#random fic drops

[lilmikomiko]

OKAY

thank you for the christmas gift BUT WHO THE HELL SENT ME SUCH A FILTHY FILTHY FIC DROP

[lilmikomiko]

in the quiet between missives, sakura turned her attention to other things: the children's ward, the reconstruction effort, the quiet burning of a far-flung love. his latest words, she kept in a pocket against her heart; when the paper crinkled, she smiled to remember him. in the evenings, she mouthed sentences to no one in particular, corrected grammatical errors she was sure he had made in the rush to send his sentiments across oceans and fields. his heart was worth the silence.

in turn, she composes her answers out of his careful words; her pulse fluttering at every stroke of her pen against the parchment. there is joy in reading his thoughts, which was once locked in his barred chest, now bared open for her to peruse and keep.  thus, when dawn arrives, she sends her letter with sentences that could be mistaken for symphonies. she forms them like a soft lullaby, a gentle song for him to listen over and over again: i am here waiting. her hymns (vows) will ring all over the distances that came in between them - may it be the seas, the skies, or even the silences - hoping that he will always hear her. a voice that will guide her lost vanguard on his way home.  

[lilmikomiko]

a half-step later and they were back where they began, with sakura's feet planted eleven inches squarely behind his. "you needn't wait on me," she murmured, worrying the band of skin on her ring finger left bare by recent unkind circumstance. "i know," sasuke said. "it doesn't fix anything," sakura continued, looking away from him. "i know," he said. the distance between them was a familiar width, small and slight. the silence between them was a gulf he could not breach. (1/2)

without thinking, his hand swung back, only to touch empty space.  no one to hold, he suddenly remembered.  sakura closed her coat against the autumn chill and her solemn eyes stayed fixed on the road before them. “sakura…i…” but what could he say? how could he explain a half-life’s worth of mistakes in the space of only moments before an undue end?  how could he tell her so cleanly that he regretted leaving her —them—behind? (2/2)

sasuke always had this gnawing fear of being alone, of returning to an empty home, the silence inside of its walls only broken with the screams of his mind.

he conquered those fears: he lived with it for decades, on his path to perdition. he breathed it in his sleep on his travels, on his road to redemption. all done to ensure that his wife and child, or anyone else, would never experience his tragedies  

and yet, when his fingers didn’t catch the swells of her wrist, and his eyes couldn’t meet her green gaze, gleaming even with the tiniest of light from a waning moon - he knew.

nothing would be enough; there were no amount of touches (a soft poke) and promises (till next time) he could use to build a bridge to cross this chasm he created.

“just…”but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try 

“stay.”

his throat tightened. he can’t be afraid now.

“sasuke-kun,”

his suffix, his endearment, trembled,.

“when i asked you,”

his outstretched hand curled into a fist.“did you stay?”

the truth was hard to admit.

sasuke prepares himself to hear sakura say the unimaginable.

i’m sorry.@blanket-fictions and @peonydee : *makes a shot*

[lilmikomiko]

@peonydee

For her birthday that year, Sakura served breakfast in bed. Four pieces of toast formed the base of her masterpiece, lined the hollow beneath his diaphragm and down the dip of his belly. With her surgeon’s hands, she arranged the poached eggs into big white teardrops, one over the bread and another over his left pectoral. A slice of tomato and a ring of onion graced his other breast, the cool moisture from the tomato causing his nipple to pucker in irritation. The chunks of bacon she saved for last, cross-hashed beneath the bed of toast, teasingly close to where his legs meet his hips, the grease pooling in places she’d be hard pressed to clean. Over all this, she ribboned warm hollandaise sauce liberally.

“I’ve always been curious, anata,” she told him, “whether your immortal master had ever passed on his more flamboyant skills of the tongue.”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” he retorted. “I’m willing to demonstrate once you’re done with breakfast.”

“You mean our breakfast, Sasuke-kun. Show me: take that egg into your mouth without breaking the yolk.”

i am not dignifying a reply to this filthy submission that defiles my favorite meal of the day

[lilmikomiko]

Sakura glared at her husband--no amount of lowkey shrinking could hide his six-feet soon-to-be dead meat. She couldn't even complain to Ino--"my ice cube husband went down on me last night and now I wanna kill him." What woman would complain about that? The type married to men who abandon their breakfasts to seduce their hapless wives without even gargling to wash out the bits of half mastic area pancake and sticky maple syrup off their faces. UTIs literally suck.

dear @peonydeethis betrayal deeply incapacitated my. why why why did you do this to me? we were against YEAST infections. WHY. I CAN TAKE HITS FROM OTHERS BUT NOT FROM YOU.i LOVED YOU ATE. YOU WERE MY SISTER.please expect future retribution. 

[lilmikomiko]

Eggs were supposed to be good for the hair; the idea of having it anywhere near her pussy rather off-putting, but hey, what's a little bit more stickiness. And sugar, all over her neck and tits, for him to lick off. Now, milk. Sasuke would have to stop by for milk on his way home, borrow from the Hokage's, provide it himself, she didn't care. Between him and her, they should be able mix the fluffiest pancake around.

*TOES CURL AT HOW ABSOLUTELY FILTHY THIS IS*

[lilmikomiko]

he unwrapped his present with a studied patience, though his hands shook. a button here, a zipper there, and finally sakura was down to her unspeakably silken underthings. sasuke was agog. across her breasts and at her hips were finely wrought ink arrows that seemed to point to some mythical promised land, and at the juncture between her thighs, were a series of dots that seemed to suggest something naughty. (1/2)

“connect the dots,” sakura said softly. “just use your tongue.”  blushing, he complied. she was sweet with desire, and by the time he had quite had his fill, sakura was whimpering beneath him, her pink tongue caught between her straight, white teeth.  "say it, sasuke-kun,“ she commanded.  he hesitated, but swallowed past the lump in his throat.  "fill me up,” he read aloud, blushing. (2/2)

her finger follows the lines, the same paths his mouth had taken, to the well of her navel, till it brushes the angles of his jaw, to the dampness of his lip.

“do it, anata” her index swipes that stray dew from the corner of his mouth. “and be filthy as you want.”.