The Bride
He doesn't realize the baby she's carrying is his, when he shoots her in the head at her wedding. He'd been too distracted by the fact that she was marrying a man that wasn't him.
When Sakura wakes up from the coma he puts her in, childless and alone, there's only one thing on her mind. Revenge. Revenge against her ex-boss. Her ex-teacher. Her ex-lover. Revenge against Sasuke. Kill Bill-esque Assassin AU
Disclaimer: M for very descriptive intercourse, graphic depictions of violence, portrayals of major characters as moralless, drug abuse, alcohol, language, adult themes, babies, unwanted groping/harassment (trigger warning), mention of dog fighting w/no descriptive details, and brief mention of human trafficking.
This is more of a dark/violent/heavy romance than it is an outright revenge saga. It's centered around the sasusaku au relationship with some plot lines and scenes loosely taken from Tarantino, rather than being fully framed around the vengeance bloodbath that is Kill Bill. If you are uncomfortable with this premise, or are under 18, please do not proceed.
Cover Image by: Jyacira1 on Twitter. Used with permission. Do not repost.
The work alternates between the present and the past. It is complete and in three parts. It will be published in full, throughout this weekend.
The Bride | VOLUME II
It's been a little over a month since she's woken up. Sakura is in the middle of twisting a knife into one of Sasuke's old informants, trying to milk him for information before he dies.
The scum barely points her in the right direction before he goes limp beneath her hand.
She never liked this dipshit Kabuto. She is certain Sasuke never liked him that much either.
She scowls at this thought. She was trying to hurt Sasuke on her way to finding him, not do him any favors.
Sakura looks around the dimly lit warehouse as she straightens up and cleans her blade against Kabuto's pant leg.
This location had not changed. She finds that sloppy on Sasuke's part, but she remembers this warehouse as being one of the more secure hideouts at the organization's disposal.
It wouldn't hurt to dig through some things, just to ensure Kabuto hadn't planted her with a false lead, but it would be unwise to linger here for too much longer.
Kabuto had been alone. She'd been watching him until his back-up had left for the night. His need to stay late and overachieve had been his downfall.
If he'd gone home with everyone else, she wouldn't have gotten to stab him.
She slides her blade into the holster at her waist. Her long shirt falls over it and her tight leather jacket falls over that.
She's in black leather leggings and pointed motorcycle boots.
After regaining the mobility of her limbs, Sakura's first order of business had been to get out of Suna.
She'd accomplished that with a coat hanger.
A coat hanger she'd used to slip underneath the driver's side window of a nondescript car, breaking into it.
She'd driven the stolen vehicle across the border of Suna, back into the last place she'd known her ex-lover to live.
It's the same metropolitan area that she'd grown up in.
She'd been gleeful to discover one of her prime hiding spots for cash, still preserved. Once she'd started to make real money working for him, she'd chosen a sentimental spot. Leaving the money as insurance, in case she ever needed it.
It was under a bridge near the jeweler she used to hit, before Sasuke recruited her. Lodged behind a loose brick in the underpass, her rolled up and rubber banded stack of hundreds had remained untouched all these years.
The cash had gotten her a small set of practical clothing for her mission and the funds to be a transient, as she made her move, looking for him.
He'd been showing Sakura how to perfect her aim, when she'd looked over her shoulder at him with a heated expression.
Sasuke had faltered mid-sentence as he'd looked down at her, mouth set in a grim line.
There wasn't much time to fuck around right now. They were on a rigid schedule, needing to get back to the city in a precise time frame so she could go off on an assignment.
Sakura pouts at him, turning back to her targets in the field.
She shoots the bullseye in a handful, shoots the headshot on some others, then turns back to him again, eyebrow raised.
He's standing much closer to her than necessary, but he did that often.
He looks down at her again, satisfied.
"Better," he says.
Sakura clicks the safety back into place on the rifle. She unloads the magazine, and then puts the pieces down on the ledge in front of her.
Sure, they executed people for a living. That didn't mean that gun safety wasn't important.
She fully turns around so she's facing him.
Her denim cut-offs are obnoxiously short. He had been able to see part of her ass on one side and she's in a thin sports bra.
Her nipples are hard through the fabric and he stares down at them, one of his hands coming up to grip her skin, right underneath her tits.
Sakura inhales, then looks into his eyes.
"Touch me," she demands.
He raises an eyebrow at her bossiness.
His other hand comes up to rest on her shoulder, while the hand he had at her side slides down.
Sakura's breath catches further as his calloused fingers scrape down the side of her body.
He hovers over the front of her zipper and the button of her denim, before making quick work of undoing them.
He plunges his fingers inside her shorts.
She wasn't wearing any underwear.
Sakura holds on to his upper arms so she doesn't fall over.
His thumb is at her clit and two of his fingers have slid into her wet passage and he pushes into her hard and rough with his hand.
Her eyes roll back and he clenches his teeth at the way she's responding to him. His cock is getting hard.
Almost every time he trained her now, digressed into something like this and he wasn't proud of it.
She needed to focus on what he was showing her, rather than start getting horny for him as he explained it.
He says this to her as he continues to finger fuck her, standing up.
"I know that…" she trails off, moaning. "But you're too—" she gasps as he picks up his pace, "—you're too touchy when you show me things!" she huffs.
Sasuke's other hand comes down from her shoulder and slides up and underneath her bra, pinching at one of her perky tits in response.
Sakura's mouth drops open, her grip on his arms tightening. She's starting to sway.
He leans down, crushing his mouth to hers, still working his fingers in her and twisting at her chest. She yells hotly into his mouth as she orgasms.
He pulls his hand out of her shorts.
She's shaking, her feet losing balance, so he wraps his arm behind her lower back so she doesn't fall.
He yanks her forward into himself. His other hand lets go of the bare skin of her chest and rests on the curve of her ass instead.
She tosses an arm around his neck and just leans on him, seemingly satisfied.
Sasuke's eyes are on the training grounds behind her back. He is proud of her progress. But he knows their sexual relationship, on top of their relationship as teacher and student, on top of their relationship as leader and subordinate... complicated things.
His arm tightens around her small body. He thinks he wants to fuck now, but Sakura is yawning.
"What's wrong?" she mumbles, into his chest.
She pulls back from him to look up at his face. He looks wound up, the tight lipped clench of his jaw giving him away.
She gives him a knowing smirk and he growls at her. He yanks her shorts down all the way and she yelps in surprise as he flips her around, so that her back is against his chest again.
He holds her hands behind her back with one of his, then pulls himself out with his other hand and guides his dick into her wetness.
Pushing into her, he says, "Fuck," breathlessly.
Sakura is gasping in front of him and then he's pounding at her. His hold on her is tight. Her arms are still restrained behind her and between their bodies.
He wraps his free hand around her throat and continues to fuck her standing up, until he comes in her.
Sasuke is with his brother. His eyes are downcast as they sit across from each other discussing missives.
