in every way possible and that she’s still here, despite that. Sakura’s expression is carefully blank.
He rolls over onto the ground beside her (they never do it on the bed, because that would give this sordid arrangement of theirs too much meaning) and the places where his body had aligned with hers feel cold as soon as she gets up.
He hears the quiet thump of Sakura’s footsteps and discerns a strange, halting rhythm between it and the thumping of his own heart - she’s gathering her shredded clothes, clothes he had ripped apart like he had ripped apart everything else, everything that insisted on standing on his path to vengeance, bodies and bonds and all.
Sasuke turns his back on her and stares blankly at the wall as Sakura trudges closer to the door like an indifferent specter. There is a five-foot gap from where he lies on the ground to the door on the other side of the room. Every time she makes that small journey, he’s acutely aware of her presence moving farther and farther away, even if he can’t see her.
Being aware of something - even if it’s only Sakura - is an improvement, he decides, because he hasn’t been aware of anything ever since he’s been back.
Maybe it is therapy, like she claims, because he doesn’t feel the need to curl into himself any more every time she leaves. But maybe it’s not, because nowadays he has to suppress the urge to whisper out a desperate don’t go the moment she places her hand on the doorknob.
The door closes behind her with an audible click, promising she’ll return tomorrow.
Sasuke sighs and closes his eyes, and dreams in vibrant reds and greens and not monochrome. He knows Sakura keeps her promises. After all…
…she always comes to him in the night.
But she never stays.
Worst. SasuSaku. Ever. Actually was supposed to be a long three-parter with lots of pretty annoying metaphor and I started to type up the summary when I really should’ve been working on my sn_exchange fic. This is what came out. Some dark smut for this, please?
OrochimaruxSasuke: yes, I’m a Sasuke-whore
Kabuto had smiled at him, pushed up his glasses, and told him in a friendly enough tone, that even Orochimaru-sama’s leniency had a limit.
Just because he was the next vessel did not mean the old snake would stand for his arrogant bullshit - of course, Kabuto had used more refined language than that, but to Sasuke’s pain-fogged mind, that was the gist of it.
He couldn’t see much as he stumbled into the bathroom, not with one eye swollen shut and purple while the other barely saw through the blood gushing from his forehead and leaking into the sunken, sleep-deprived hollow of his eye socket.
Sasuke turned on the shower as hot as he could, trying to drown out the pain with searing heat.
He really hadn’t thought back on Kabuto’s words up until now - had dismissed them in an instant, because he had been parading around on Orochimaru’s grounds as if he owned the place and the old geezer still hadn’t said a word, had not even expressed a hint of displeasure, even when Sasuke had impudently told him to shut up in front of an entire batch of his precious Sound minions. Surely, Orochimaru would be a fool to harm him in any way - he was the next vessel after all…
But maybe he should’ve heeded Kabuto’s words before he had shot his mouth off and ordered Orochimaru to teach him something new when the Sannin had been enthusiastically extolling upon the virtues of meditation, to connect with your inner darkness or something along those cryptic lines.
He hadn’t caught the displeased set of Orochimaru’s usually amiably sneering mouth or the way narrow, golden eyes had narrowed even further. He had been about to take a step towards the exit, declaring that this session was pointless - a waste of his time - when he felt it: a cold, skeletal hand digging companionably into his shoulder.
He hadn’t even sensed him moving.
Sasuke’s first instinct had been to freeze and then shrug the hand off nonchalantly, and perhaps direct a disdainful look at his frowning mentor as he said, Don’t touch me.
He did none of that, because Orochimaru’s fingers dug deeper into his shoulder by a fraction of an inch, as if the Sannin had read his mind and known he was going to be an impertinent brat again.
Sasuke had stilled, because in that moment, he had been painfully aware, for the first time since he had been in Sound, that Orochimaru could kill him - break his shoulder with a press of his fingers, snap his neck with an effortless swipe of his hand.
“Fight me, boy,” Orochimaru had said in his ear, in a sibilant whisper. The words had been spoken gently enough, but that it was a command was as clear as the dungeon they inhabited was dark.
So Sasuke had fought him, and the battle had been over within seconds. Orochimaru had broken his wrist, shoved his head against the ground and then slammed him up against the wall and told him to play nice, Sasuke-kun. And there had been a mad glee in his voice, a queer satisfaction in his expression at seeing the purples patches blooming on Sasuke’s face.
Before succumbing to darkness, Sasuke remembered seeing snake-like eyes - so, so close - and feeling something wet and cold against his cheek.
Orochimaru must’ve left him for dead, because when he had regained his consciousness, the training field had been empty and his wounds were still there. He had limped across the dense network of tunnels, his way illuminated by torches hanging solemnly on the wall, barely able to keep his eyes open and still reeling from the shock of what had just happened.
Kabuto had mysteriously disappeared.
Now, as scalding water poured down his body in torrents, he could barely find the strength to keep standing. Sasuke braced his arms against the wall in front to steady himself when his vision swayed and the world tipped sideways.