Itachi is silent. Sasuke looks up. His brother is staring at him.
"What?" he questions.
Itachi raises his hands up in a questioning motion, then folds them together neatly in front of him.
"You have not been listening for the past ten minutes," he says.
Sasuke frowns and looks down at the sheets in front of him.
"Yes. I have," he responds, slowly.
He's not in the mood for Itachi to piss him off right now. Sakura was fucking shit up in her ridiculous, vigilanty killing spree and it was drawing attention to their operations.
Not that she gave a fuck.
His brother lifts an eyebrow at him, then begins to stack up his papers, pointedly. He slides the orderly pile to the corner of his desk.
"What are you going to do about your problem?" Itachi asks, tightly.
Sasuke drums his fingers against the surface of his brother's desk, grinding his teeth together.
He doesn't know what he's going to do. He's not about to take her out. Again.
He'd tried to do that once and it had blown up in his face, spectacularly.
Sakura doesn't know about Sarada yet either, he's certain.
"She deserves to get her revenge," he says, finally.
His brother looks up at him sharply here. He doesn't speak for a minute, assessing his younger brother's face, expression stern.
"This isn't about just you anymore," Itachi says. "You need to think about your daughter."
Sasuke begins stacking up his papers too now. He needs to shred most of his. His sheets have too much sensitive information regarding clients and client ops. It was sometimes easier for them to plan out hits and assemble their teams, if they met with their respective documents.
"I am thinking about her," Sasuke says.
Itachi clicks his tongue at him, standing up.
"No. You are not," he states.
Sasuke gives him a dirty look, standing up too.
"Fuck off," he says.
Itachi rolls his eyes at him, cracking his knuckles, then walks towards his closed office door.
They're at Itachi's house. As they emerge and walk upstairs, up to his living room, they find Sarada napping on the plush, sectional couch.
She'd been watching a cartoon movie as her father and her uncle disappeared after dinner, to work.
Itachi watches his brother as he dumps his stack of papers on the coffee table, then pulls a blanket off the back of the sofa. Sasuke drops himself lightly on the edge of the couch, pulling the blanket up Sarada's small body.
Itachi's hands are in his pockets as he stands there, continuing to look at Sasuke. He remembers doing things like this for him, when he was little.
Sasuke remembers too.
"She can sleep over, if you want to go home and rest. I can babysit," Itachi offers.
Sasuke looks down at his sleeping daughter's face for a moment longer, his eyebrows furrowed.
He lifts his gaze to Itachi's, his eyes dead. He shrugs in response.
Sasuke had sent Sakura out on what had seemingly been a routine hit. The client had offered a hefty sum for the execution to be carried out as a sniping.
The mission was overseas, rather than domestic. When he'd given her an overview of the target she'd be taking out, everything had seemed okay.
The team she was meeting upon her arrival were all familiar to her and she'd worked with most of them before.
He knows the mission was a success before she returns home, because the client had deposited the rather hefty sum for services, via wire transfer, soon after it was accomplished.
Sakura seems off when she walks in through his door. He assumes it's just jet lag at first, but she's too quiet as she takes off her shoes and removes her jacket.
She leaves her small suitcase by the front entrance and disappears into the guest bathroom off the main hallway.
She hadn't exactly moved in with him outright, but her tiny studio on the other side of town had been unoccupied for some time now.
Most of her possessions were here, in his home or a couple hours away, at the wilderness hideout. The one they retreated to for training and practice.
He had been in the middle of reviewing a couple different client manifests, trying to discern which jobs had the highest payout, with the least amount of risk.
He was good at matching the right people to assignments that best matched their specialties.
That's why he was the boss of his faction.
His brother operated on a different plane than him, with an entirely different team; though they'd borrow people from each other as needed, if required.
Sakura has not shut the door, so he leaves his work on the coffee table and approaches the bathroom. He can hear water running from the sink.
His stealth is unmatched, but he'd trained her to detect that sort of thing regardless. She doesn't notice him leaning in the doorway however, and she jumps a foot in the air when she does.
She's distracted.
His eyebrows draw together at this and he crosses his arms, his hands gripping at the fabric of his long-sleeved black shirt. It looks like a basic tee, but his standards were high. His clothes weren't flashy, but they were expensive and high quality.
Sakura looks away from him, down to her hands. She's scrubbing them raw. The water is so hot that he can see the steam rising from it.
"How was the job?" he asks.
She shrugs her shoulders, still boiling her hands.
"Fine," she states.
Her fingers are looking rather red now and he straightens out his expression to something neutral.
"Any complications?"
Sakura finally turns off the faucet. She grips the edges of the sink, looking at herself in the mirror above it, then looking at him in the reflection.
"No. It was clean," she says.
There is clearly something she's not saying here and he wants to know what it is. Yet he knows better than to ask her straight up.
She'll shut down at him, if she feels like she's being interrogated.
She'd been arrested and questioned too many times before they'd met, for her to be cooperative with that sort of thing.
Turning to look at him directly, she asks, "Can I have some privacy, please?"
He eyes her with veiled suspicion for a moment longer, before turning his back and getting back to work.
Sasuke rubs at his eyes. It's getting late. He looks at the watch face on the inside of his wrist and notes the time.
Sakura had vanished into some other part of his house, making herself scarce after they'd spoken briefly in the guest bathroom.
He secures some of the manifests in his office, then makes his way towards his bedroom. Sakura is not in here, but the door to his bedroom bathroom is shut and the light is on underneath the crack.
She comes out, not paying attention and freezes when she spots him. Her eyes wide.
She tries to cover her reaction up and walks to his dresser, pulling a drawer open.
Her back is to him and her gaze is downward. She doesn't notice him approach because of this. He walks up to her and drops his head towards her neck, inhaling. His hand is slipping under her shirt at her spine, but she shrieks in surprise, whipping around and gripping his wrist in a defensive stance.
"Don't touch me!" she hisses out.
He narrows his eyes at her.
"What happened?" he demands. "Tell me now."
Sakura's lip starts trembling and she lets go of his wrist. She looks down at her feet, her hair covering her expressive eyes.
Her eyes were her weakness and he'd told her that before. She wasn't good at hiding what she was feeling in them and that was a fault in this line of work.
She doesn't speak. She just stands in front of him, silent.
"Sakura…" he says, warningly. "You're annoying me."
He's not in the mood for her games.
"I thought you vetted the members of your team thoroughly," she starts, weakly.
He swallows. Where was she going with this?
"I do."
Sakura clutches the bottom of her shirt nervously and takes a deep breath.
"Spit it out," he says, frustrated.
She looks up at him. She's in pain. He can see it in her eyes. She looks fine physically, but it's something else.
"Your getaway driver assaulted me!" she yells, finally.
She's crying now.
What?
A look of disgust crosses his features as he stands before her.
"He tried to— he tried to—"
She shakes her head. She can't say it.
Sasuke wants to smack some sense into her so she explains properly, but she's so flighty that he can't do much but wait until she's calm enough to speak.
He can guess where this is going.
"…Was he successful?" he questions, darkly.
She looks at him outraged, her face wet and her eyes puffy.
"Was he successful?! Was he fucking successful in… RAPING ME?" she screams, shoving him away from her.
He's mad now too. His hands are in fists at his sides and it's taking a fair amount of self control not to touch her right now.
"Well I can't fucking do anything about it, if you don't fucking tell me what happened," he seethes.
She crosses her arms angrily and sniffs some snot back into her nose.
"No. He did not penetrate my vagina. Yes. He did pin me down and touch me over my clothes and I didn't WANT HIM TO!" she yells.
Sasuke storms up to her and punches the mirror behind her, over his dresser.
Sakura shrieks in surprise as the glass shatters and spills over the wood of his furniture.
Both her hands cover her mouth and she stares at his bloody hand as he pulls it back. He eyes it grimly. His knuckles were always getting fucked up.
The driver was named Sasori and he had borrowed him from Itachi for this mission.
Sakura steps closer to him and pushes him backwards, so they can steer clear of the broken shards of mirror that are now littered everywhere.
"Control yourself," she mutters. "I'm the one that's fucked up right now, what the hell are you fucking doing?" she questions.
He wants to know a lot more details in the definitive, but he thinks he can piece the series of events together pretty accurately.
Sasori had likely overpowered her and pinned her down in the back seat of the vehicle, after clearing her from the scene.
Sakura was trained, but Sasori was no civilian either. He'd been working much longer than her in this realm.
Sasuke turns his back on her and exits the room.
"Where are you going!?" she yells at him.
"I need to make a phone call," he bites out.
Sakura frowns, upset.
Was he expecting her to clean up this fucking mess he'd made? She's not doing it!
She's not sure how this had somehow turned into being about him and his anger, when she's the one who was hurting and trying to process what had happened to her.
Asshole.
She sleeps on the couch that night.
They avoid each other after that. Sakura isn't home when he wakes up. He'd left the broken glass in place and had fallen asleep angrily, after phoning his brother.
Sakura hadn't come to bed and he hadn't gone to look for her to make her, opting to leave her to her own devices.
Sasuke was a jealous and possessive person by nature. Sasori was confirmed dead at this point, but Sasuke was still angry.
That kind of behavior on a high caliber hit job was unacceptable within a cell. It was against protocol.
That part only pissed him off a little bit.
That fucker had almost tainted Sakura.
He glowers, staring at the ceiling. He hasn't gotten out of bed yet.
He had tainted her, even though he hadn't gone all the way. She likely needed counseling for this shit. He wouldn't be able to send her on any aggressive missions for the foreseeable future…
…and he probably couldn't be intimate with her for quite some time too. Not until she had recovered.
He wants to kill something
He sits up. He'd read over a manifest last night that required a rather gruesome method of execution to complete the job.
He was going to give it to Suigetsu and pair him with one of Itachi's Akatsuki, but instead, he's going to take this one himself.
Sasuke is gone when Sakura gets back. She'd been on a walk to clear her head and had stopped at a coffee shop to get a refreshment and something to eat.
She'd gone back and forth on getting him something as well, ultimately deciding against it. She didn't want to carry it, while walking back to his house.
She snoops around the large property and notes that he's cleaned up all the broken glass from the mirror he'd rage broken, but some of his notable things were gone.
He'd left for a mission.
She frowns. He usually told her where he was going if he was going to do one himself.
She spots a note for her in his kitchen.
Be back in a couple days. Call Kakashi to talk before I get back.
She groans.
Kakashi was their organization's de facto trauma counselor. De facto because he was not a licensed clinician. The man ran a dog fighting ring behind a legitimate business as a bulldog sanctuary.
It was kind of despicable, but most people they knew and were acquainted with, were kind of despicable.
Sakura sighs as she enters his place.
The smell of wet dog and kibble is strong as she walks in.
There's a receptionist of sorts named Iruka, who greets her cheerfully.
"Ah, Sakura-san! Long time no see! What can I do for you today?"
She and Sasuke were not open about their relationship. Regardless, anyone with half a brain knew something was going on there. She was clearly favored by him and this earned her some level of respect throughout the immediate cell and expanded squad.
No one wanted to be on Sasuke's bad side.
She muses that Sasori, stationed overseas and disconnected from domestic operations, likely did not get the memo.
At least she could sleep somewhat peacefully at night, knowing he wasn't breathing anymore.
He'd been terminated, swiftly.
Sakura smiles at Iruka, weakly. She usually ran errands for Sasuke when she came here, delivering messages to Kakashi.
They were comms that were too sensitive to send any other way, and were more secure being relayed verbally.
"Is Kakashi-sensei free?" she asks.
Kakashi had trained her a fair amount in conceptual basics.
After she and Sasuke had fought excessively during simple run-throughs of common cell formations, he'd grown frustrated at her antics and sent her away to Kakashi, to learn from him instead.
He himself had learned from Kakashi anyway.
"You're fucking impossible. I'm going to rip your throat out. Get the fuck out of here and don't come back until you know what the fuck you're doing."
Fucking jerk.
Sakura pouts as she thinks about it.
It was obvious to her now, that their excessive arguing had more to do with sexual tension than with anything of actual substance. That had been a couple years ago though, before they'd become intimate.
Sakura is sitting next to Kakashi, on the ground outside. Her arms are around her bent knees and her eyes are on one of his pet dogs.
This one is his favorite and it is well taken care of.
Kakashi sat on a large number of acres at his 'dog sanctuary.'
It was ideal for his purposes, but also doubled up as a secondary training ground, if Sasuke or Itachi ever wanted to book it for some last minute refinement.
It was much closer to the city than the secluded property they held in the wilderness.
It was not always available though. The gunshots scared the dogs.
Kakashi is scratching behind his pup's ears absently for a while, then lifts his head up and looks at Sakura.
"Got something you want to get off your chest?" he questions.
Sakura shrugs, looking away and out towards the open field in front of her.
After another minute of silence, she vaguely explains what had occurred on her mission.
"Ah. I see," Kakashi says, thoughtfully. "That would explain the cause for Sasori's termination."
Sakura nods. Word spread pretty quickly amongst their ranks, when someone in the group expired.
"Well. How do you feel?" he asks.
His dog has left his side and is now trotting over to her, sniffing at her face. Sakura pets it behind the neck, and it sits next to her, panting with its tongue sticking out.
She smiles softly at the animal. He looked mean as hell, but he was really a sweet canine, deep down. It reminded her of some of the men she was surrounded by.
She shrugs her shoulders again.
"I feel gross," she says.
Kakashi stretches his legs out in front of him. They are sitting on an asphalt step, before the grassy acreage of his property begins, out back.
"That's to be expected. But," he starts. "I want to remind you, that what happened to you was not your fault. You can't control the actions of others."
Sakura frowns, removing her hand from Pakkun and picking at one of her nails.
"I should have beat his ass," she mumbles.