The pain was nothing compared to the anguish that boiled inside him. This was necessary, he told himself, for revenge. Revenge was all that mattered.
♣
Orochimaru was a genius. But he was also vain.
To drive him to the point of ruthlessly bruising his future body was a feat, so perhaps Sasuke shouldn’t have taken for granted the supposed security offered to him as the next host. And he didn’t, not after that humiliating, bone-crushing defeat he had suffered.
He was more careful now, with his choice of words, in a way that only Orochimaru would notice. He was respectful, just enough and no more, because pride inevitably got in the way. He would never descend to the level of meek servitude - Sasuke thought of this as a practice in self-preservation.
He knew Orochimaru enjoyed this - the careful lilt of his voice, the slight pause he took before he asked or answered, the way he actually bothered to reply to Orochimaru’s queries these days-
(Ah, Sasuke-kun. How nice to see you. Did you sleep well?
…Aa, I did.)
-instead of ignoring them as if the great Sannin hadn’t even spoken.
What pleased Orochimaru even more was the way Sasuke stumbled helplessly towards the exit after their training sessions, which were getting increasingly brutal, each one more violent than the last.
Sometimes, Orochimaru activated the seal intentionally, without warning, during their training sessions, just to see him sink down to his knees and shiver at Orochimaru’s feet like a kitten out in the cold.
Orochimaru had always had a certain fondness for lost, hungry strays. He stroked Sasuke’s hair on those days, felt along his face with cold, slimy fingers, almost soothingly, almost as if Sasuke was a precious pet and on those days, as he blinked back the darkness, Sasuke hated the man.
He hated himself even more when said man - madman - bent down to lick his cheek and he did nothing but accept it, because that hand was still there, on his shoulder, so close to his jugular; because Orochimaru still taught him jutsu after jutsu, didn’t he? And that’s all that should matter - more power. Because he needed it, to get his hands on Itachi’s neck and squeeze and squeeze until he was nothing but a corpse, too, like the rest of his family; he needed the power to accomplish his revenge, because without revenge his existence meant nothing.
That was what he told himself when he found himself bruised, delirious and naked somewhere in Orochimaru’s lair - he couldn’t really say where though. His vision was too blurry for that - a confusing swirl of grey and blue and green.
The curse seal throbbed painfully on his neck, a constant reminder of what Orochimaru held over him - complete control.
Sasuke was numb. He felt nothing except for the strange cold sensation that seemed to pervade his body - it really wasn’t much different from the feel of Orochimaru’s touches.
Every place Orochimaru… caressed seemed to become colder, as if his withered fingers had the ability to sap warmth out of everything they came in contact with.
“Such pretty skin you have, Sasuke-kun…”
There was something cold and wet and sloppy against his cheek - a tongue. There were hands roving over his face, blocking his vision, fingers in his hair, playing idly with black strands.
“And such pretty hair…”
Then there were giggles - mad, amused giggles - against his jaw as he felt himself being lifted by the hair and staring straight into crazed amber eyes, and Sasuke suddenly found himself unable to comprehend the depth of this man's madness.
It was at that moment that Sasuke knew that when Orochimaru had wanted his body in exchange for that much-coveted revenge, he had literally wanted it. He should’ve thought through before making a deal with the devil - Orochimaru would train him, give him food and the clothes on his back, and treat him like royalty. Orochimaru would also fuck him.
And this was where the price of revenge just seemed too high.
“Fuck… you…” Sasuke managed to grit out, voice rough from disuse (because he was unusually silent these days - Orochimaru liked him silent unless he was spoken to); and then he screamed when the fingers in his hair tightened, and yanked hard enough to dislodge a few strands from his skull.
“And such ugly words from that pretty mouth…You really haven’t learned, have you, Sasuke-kun?”
Sasuke didn’t answer, just bit his lips against the pain when Orochimaru threw him to the ground, as carelessly as one might throw away used shuriken.
He felt Orochimaru rearranging his limbs with care, as if he was something delicate - a marionette, perhaps - until Sasuke was kneeling on all fours, and staring unseeingly at the ground.
Orochimaru appraised his handiwork and was satisfied. His hand traveled down the curve of Sasuke’s spine, down until his fingers slipped in effortlessly into the cleft of his ass and Sasuke screamed in shock at the intrusion.
The boy bucked, writhed and tried to crawl away and Orochimaru smiled in sincere pleasure as he observed.
Orochimaru liked admiring pretty things. He liked breaking them even more.
♣
Oh god, see? I totally start out with every intention of writing porn, but the characters are just so silly! They're more interested in angsting than having a good time, so it's not my fault at all.
Go ahead! Write porn based on the ficlets above, or with pairings of your own - hopefully, they'll inspire me to actually get working on my darker projects, which have been rotting in my hard drive for quite a while now! Someone please write me some Team Seven sexytimez - I really need it to de-stress
Exhausted,
indira14.