Kakashi smiles gently here, though he is looking straight ahead, out into the trees.
"You did what you could to get out as unharmed as possible. Now, you focus on moving forward from your experience."
She messes with the ends of her hair as Pakkun gets up, to run out into the grass. Sakura looks towards her sensei.
"How?"
He makes to stand up and groans as his joints crack.
"Remember your meditation training? We can start there," he advises.
Sakura stands up too. Yes, she remembers. It had secretly been one of her favorite things that she'd learned.
Sakura's asleep, her slumber light, when Sasuke gets back from his hit job in the middle of the night.
She's on his side of the bed, her dusty pink hair splayed all over his pillow as she sleeps.
She liked to sleep on his side of the bed when he was away because it smelled like him.
Sasuke eyes her with something close to fondness as he unclasps his watch.
He places it, his phone and wallet on a nightstand near the bed, then strips so he can shower.
The identification in his wallet is all fake and counterfeit. He'd needed to pass through the airport with someone else's identity for this job.
It had been bloody and gruesome and exactly what he'd been looking for. The client wanted the target quite literally torn, limb from limb.
Sasuke grimaces. He had wanted to do something bloody, but blood had sprayed across his face a few too many times in quick succession as he'd taken the mark out.
He probably should have used a sharper weapon, rather than the blunt-edged sword he'd opted for.
Sakura is half awake when he gets out of his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.
His hair is damp and dripping. He's not sure what's okay with her right now, so he digs through his drawers and pulls his boxer briefs on stealthily, without removing his towel.
He rips the towel off of himself, rubs it at his hair sloppily, then drops it to the ground.
Sakura sits up to look at him. She's sleepy. She's in a silky black negligee. Her cleavage looks nice as it peeks out from the lace detailing on the edges.
He just stands there, half-dressed and unsure if he's allowed to get in his bed or not.
She raises an eyebrow at him. What the fuck was he doing?
Oh.
She realizes his issue. She smiles softly.
How uncharacteristically chivalrous. She rolls her eyes.
She's fine.
His mission had run long. He's been gone for two weeks and she had missed him. She'd talked to Kakashi a handful of times, had meditated even more, and she felt okay.
She knows what happened wasn't her fault. Knows the guy is already dead. Is thankful it hadn't been worse than it was, and she wants to try and move on.
If she finds herself in a dark place after this, her support system is there to fall back on. She had a tough skin though. You needed it, to carry out some of the things they often did.
She eyes him a second longer, then pats on the mattress next to her.
Sasuke approaches it cautiously, then pulls back the blanket on the unoccupied side and gets in.
He stretches his limbs and then he turns on his side, to face her.
Sakura lies back down and faces him too.
"Hi," she says.
He doesn't respond.
"How was it?" she asks.
He grimaces.
"Messy."
Sakura smirks at him, then pushes herself forward so she can press her front, up against his.
He looks at her wearily.
She seemed okay, but he's still not sure.
Her hands come up between them and her palms rest flat on his chest.
She's looking at him expectantly. Her green eyes large and doelike.
He looks back at her, eyes now hooded. He's not going to initiate anything.
Sakura frowns. She prefers when he takes charge, but he's being so… awkwardly considerate, that she wants to punch him.
She pushes forward and kisses him. He responds lazily, his eyes shutting and his lips moving slowly against hers.
Sakura moans softly into his mouth and one of his hands comes up and rests cautiously on her side, at the dip of her waist.
He's warm.
He grips her there gently, but she wants more. She growls at him, then pushes him roughly so that he's on his back.
She gets on top of him. Her hands are still at his chest and her body is stretched out across his.
His eyebrows are raised as they look at each other. Her face is close. The tips of their noses almost touch.
She pecks at his lips a couple times, then moves herself against him sensuously.
He's done with the restraint at this point. His hands grip at her harshly; one clutching her ass and the other at the back of her hair. He smashes her mouth against his.
Sakura lets out a sound of approval at the attention.
Her right hand slides up his bare chest and she rests her palm on the side of his neck, as he caresses her ass over the silk material of her nighty.
Her tongue is in his mouth and she's breathing hard.
His hand slips underneath the silk, gripping her bare, pantiless skin. His fingers then dip downwards, near the slit of her pussy.
She's wet and she's ready for him. He pulls his lips from hers. Her eyes open in confusion.
He's giving her a questioning glance, his eyes still hooded with lust.
Sakura can feel how hard he is, against her abdomen.
She pulls at his boxers in response. He lifts his hips so he can get them off. Then, both of his hands clutch at her ass, so he can position her over and onto his dick.
Sakura moans as he fills her. She's still splayed on top of him, her legs spread a little, so he can penetrate her comfortably like this.
His hands slide up her back, underneath her garment and then he pulls at it. He wants it off, so he can feel her bare tits against his chest.
Sakura extends her arms so he can remove it, then she presses into him and he's fucking up into her as he holds her against himself tightly.
She sighs, content. Her hands go into his still damp hair.
They hold eye contact briefly, then she shuts hers and pants against his lips as he fucks her intimately.
It feels good. She takes solace in his embrace.
His hands were dirty, but when he was holding her like this, like she was something fragile that could break, she felt loved by him.
"Where is he?" Sakura demands.
She is slamming a heavy metal door repeatedly, on her next victim's head.
He's subdued on his back, on the ground.
This is Kakuzu and he is one of Itachi's men.
"Where's Sasuke?" she asks again, pulling the door forwards with a slam.
Kakuzu's body convulses, his skull trapped between the frame of the door and the door itself as Sakura annihilates him.
Sakura had relied on the element of surprise as well as a tasteless, odorless poison, to weaken him. He was a large and violent man, and Sakura had known going after him was a risk.
But as the staff accountant, he likely knew better than most, where she could find Sasuke.
He lifts an arm, wrapping it around her neck, but his grip is weak.
He'll be lucky to escape this without minimal brain damage.
Sakura is kneeling over him, ready to pull the door forward for one final slam.
She stops, when he speaks.
He gives her a location. Coordinates. Latitude and longitude.
She smirks. Men like Kakuzu only cared about their own skin in the end. It was themselves and their money.
No one else.
She gets up, spitting next to his head once she's standing over him.
She takes a substantial amount of cash from his vault before she leaves, so that she can continue to fund her mission.
Sakura knows she is owed her retribution. If she can rob Sasuke on her way to killing him, she'll do it.
Her plan was to kill Sasuke on sight when she sees him.
She's finally found where he lives. Found him.
The first place she'd tried to track him down at, had been his old residence. Where she had lived with him.
It had been occupied by someone else.
The home she's located from the coordinates she'd been given, this house, is bigger. It's nicer and more modern and had an ample sized yard.
It's located somewhere more private and obscure, and had been harder to find on a map.
There's no discernible address, which had made it more difficult to trace.
Kakuzu giving her the exact coordinates however, had helped.
She knows Sasuke has many enemies and that list had likely increased in the time she'd been away, so the heightened security makes sense.
Yet... something is not right. Sakura feels her heartbeat quickening as she sneaks around his inhabitance.
No one is home right now, but he doesn't seem to be the sole occupant of the property. She doesn't think he lives here alone.
There is blatant evidence that someone else occupies the space with him.
It's not another woman. That's not what it looks like.
It's a… it's a child.
Sakura feels a sob from deep within her chest forming.
A child.
Her baby.
Sasuke knows someone is inside when he unlocks the front door.
There is a give in the latch that feels off when he turns the key inside of it, and through his years of experience, he can tell that the lock has been picked within the last couple hours.
He's alone. Sarada had gone on an outing with her uncle, giving Sasuke some time to handle a couple loose ends that were not acceptable to be done in the company of an innocent five year old.
He bends over before he opens the door all the way and swiftly reaches down, into his boot, to pull out a short blade.
He slides it up, into his sleeve and then he pushes his door open and walks inside like he hasn't caught on to someone already being there.
The house is dark, the day overcast. The light from the windows is not illuminating the space the way it usually does. He locks the door behind him, walks past the entryway and switches on the light.
He freezes for half a second. His eyes have caught that unmistakable tone of pink at the edge of the room.
Sakura is seated at his dining table. It's a fair distance from where he's at, but he can see her all the same. She'd been sitting there. Back ramrod straight. In the eerie daytime darkness.
Sasuke leans his back against the frame of the entryway, choosing not to get much closer at this time.
They eye each other wearily.
Sakura takes him in.
He's aged in five years, but not in a bad way.
It's more near his eyes than anything. His hair is longer too.
"Finally found me?" he says.
She looks different.
Her face is more narrow. Her eyes harder. Her hair choppier.
His gaze drops to the fabric her fingers are picking at, on the surface of the table.
It's a small blanket from Sarada's bed.
He swallows.
He wasn't prepared for this inevitable discovery.
He hadn't really expected to see her so soon. Her rampage had slowed down recently and he'd almost thought she'd given up.
"You shot me," she says softly, standing up. "You shot me—" she repeats, voice rising.
Her fist bashes into the table and she's yelling now. Emotional.
"YOU SHOT ME AND YOU STOLE MY BABY!" she screams.
Sakura is too predictable. He knows she's going to reach for the gun behind her waistband and point it at him, so he does the same.
They're standing across his house, weapons drawn, expressions heated.
She's breathing hard and she's removed the safety.
He knows what it's like to try and take someone out in a poorly thought through bout of rage.
He'd done it to her.
"You want our kid to lose the only parent she's acquainted with?" he asks.
Sakura falters.
She's almost in shock. She had come here to take her revenge out on him. To take him out and to leave and put this entire life behind her.
She had not anticipated coming in here to discover that her baby had survived. That she's presumably well taken care of and being raised by her half-psycho father.
She lowers her gun, but not all the way.
"Where is she?" Sakura questions, suspiciously.
From the appearance of her room, Sakura has deduced that they'd had a girl.
Sasuke raises his hands in the air, gun loose in his grip as he walks further into his house.
Sakura's eyes are hawklike as they track his movements.
She'd been out for five years, but her instincts are still sharp.
He's proud of this, in a sadistic way. He'd trained her well.
He removes the magazine, then leaves the gun on the console table by the entryway, not foolish enough to turn his back on her. He deposits his keys there as well.
He needs to remember to stash the weapon before Sarada gets home. He never forgets, but Sakura being here could be enough to distract him into carelessness.
Sakura's armed hand has dropped to her side now.
"She's with Itachi," he says. He lifts his arm and eyes the watch face on the inside of his wrist, "she'll be back in an hour."
Sakura's eyes dart around nervously, before they focus back on him.
He tilts his head back, eyeing her from the bridge of his nose. He's still maintaining his distance, a fair length of the house away from her.
"Do you want to meet her?" he questions.
Sakura lifts a hand up to her face and covers the bottom half, choking back a whimper.
She turns her face to the side. She doesn't want him to see her this vulnerable.
Her emotions are going haywire.
She feels like she's living through a real life soap opera and that there is no one behind the scenes to come save her, ready to jump out and yell, "cut!"
The take just keeps going. Never ending.
She hears his footsteps. He's drawing nearer to her and she tenses, but he walks past her and disappears down a hallway.
Sakura takes a moment to collect herself, sniffling and wiping at her face in anger.
She tucks her weapon away, takes a number of deep breaths in and out, then attempts to follow after him.
He's in his kitchen. Sullenly staring at a tea kettle boil water. It is on a countertop stove, in the middle of a large, marble island, that's in the middle of a high-ceilinged, spacious room.
He has one hand in the pocket of his dark, expensive, well-tailored jeans. The other hand grips the edge of the counter loosely.
Sakura looks around, taking the room in.
The wall on one end of the kitchen is made up of floor to ceiling glass doors and windows. It overlooks the green and spacious yard associated with the property.
Sakura purses her lips at the opulence.
She hadn't grown up this way.
For now, she stomps down an unwanted feeling of being grateful.
Grateful that her daughter is not living like she had.
She wants to be mad right now. Not secretly fucking thankful towards the man who upturned the last five years of her life.
She is notably not counting the four years prior to that. When they'd met and when she'd trained under him and worked with him and lived with him... and loved him.
She doesn't regret those years. She'd been happy and she'd had a stable existence for the first time in her life.
That had also been because of him.
She cringes. She fucking hates him.
The kettle is whistling obnoxiously and she snaps back into the now.
He's frowning as he turns off the burner and pours the water into a French press that's full of ground coffee.
Bougie piece of shit.
His eyes snap up to her face once he's done and he's put the kettle back on the stove.
"What's it gonna be?"
She narrows her eyes at the choice in phrasing. It's too particular to not be intentional.
It's the same question he had asked her all those years ago. When he had recruited her.
"Do you want to meet Sarada, or not?" he continues.
Sakura's expression crumbles.
She'd been so consumed with how fucked up this all was, that she hadn't bothered to ask her daughter's name.
Her eyes land on the table in the corner of the room, near the floor to ceiling window. She walks towards it, dropping herself heavily into a chair.
She makes sure she's facing him. She doesn't trust him enough to present him with her back.
Shakily, she runs a hand through her pink hair.
It's short and choppy now. He's not sure if he likes it, but it doesn't really matter what he likes.
Sakura gulps and looks back at him. His attention is on pouring his coffee into a mug.
There is only one mug. He's not offering her any.
She wouldn't accept it anyways. He knows her too well to have even bothered.
He drinks some of it, looking at her over the rim of the porcelain.
Sakura looks out the window. Her eyes land on some of Sarada's playthings strewn across the yard.
She starts to nod. Nod her head, yes.
"Yes. I want to meet her," she whispers.
Sasuke's fist is at his mouth, his eyes on Sakura, unblinking, when she sees Sarada for the first time. He's sitting some distance away, letting her have this moment. He's too selfish to leave the room though.
He wants to see.
There are a handful of emotions crossing Sakura's face as she sees what their kid looks like.
She glances up at him briefly, then looks back down to Sarada.
He knows what's unspoken with that look.
She looks like you.
"Hello!" Sarada says, cheerfully.
Sakura does not respond for a moment. She takes a shaky breath.
"H-hi," she says.
"Are you one of Papa's friends?" Sarada asks, curiously.
Sakura is looking her up and down, taking in her features and her mannerisms.
Sarada squints at her suspiciously, looking her up and down now too.
Their daughter turns to look at Sasuke, her expression accusatory.
"Is this my mom?" she asks, bluntly.
Sasuke's eyes widen a fraction, but he doesn't respond.
Sarada turns back to Sakura, her head tilted to the side.
Abruptly, she grabs at her hand.
"Where have you been!?" she questions, excitedly.
She's yanking at her mother now, pulling her across the house and towards her bedroom.
She's chattering a mile a minute, her grip on Sakura's dainty hand tight. Sakura looks at Sasuke, her expression dumbfounded as their kid leads her away to hang out with her.
His fist is still over his mouth, so the slight upturn of his lip isn't visible. He shrugs at her as they walk past him.
This is the person we made together, he thinks.
"Why am I in your bedroom?" Sakura questions Sasuke, angrily.
His back is to her as he pulls off his shirt. He's tired. This 'family' reunion has drained him more than he'd expected it to.
Sarada had shown Sakura all of her things, giving her an exuberant tour of her room. Using this as an opportunity to get a better look at the large space, Sakura had eyed it with a mix of concern and relief. Relief, because their daughter certainly was left to want for nothing.
Concern, because Sasuke was spoiling the shit out of her though. Sakura could feel a vein throbbing in her forehead.
Idiot. Don't indulge her this much!
Then Sarada had sat her down and braided her hair into pigtails. Sakura had asked her where she'd learned it from.
"Papa and Uncle Itachi taught me!"
Itachi she could understand. His hair had always been long. Sasuke knowing how to braid, she'd raised an eyebrow at.
Sakura tugs at one of the pigtails thoughtfully, before her ire returns and she starts berating the father of her child.
"I'm not sleeping with you. You still fucking disgust me. You shot me!"
He turns to glare at her briefly. He wasn't trying to fuck right now. He's not even sure his dick worked anymore.
He hadn't slept with anyone since her.
"You said you wanted to talk in private. So. Speak."
Sakura gives him a disbelieving look as he walks into his en-suite bathroom and switches on the light. She trails after him.
He's at his sink, fucking brushing his teeth.
What the fuck.
She's pretty sure he's not realizing the overly familiar domesticity of this interaction. She wants to pull her hair out. For someone so intelligent and calculating, his random bouts of cluelessness were astounding.
He spits some toothpaste out of his mouth, then says, "Nice hair."
She puts her hands on her hips.
"Why would you bring me in here to talk?" she demands.
She's not entirely sure why she's so bothered by this, but she presses at it anyways before getting to her point.
He speaks around the brush that's back in his mouth.
"She's sneaky," he eyes Sakura as he says this. "She got that from you. She'll find a way to listen if she can," he shrugs.
Sakura's lips go into a straight line, the fullness of her natural pout is lost in the action.
She doesn't know her daughter very well yet, and she feels jealousy and a fractional amount of anger pooling into her stomach at Sasuke's advantage here.
Fucking asshole.
"Does she know what you do?" Sakura asks, sharply.
He rinses out his mouth and stores the toothbrush in his medicine cabinet, before turning to her. He's leaning against the counter of his sink, his arms crossed.
"Does she know what we do, you mean?" he questions.
"Don't group me in with the likes of you," Sakura sneers.
Sasuke looks mad now. He pushes off the sink and walks up to her, leaning down, into her personal space.
"Didn't you go on some misguided, vengeful, killing spree to get to me?" he asks.
Sakura glares up at him. Her eyes drop to his lips for half a second, then snap back up. He notices, but doesn't react. He does not back away. Neither does she.
"You shot me. I was in a coma for five fucking years because of you."
His expression darkens. She doesn't need to keep reminding him that he'd shot his pregnant ex-lover in cold blood. Out of spite.
"I came here to kill you," she says.
He'd assumed as much, with the messages she'd been delivering throughout her murder rampage.
She'd buried five of he and Itachi's best, in her gory vengeance crusade.
He doesn't say anything, he just breathes the same air as her, their faces close. He can feel the heat from her body radiating towards him, against his bare skin.
"I was going to use the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique you taught me," she states.
His eyes are hooded now as he listens to her.
"It would be fitting," he says, simply.
He waits. Now would be the time to do it, if she wanted. He's exposed and vulnerable.
Sakura looks upset. She breaks their eye contact and looks off to the side. Sasuke's hand comes up and touches one of her braided pigtails.
"She's gotten better at it," he says.
Sakura's face scrunches up and her lip starts to tremble. She'd missed so much because of him.
"You're such a—" she starts. Her eyes are watery, but her tears aren't falling yet. "Fucking—fucking jerk!" she cries.
She punches at his chest with the flat of her hand. His eyes drop to her appendage. Her palm is flat over his heart.
This is the first movement in the touch of death.
Is she going to do it? Is he going to die right now?
His eyes lift again to hers.
She's sobbing openly now. Her fingers clench at his skin and her other hand comes up to join it. She fists them both, punching at his chest and crying.
The moment has passed. She's not going to do it right now.
He lets her be annoying for a minute, as she hits at him and yells out a handful of, "I fucking hate yous," before he grabs at her wrists to still her.
"Stop it," he says. "You're throwing a fucking tantrum," he mutters.
Sakura is almost pouting at him. He's not impressed, because it was shit like this that got her pregnant to begin with.
Conversations would turn into arguments.
Arguments would turn into heated exchanges.
Heated exchanges would become physical.
And then he'd end up with his dick inside of her.
He waits until she quiets down, then says, "There's a guest room you can sleep in, if you want."
She pulls herself out of his grasp and moves back a step, to create distance.
"Fine. Show me," she demands.
Sasuke takes a moment to collect himself. He feels dizzy and shakes his head to get rid of the vertigo.
"And to answer your question, no. Sarada doesn't know. But she's not stupid. She hears things," he says.
Sakura frowns. She's annoyed. She'd essentially lived with him before and knew the kind of shit Sasuke talked about at home. She doesn't want her daughter to pick up on snippets of that lifestyle.
...That's why she'd tried to leave him in the first place.
When his back is turned to lead her out of his room, she swipes his discarded shirt. She folds it quickly and tucks it into the back of her waistband, next to her gat.
She needed something to sleep in.
Sakura is leaning back on her palms, a scowl on her face.
Sasuke is scowling too, her foot in his hands as he wraps her injured ankle.
The sole of it is at his chest, as he starts with gauze. He is standing at the end of the bed.
His gaze is on his work and so is hers.
She's in a loose tank top and her underwear, in the middle of his bed.
They speak at the same time
"It wasn't my fault," she says
"It was your fault," he says.
Sakura bristles in outrage.
"Stay still," he mutters.
She'd twisted her ankle during a standard, group training exercise and had become utterly useless as a result.
He'd had to take her off of her upcoming assignment and reassign it to Karin.
"Hand me the tape," he says.
Sakura grabs the roll from where it sits, next to her and extends it out to him.
Their eyes meet while he's taking it from her.
The sound of the tape peeling back from the roll fills the brief silence. Sasuke's focus shifts to wrapping it firmly around the gauze layer.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, softly.
She nods her head, trying not to sniffle.
He was acting like he was mad, but his touch was surprisingly gentle.
He finishes wrapping her up, then places her foot down carefully, on the mattress.
"You need to elevate it," he says.
Sakura groans, then falls back heavily. She shimmies her way up the mattress so she can rest her head on her pillows.
Sasuke bends over the bed and reaches for one of the pillows, from his side. He lifts her leg and slides the cushion under it.
"Thanks,'' she mumbles.
Sakura's hands are resting on her stomach.
Sasuke has disappeared into the bathroom.
She's lying there, on her back, feeling helpless and sort of bad about herself.
She hears the sound of running water from the sink. He had already brushed his teeth, so he was either washing his hands or flossing.
Her head turns towards the bathroom door, when she notices movement from the corner of her eye.
He's standing there, staring at her, while he runs the dental floss between his teeth with both hands.
"What?" he questions, voice garbled.
She feels like crying, but she doesn't want to look like a pussy, so she just mumbles a half-assed apology for getting injured. She looks away from him, at the ceiling.
He grunts at her, then disappears again.
Sasuke turns the lights off, before he treks to bed. Sakura wishes she could turn away from him, but she's forced to lie on her back due to her sprained ankle.
The mattress dips with his weight and Sakura sighs.
After a pause, he turns to her and throws an arm over her, resting his head on her chest.
She inhales audibly, surprised.
She wraps her arms around him too, pressing her cheek into the top of his head.
"Why did you do this to me?" Sakura asks.
It's the next day and he and Sakura are locked in his office. Sakura notes that it's more spacious and more extravagant than the office he had at his last house, where she used to live with him.
"You left me."
Sakura narrows her eyes and she leans her head forwards. Her hands are flat on the glass surface of his desk as she stands across from him.
He is seated at the chair behind it. His posture is tense, though that's nothing out of the ordinary.
"That's it? That's your fucking reason?" she questions.
He shrugs at her.
"You shot me in the head at my fucking wedding, killed my husband-to-be, killed my friends, and almost killed our fucking child because… because I left you!?"
Sakura is wearing the same clothes that she broke into his house in, yesterday.
Her slim legs are hugged by tight black jeans. Her knees peek through tears in the distressed denim, and for him, this is the equivalent to an ample amount of exposed cleavage.
He still had that weird thing for her knees.
"Are you fucking insane?" she continues.
She's too caught up in yelling at him, to have noticed his distracted and inappropriate ogling of her legs. He'd been eyeing them through the clear, glass top of the desk. He redirects his focus to her face.
She shakes her head at him.
"Don't answer that," she adds on.
He was fucking crazy. It was common knowledge in their circles that Uchiha Sasuke was an unstable motherfucker.
"What were you thinking?" he questions, back at her.
Sakura pulls back to stand up straight. Her left hand goes to her hip, and she juts her hip out as she stares him down.
Sasuke continues to berate her.
"You just thought you could get up and disappear one morning? Go live out some sham of a life with some unsuspecting moron and raise my kid with him, without me ever finding out?" he asks her.
He stands up now, rounding on her. His desk chair rolls back, bashing into the wall behind it.
Sakura doesn't respond.
He grabs at her free hand. She tries to pull away from him, but his grip is firm.
"Your hands are seeped in blood," he says, lifting the appendage up between them and shaking it in front of her face. "You're not a normal person. You never will be. You're not as smart as I thought you were, if you had the impression that anything you were doing made any fucking sense."
Sakura's expression sours exponentially.
"And whose fucking fault is that!?" she screams, shoving at his chest with her left hand.
He looks down at her, his expression stony, but he remains silent.
"You recruited me!" she yells. "You came on to me. You did this to me!"
He brings his face down, close to hers.
"I didn't come on to you. You started that. You wanted it just as bad as I did. Don't put that on me," he says, voice low.
She's fuming.
Fuck him. He was so fucking arrogant.
She lifts her hand off his chest and slaps him. His head turns to the side at the force of her smack.
She was rather heavy handed, the hit feeling more like a punch than a bitch slap. He breathes in deeply as his head is turned away, then he faces her again to speak.
The hand she'd slapped him with is drawn back, raised between their bodies. She was unsure if he was going to try and hit her back, so she's kept herself on her guard in case she needs to block him.
He's still holding her other hand forcefully, but he drops it now, shoving her arm back towards her own personal space.
"Just so you know," he starts, "Those people you were calling your 'friends,' were fucking scum."
Sakura steps backwards. They're too close to one another. Things tended to escalate quickly if they started getting too physical with each other, and she absolutely did not want anything like that to unfold with him right now.
"I taught you better than that. Did you even bother to have any of them looked into?" he continues.
She glares at him.
"You were going to have my kid hanging around people like that?"
She scoffs.
"Better them than you," she responds.
He gives her a look of distaste.
"Your desire to live out some fake, happy, peaceful life, clouded your judgement."
He turns his back on her, walking up to one of the bookshelves that line the room. He pulls out a slim file, lodged between the spines of a couple fat, leatherbound books.
As he turns back around, she notices that the folder is worn. Like it's been looked through frequently.
He shoves it into her hands, standing before her as she sifts through it.
She flips the pages. Her 'friends' had been suspects in a sex trafficking ring it seemed. One where they groomed children.
Her husband too.
The sweet, kind, loving man she had almost married… had been a suspected pedophile.
She wants to vomit.
What the fuck?
"You made this up," she says, looking up at him, angrily.
He rolls his eyes at her.
He's not going to tell her that he'd dug this up after he'd had everyone slaughtered. She won't like that sequence of events.
The executions had been carried out because of his rage.
The sick, fucked up shit, the group she'd attached herself to had been involved in… that was uncovered afterwards.
Yes, he regrets what he'd done to Sakura.
No, he does not regret the rest. Sarada would have been surrounded by a group of predators more scummy than her parents.
He doesn't give a fuck that he shat all over Sakura's stupid fucking wedding.
Sakura's legs are on his shoulders. She's split wide and her pussy is in his face as he eats at her. He's holding her up easily. Her back is against the wall and her hands are haphazardly scrabbling for purchase at the ceiling, from being held so high up while he's standing.
Her moans are loud, her face flushed as he plunges his tongue into her wet passage. He curls the tip of it as he pulls it out of her insides, then sucks at her clit. He repeats the action more than once and her moans only get louder.
His hands grip tightly at her ribs, right under her exposed and perky tits. Her nipples are hard and he wants to pinch and bite at them, but he can't do too much at once, while she's held open on his shoulders like this.
He buries his face farther into her weeping cunt and she cries out. She's grinding forward at him now, one of her hands reaching down to grip and pull at his hair. The other is flat on the ceiling for balance.
When he uses his teeth on her, she loses it. He tightens his hands on her body as she comes. He's worried he'll drop her, she's shaking so hard.
He sucks at her clit some more as she continues to come and she yells at him to stop, pulling at his hair in an attempt to unattach him from her body.
He's annoyed. He wants to taste her as she spills.
He backs his head away, keeping her on his shoulders for now.
"Come on. What the fuck?" he complains.
Sakura's chest is rising up and down fast. She looks down at him, irritated.
"I came already! Stop it!"
One of his hands slides down to her thigh and he pinches at her skin there. The other stays gripped around her ribs.
He looks up, into her eyes. His dick is rock hard and he wants to fuck her mouth now, but he's not sure if she'll let him.
He sighs, then steps back from the wall.
Sakura gasps, surprised. Her hands wrap around his head and he lowers her gently so she can get her feet back on the ground.
Her legs are shaky and she's unstable, so she holds onto him as she regains her balance.
She feels his hard cock at her stomach. He's taller than her and stronger than her and it was most obvious when they were naked.
It was pretty clear when they were training too, but it felt different when they were being sexual.
She was superior at throwing punches though. She rarely fucked up her hands when she did and she dealt a fair amount of damage for someone so small and frail looking.
He'd been worried about that when he'd recruited her, but she'd ended up surpassing his expectations in that area.
"I want to fuck your face," he says, looking down at her.
She's wide eyed as she looks back at him, but her expression is heated.
"Okay," she says.
She gets on her knees in front of him and looks up at him, raising an eyebrow.
"What are you waiting for?" she questions, smirking.
She liked to throw his own phrases back at him. Secretly, he liked it too.
It meant she paid attention to him and he was fond of that.
It's not something he'd ever admit to her though.
His eyes shut halfway as he grips himself and strokes a couple times. He directs his dick at her and she parts her full and soft lips for him. He groans loudly as he slides into her hot mouth.
She sucked him off so well. To him, it was the best.
He pumps in and out of her a couple times, gently. Then, he grips the hair at both sides of her head and fucks her mouth aggressively.
She's choking and gurgling and spit is overflowing from her lips, but he knows she likes it when he loses himself while fucking her throat.
She'd told him that before.
Her green eyes are on him from below, taking in his impassioned expression. He looks pained, but pain and pleasure were a blurred line for him.
He's enjoying himself.
She swallows, his cock going deep into the back of her throat. He comes silently from that, holding her face tightly in place so she doesn't move until he's finished.
His come is dripping out of her mouth, down her chin and he likes how it looks. Defiling her.
She was kind of a cum slut anyways. He's not entirely sure he had much to do with it. That observation, he doesn't like, but he doesn't ask her too much about the things in her past that he doesn't want to know.
She pushes at him to back off and then she's heaving for breath and coughing, once he's slipped out of her.
Sakura wipes at her lips with her arm and sits back on her haunches.
She's exhausted.
She's in awe that he's still standing from the exertion spent in the last 45 minutes, but his stamina was high in general, so it's not that baffling.
Sakura makes to stand up, but she's wobbly again. He reaches out to steady her.
His expression is slack. She pushes away from him and walks towards their bed, dropping her body facedown onto it with a huff.
He looks at her stretched out body for a minute. At her sun-kissed skin, and her tousled hair and the backs of her knees.
Sakura turns her head to peer back at him. She lifts herself up slightly, propping a cheek onto her palm.
"Why are you still standing over there?" she questions. "Come to bed!"
He blinks slowly at her, then walks forward, standing over her prone form.
Sakura turns her head to follow his movement, then tilts her head to the side, confused by his inaction.
The tips of his fingers drop to the back of her knees as he remains standing, caressing the crease behind her kneecaps.
Sakura screeches, and kicks her feet.
"Stop! That tickles," she yells out, with a laugh.
He grunts at her, then dives forward, jostling her on the mattress. Her face and her palm separate and she scoffs in mock outrage, flipping around so that she can press herself into him.
Sasuke tosses an arm around her shoulders and they lie there, content.
Happy to be together.
Sasuke is sitting at his dining table with his daughter, having dinner. He is moving food around on his plate without eating much of it. He thinks to himself that this sort of action is more akin to something Sarada should be doing, than himself; a grown man.
"Is Mama going to live with us?" Sarada questions.
Sasuke does not look up when he responds. His dark gaze is fixated on the red flesh of an overcooked tomato, as its juice bleeds into everything surrounding it.
"No."
Sarada drops her fork with a clatter. She is looking at him expectantly, but he still doesn't look back.
"Why?" she whines.
Sasuke remains silent.
"Did she not—did she not like me?" Sarada questions, uncertainly.
He looks up at this, frowning at her. He shakes his head briefly. He is still gripping his fork.
"That's not it," he says.
She looks at him, confused now. She is wondering what it could possibly be, if not that.
Sasuke places his utensil across his plate, before he responds. He's not going to fool himself that he's hungry enough to eat anymore.
"She likes you plenty," he says. "She doesn't like me," he informs her.
Sarada looks down at her food. She abruptly grabs a purple fingerling potato off of her plate with her hands, and stuffs it into her mouth.
Sasuke is not the type to scold her for something like this, instead lifting an eyebrow at the sudden change in table manners.
After swallowing her bite with an audible gulp, she asks, "Why?"
Sasuke takes a minute to respond.
"I did something she's mad about," he says.
Sarada looks mad at him now. She pushes her plate away from herself. She grips the edge of the table and leans forwards.
"So say sorry!" she demands.
He eyes her with a tinge of sadness. Oftentimes, interacting with her was like dealing with Sakura all over again. She looked a lot like him, sure. But she behaved a lot like her mother.
"Sometimes, saying sorry isn't enough," he states.
He doesn't want to talk anymore, so he looks away from her.
Sarada usually can tell when he's dismissing her.
She pouts at him, annoyed.
Pushing back her chair, she gets up and leaves. He hears her stomping off throughout the house, and then the slam of her bedroom door echoes in her wake.
Sasuke pinches at the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly.
The tomato on his plate has deflated further, the ooze from it tainting the entire dish.
TBC...
If you like The Bride, check out other fics by illCat (me)
Blow: Drug Dealer AU. Multi-chapter WIP. Pt. IV pending editing
Marionette: College AU with a twist. Multi-chapter WIP. Ch. 17 pending editing
Courtesan: Sex for Money AU. One-shot.
Tarnished: Good Girl/Bad Boy HS AU. Two-shot.